Hey weirdos, it's Ash here, ready to share a little secret.
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I have been listening to the Martha's Vineyard Beach and Book Club, which actually Elena recommended to me.
She did not listen to it, but she said, girl, this title sounds so you.
And let me tell you, it did. I've been listening to it while I walk, and I am absolutely loving it.
I love all the different narrators. I love Audible.
There's more to imagine when you listen.
Sign up for a free 30-day Audible trial, and your first audiobook is free.
Visit audible.com slash morbid. On November 13th, 2022, four University of Idaho students were murdered.
Today, finally, the true story. Based on over 300 interviews, in their own words, family members talk about their heartbreak and grief.
Students and townspeople describe that terrifying night.
Police detail the dramatic investigation and arrest of Brian Koberger.
You've never read a true crime like James Patterson and Vicki Ward's The Idaho Four.
The true story, it's finally here. Hey weirdos, I'm Alayna.
And I'm Ash. And this is Morbid. 🎵 what yeah it's a listener tale baby brought to you by you for you from you all a fucking bout you hell yeah a fucking bout is a word a fucking bout it's all a fucking bout you i love listener tales episodes they make me happy inside you guys make me happy inside and this is all about you like we said everybody in the club feeling happy There you go.
I don't know. It's a listener tale. Here I am.
It's a listener tale. Here I am. Here I am.
As your kids would say. There you go. What is it?
Here I am. Here I am. How? And they say do-do-do-do.
But it's how do you do? But they say how do-do-do.
Me? Just a lot. Yeah. Why don't you start with this crazy one?
Okay, well, this one says... I know my calculus.
Oh, I don't. It says you plus me equals us.
Were you saying that to me or to the listeners?
I was saying it because I'm sure some of you remember Together, the parody boy band group, and that was their hit single.
Nope. Ooh, youth. Okay. I know a lot of you out there heard that and you sang it with me.
Were they like from a TV show? Yeah. I think it was MTV.
They made a parody boy band called Together.
But it was like to get her kind of thing.
Oh, that's funny. And their hit single was I Know My Calculus.
It says you plus me equals us. She just did the dance, guys.
Wow, that was beautiful. I saw someone mention it on TikTok recently and they were like, why does no one like herald them as the greatest group ever?
Because they had great songs. Did they have multiple?
It was a parody, but they had a show. Shit.
It was great. They had multiple. They had a whole album.
I had their album. It was great. I mean, as far as fake boy bands go, I'm a Boys in Motion purist.
What is Boys in Motion? I know what that is.
We are the Boys in Motion. Yes, okay, I know.
We give you all the emotion from Not So Raven.
Yep, I know that now. Yeah, you've got to listen to it together.
I've got to introduce you. The hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff.
Tell me what you're trying to hide. I can't feel.
I don't know if I'm allowed to do that, but I did.
And they're a fake band. You did it. All right.
Anyway, sorry that we just like infiltrated your listener tale.
I'm not going to say your name because I don't know if I can yet.
But it says, what's up, weirdos? First, I would love to say how much I love your podcast.
Thank you. I love you. I've been. Oh, me too.
I've been a longtime listener and actually just recently started to re-listen to them from the first episode.
Thank you. Morbid is my go-to podcast for my daily drive, and I absolutely love how you guys interact with each other.
It reminds me so much of me and my best friend.
That's weird because I don't even like Alina.
Yeah, I really don't like Ash. Fuck you.
I'm going to toxically abuse her later. She does all the time, guys.
On the podcast. Yep, she does it. Anywho, we're kidding.
Anywho, I guess I should preface this with weird shit happens to me all the time.
I love that for you. Yeah, me too. It has gotten to the point where my friends will literally just shrug off a story and say, well, that's just Monica.
I'd expect nothing less. I love that for you, Monica.
I don't invite weird shit to happen, but to be fair, it usually ends in an entertaining story, so I don't usually mind.
Good for you. Hell yeah. Yeah. Um, I served in the Marines and received a service-related injury that fucked me up bad.
Oh, damn. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, too, and thanks for your service.
Yeah. The barn I rode at was considered the black sheep of the fox hunting club in our area, as we were not all rich and prissy.
It also might have been the fact that we accidentally set a table on fire, but I digress. i'd also like to point out we've never actually caught a fox it is called fox hunting but it's more like a super long trail ride with a bunch of hounds just running through the woods i that's okay i can take that good to know thanks the club was hosting a black tie event to help raise funds and the name and the theme was zombies that sounds fucking awesome a black tie event with the theme zombies i love that a lot uh I love that so much.
I want to go to that. I do too. Invite us.
I was super excited since it was the first themed event and was up to the challenge of combining a black tie event with fucking zombies.
Yes, Monica. We're on the same wavelength here.
So much. So the day of the event, I started getting ready.
I zombified my face. I got my hair in a beautiful updo and then took my outfit outside and started to apply the dirt and the fake blood.
And this is where my story gets interesting.
So, I'm applying fake blood to my hands and pressing it into my top.
During this process, I hear a woman across the street yelling and banging on my neighbor's front door.
My self-preservation was strong back then, so I made note of it, but kept doing my thing because seriously, zombies.
Oh, no. Oh, no. I tried the doors well, but he didn't answer, so I went to his front windows.
The blinds were drawn, and they were closed and locked.
I ended up going through his backyard and found that his back door was unlocked.
The minute I stepped into the house, I saw him.
His house was super small, but also what I would consider open concept.
The kitchen, living room, and eating area were all pretty much within view of each other.
He was face down in his living room area, and it looked like he'd been there for a while.
Oh, no. I approached him and felt for a pulse but didn't find any sign of life.
He was cold and he felt stiff. His mom pounded on the front door again, so I got up and went to open the door for her.
Before I let her in, I told her her son was dead.
She was screaming and ran to him. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 and started talking to the 911 operator.
The conversation went something like this.
911, what's your emergency? Yeah, I'm at the house across the street from blank, whatever.
Okay, and what is the problem? I found my neighbor dead.
Are you sure? Am I sure? He's dead? Yeah, definitely.
I'm sure. Can you perform CPR? One second.
Meanwhile, the mom is still sobbing rightfully so, and I go to try to flip him over even though he is dead dead.
Mind you, Scott was a big dude, and with my bad back, I couldn't manage to flip him.
I picked up my phone and told the operator that I couldn't.
It was at this point that my brain kind of flipped back on, and as I'm looking down at Scott, talking to the 911 operator, I realize I had left a trail of fake blood all over his house.
Oh my god. But wait, it gets worse. I left fake blood handprints on dear old dead Scott when I tried to flip him over.
Oh my god. The cops eventually showed up with an ambulance and there I am standing over a dead body.
He's covered in fake blood and I'm covered in fake blood with a face full of makeup to make me look like a fucking zombie.
I'd be like, I know what this looks like, but I swear I did not do this.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I ended up showering since I was literally now covered in dead body, and I had to reapply my zombie makeup.
I messaged my other horse riding friend who I was meeting at the event that I was running late because I'd found my neighbor dead.
Her response? Yeah, that sounds like you.
See you soon. What the fuck is my life? From Monica.
Wow. The end is my favorite. Yeah, that sounds like you.
I love that they were just like, yep. Wow.
So funny. Wow. That's wild, Monica. You are wild.
And R.I.P. Scott. R.I.P. Scott. I feel so bad for his mom.
I know. Did you ever find out what happened?
I know. I'm curious. Did he collapse or was he murdered?
It sounds like he just collapsed. Yeah, it kind of sounds that way.
But geez, Louise, that would have been scary just because I'd be like, oh God, are they just going to think that I've done this?
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The town of Agde in France is famous for sun, sand, sea and sex.
But lately, life on the coast has taken a strange turn.
The town's mayor, a respected pillar of the community, has been arrested for corruption.
His wife claims he's been bewitched by a beautiful clairvoyant.
Then there's the mysterious phone calls that local people have been getting.
I am the Archangel Michael. The whole town has been thrown into chaos.
As the mayor is unable to carry out his duties, I would like to address you all.
Legal proceedings have been initiated. Join me, Anna Richardson, and journalist Leo Schick for The Mystic and the Mayor as we investigate a story of power, corruption and magic.
Binge all episodes of The Mystic and the Mare exclusively and ad-free right now on Wondery+.
Start your free trial in Apple Podcasts, Spotify or the Wondery app.
All right, the next one is entitled, When My Best Friend's Boyfriend Got Away With Her Murder?
Oh. Uh-oh. Hello, fellow weirdos. I've changed the names of everyone in this tale for the sake of privacy.
You can call me Luna. I love that name. Me too.
Born and raised in Connecticut, so we're state neighbors.
Ha-ha. I was told about your podcast several months ago by one of my besties.
Her ex of 15 years texted her about this true crime podcast that she should listen to because it reminded him how she and her friends used to banter.
Holy shit for being out of the loop for so long. right.
I've never listened to a podcast before, but once I checked you ladies out, I was hooked.
I started with episode one and I'm almost caught up.
I'm a Capricorn, two years older than Elena, and my baby sister is a crazy little Gemini like Ash, who I love dearly.
I love you too. A crazy little Gemini. That's me.
I could go on about all the things we have in common and how we should be besties, but this will end up being a listener novel.
LOL. Hashtag love you guys. Hashtag love you back.
Hashtag love you so much back. I have attached a PDF because obviously.
It's a put up for Elena. Excuse me. And if it makes it on the podcast, I will shit myself, but in a good way.
You just pooped. Thank you. Thank you both so much for existing and creating this amazing podcast that is now always in my ear.
Lots of love. Here comes my real name, so please don't say it.
Beep. I like your name, though. That's a pretty name, though.
I'm just saying. All right, let's open this up.
Okay, here it goes. I'm going to try to keep this as concise as possible, but there are details that I feel are needed to get the whole picture.
This is the story of a murder, question mark, of my best friend, May.
And that's in quotations. That's not the real name.
Okie dokie. Little backstory. May and I became friends when we were four years old.
She lived next door to my grandparents' house and our dads had grown up together as well.
We were inseparable. My parents divorced and my mom remarried and bought a house, which happened to be a hop, skip, jump through May's backyard to get to.
And we were over the moon. I went to Catholic school.
She wrote that. I didn't. And she went to public.
But we would. That's tough to like going to Catholic school and your best friend goes to public.
Yeah, that is hard. And we would get to see, but we would get to see each other almost every day.
My dad called her his fourth daughter and her parents were my second set.
Her brother and the bro I never had. Okay, you get the point.
We grew up and remained close through our lives, though our lives took us in different directions.
I had my son in 2006 and obviously my world changed.
May was not settled down with anyone and was living her single life.
May had a lot of friends. She was always the life of the party, fun, kind, outgoing, and she'd give you the shirt off her back.
We had a close group of friends of which we called May the glue.
We four of us became and have remained close through her.
Oh, I love that. I do too. I was working at a nursing home in 2008 and helped May get a job in the kitchen.
Soon after, I was promoted to manager of said kitchen.
Awkward, yes, but May was awesome and totally understood the professional boundaries we had to maintain in the work environment.
Mm-hmm. In July of 2009, I was set to take my first vacation from my new job as manager.
I had plans on the Wednesday of that week to hang with May at Tom's house by the pool with her and planned to bring my son.
On the Tuesday of that week, I went fishing with my dad on his boat and stupidly got a bad sunburn.
I canceled with May on Wednesday morning, apologizing over and over.
I remember her saying, come on, you can sit under the umbrella, please.
But I didn't go. I didn't know at the time that it would be the last conversation I would have with May.
I'm so sorry that that was the last one.
At about 11 p.m. that night, my cell phone rang.
Side note, I used to be a heavy sleeper.
Thunderstorm last night that shook the house?
No way. Type sleeper. I woke to the call.
It was Ron. That's quotes. May's older brother crying, telling me May was dead.
I couldn't believe I couldn't believe I couldn't breathe.
Sorry. I didn't know what to do. This couldn't be real.
I called my sister who lives a block away from me, woke her up and told her she came and picked me up and we raced to the hospital.
When we got there, Ron was there along with some other friends.
We were all just sitting outside the hospital hoping to find out that this was some sort of horrible mistake.
It wasn't. I watched as Mae's mom walked out with her head down after having to identify her 25-year-old daughter's body.
Our world was shattered. All we knew at that point was that Mae was found on the side of the road naked, dead, and the last person to see her alive was Tom, since she was in his vehicle up until her untimely death.
Her cause of death was blunt force trauma.
What the fuck happened? Oh. I tried to turn detective, tried to ask the right questions, but he wasn't budging.
He said that they had gotten in an argument and she jumped out of his moving vehicle and that was that.
I wasn't buying it. I sent him away. She jumped out of your moving vehicle naked?
Well, she says, why was she naked? Why did you pick up her shoes and place them next to her naked body?
Why didn't you call 911? We found out that my sister's ex-boyfriend was driving along the road and came upon Mae's body that night.
Oh my god. He called 911. Tom had called the house he and Mae had left instead of police or emergency services.
Huh. According to Tom, Mae was said to have jumped from the vehicle when they were traveling 45 miles an hour on a road that was curving to the left.
Not impossible, but sus. Another side note, I did not like to drive and was a nervous passenger.
Or excuse me, May, sorry. She once got a job as a forklift operator and would not do it because she said it was like trying to drive in a crowded parking lot where everyone was speeding.
So that doesn't make sense that she'd dive out of a moving vehicle.
No, of course not. The cops started an investigation, and I use that word lightly, by interviewing friends, family, and coworkers.
I gave them everything I could think of, including her comment to me regarding being scared of him that had shook me enough to drive to his apartment one morning when she didn't show up for work.
I thought then that I was going to find her dead, but instead it was her phone that was dead and she had missed her alarm.
Of everyone that the cops interviewed, there were two co-workers that told police Mae mentioned to them that she would jump from a vehicle.
They closed the case with a ruling of accidental deaths.
Total fucking devastation. Oh my God. I was guilt-ridden, thinking that if I hadn't blown May off that day, she'd still be here.
I've forgiven myself, but I can't help thinking, what if, to this day?
Also, if she did jump, I know deep down there had to be something fucking terrifying going on in that vehicle.
My crew agrees. We're very lucky that the four of us are still close.
We do our best to get together on May's birthday, anniversary, and any other reason we can think of throughout the year.
May's mom tried for a long time to get more information or have things looked at again, but did not get anywhere.
Tom's fate is left to karma at this point.
He moved away a couple of years later and has not been seen around these parts since.
I hope the burden of the truth of what happened that night haunts him forever.
Tom, if you're listening, then I know you know this is about you, and you can get fucked.
Well, that's my tale. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you're anything like the scum of the earth that some way or another took our best friend away from us when she had so much life left to live.
I'm so sorry for all you and your friends and Mae's family that pretty much know what happened, but at the same time have no idea.
And that's the thing. You know that regardless, something awful was happening in that car for her to jump out of the car at 45 miles an hour.
Naked. And she's naked. Like, come on. That doesn't make any sense.
And it's interesting that this listener said that they were coming from somebody else's house.
Yeah. So why was she naked? Exactly. It doesn't make any sense at all.
And I can't believe that cops aren't looking at that and being like, we need an answer for that.
And that he then placed her shoes next to her and never called 911.
Yeah. Yeah. Like that's a cover up. It doesn't make sense.
Who's he connected with? It did not make sense.
I'm so sorry. And I really hope someday that the truth comes out for all of you and for me.
Yeah, for real. Oh, that's awful. I'm sorry, Luna.
Terrible. All right, the next one is Listener Tale, How a Librarian Acrobat Was Saved by an Unlikely Hero.
Ooh, interesting. I love that. It says, Listener Tale, This incident took place some years ago, more than I would like to admit, when I was in graduate school at a university located in the deep south where I was studying to be a librarian.
This was before I dropped out to attend the National Canadian Circus School.
Yes, there are circus schools across the world.
Amazing. And become an acrobat instead of an academic.
Wow. Bucket lists are for pussies. Live your life now.
I love that. That's a great way to live.
Great motto. Okay, sorry. Back to the story.
At the time of this event, I was living in a former plantation big house that was built somewhere between the birth of Christ and the Civil War.
Wow. That's old. Wow. After the soldiers of Confederate States of America were handed their collective asses and slaves were emancipated... Whoop!
The plantation economy tanked and this house, like many of the homes at the Southern Aristocracy, I can never say that.
Aristocracy. Thank you. Aristocracy was abandoned for many years.
As time marched on, the town grew up and the old plantations and old farmhouses and cotton fields were eventually covered with condos, cheap student housing and fast food businesses and bars that only carded you if you were under three feet high and wearing a Cookie Monster t-shirt.
Yeah. Over the years, the old house saw new life as a brothel, a TB, sanitarium, a dentist office, and then a halfway house for former patients of the state mental hospital located mere blocks away.
At the time of the story, the BH, Big House, had been carved up into four apartments, two up, two down.
As soon as you said that, I was like, um, I had those windows.
That also was my thought. I was like, I remember those.
Indeed. Anyways, because of the wavy glass, the views from said windows were distorted, like the image in a not-so-fun funhouse mirror.
One had to literally close one's eye and squint to bring anything outside into focus.
In other words, you couldn't see jack shit.
Like I said, most of the windows were original.
However, the ones in my bedroom, which was the former dining room, as well as the one in the back door in the kitchen were brand new.
This will be pertinent later in the story.
As it was, my only company was a psychotic cat named Ophelia.
I love that. And a special needs hamster named Gimpy.
Oh, a special needs hamster. That's adorable.
And I love the name Ophelia. Ophelia spent most of the day hiding on the top shelf of my closet.
At night, she would venture forth and prowl through the dark, quiet rims of the apartment, hissing and arching her back at things only she could see.
While this behavior freaked the holy shit out of my infrequent visitors, it didn't particularly bother me.
You have to understand that I was studying to be a librarian.
My world was one of logic and reason, and everything in it was organized, categorized, and alphabetized and cross-referenced on the butt.
Out the butt. Out the butt. I was like, on the butt.
Out the butt. I merely accepted that her brain was tuned to a frequency that no one else could register.
Other manifestations of Ophelia's fragile mental state included her predilection for peeing on the burners of the stove and playing with cockroaches that lived under my refrigerator.
Eek. Ugh. When she tired of battling the copper-colored critters across the kitchen floor like hockey pucks.
She would literally eat them alive. I don't know which was worse.
Ugh. uh why you do this to me hearing the crunches of roaches dying in the paws of my psycho cat are being hit with the smell of burning piss when i turned on the stove in the morning oh terrible the odor is perhaps best described yup as a mix of ammonia ooda skunk ooda skunk and old bong water that's actually exactly what cat piece smells like basically the bitch was bat shit crazy If my tale thus far has led you to believe that mine is a ghost story, I apologize.
I do have a spoopy story, but that is a tale, another tale for another time.
Now is the time. Now is the time. It's always the time.
Just give us two tales in one. However, the nature of the story I am here to tell left me longing for the company of a ghost or golem, goblin or wizard of Oz, flying monkey that would send unwanted visitors running and screaming from my door.
One night as I lay in bed reading a torrid romance novel, I am a certified bibliophile.
Not a snob. Ophelia descended from her perch in the closet and began her nocturnal patrol of the paranormal.
She stopped beside my bed and stared at a large bank of windows in my bedroom, transfixed by the partially parted drapes that were gently swaying in the sultry summer breeze.
You're a really good writer. Yeah. No, I did not have my windows open.
Fresh air is for dead people. But the house was as old as your great grandmother's great aunt Fanny.
And the leaky old windows kept a constant breeze floating throughout the apartment like the silent wake of a wandering wayward spirit.
Oh, I love it. That was hot. That was hot.
Ophelia was tripping out, staring at the window, when she suddenly arched her back and her hair literally stood on end like a spike-covered pufferfish.
She began hissing and slowly backing away from the windows.
While these psychotic hallucinations were quote-unquote normal for her, that night's display was somewhat unusual.
That night, her fur was not only standing on end, but I shit you not, small sparks shot out from the tips like a sparkler on the 4th of July.
What? Wait, I need to stop you for a second. what what's happening right now that the cat sparks are coming out of its hair and that this is just something that happens with cats i don't have cats uh i have three cats and i have never seen sparks shoot out from the tips of i feel this was passed over too quickly without any kind of comment to what the fuck is happening you're not wrong i think in my brain i was just like What?
Are you Googling? I'm Googling because I'm like, what the fuck does that mean?
Yeah, I've never, I've like grown up with cats and I've never seen that.
I am not saying I don't believe you. I do believe you.
But I'm like, why don't my cats do that?
Oh, I mean, maybe it's static electricity.
No, but she said like a sparkler. Excuse me, they said like a sparkler.
Yeah, it's static electricity. Shit. It says like when you pet them in a dark room, you can sometimes see the sparks from the static electricity.
Oh, that's crazy. Okay, that makes sense now.
I needed a moment to collect my thoughts because I was like, we're just blowing by that too quick.
That's nuts. Whoa. Okay. The only thing that ever happens, like the cats don't, my cats don't get like static electrified very often, but if they do, I just feel it really quick.
And then I'm like, oh my God, I wasn't zapping you.
I'm sorry. But maybe in a dark room, you would see the spark.
Maybe I'm going to have to test that out.
Probably shouldn't. All right. Now sisters.
This was back in prehistoric time where there were no cell phones, brick, flip, or otherwise.
In fact, the only phone in the entire house was a payphone in the entry.
And you guessed it, this bitch had used all of her change doing laundry that afternoon.
Okay, I might have spent some of it on snacks from the vending machine and the laundromat.
I feel that. Nothing like an ice cold Coke and a bag of Fritos to pass the time.
That sounds great right now. Oh, that sounds so delish.
Since the phone was not an option, I immediately turned off all the lights in the apartment, drug my 400-ton futon to block my front door, and engaged the chain lock on the kitchen door, which led to the carport and backyard.
I tried in vain to drag the refrigerator in front of the door, but regardless of the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, this chick was a would-be librarian, not an Amazon, and Ophelia and Gimpy were as useless in this regard as a screen door on a submarine.
Or so I thought. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the back door.
I'm shitting myself. I don't like it. The sudden noise propelling me forward like toward the ceiling like a... Sorry, I fucked this all up and you wrote it great.
The sudden noise propelled me toward the ceiling like a bottle rocket and triggered an episode of explosive onset diarrhea.
Yes, I literally shat my pants. I don't blame you.
I fully expected an axe to split through the door and Jack Nicholson's creepy ass head to pop through the hole when I heard a man's voice saying, ma'am, it's the police.
This being in the self, it was more like, ma'am, this is the police.
I love that. Oh my god. He said, I was patrolling the neighborhood and saw a fellow looking through your bedroom window.
I chased him off, but I lost him. Now, why don't you just let me in and I'll check your doors and windows to make sure they're secure.
Hate to think of anything happening to a pretty little thing like you.
Get the fuck away from my door, sir. I'd be like, that's a no for me, sir.
I'd be like, that's unprofessional. Get fucked.
Thank you so much for your time and your service, but you can leave.
Thank you, sir. I opened the door a crack, but left the chain in place.
Despite the uniform, flashlight, and gun, something just didn't feel right.
Then it struck me. He was wearing thick glasses.
I'm pretty sure you'd be rejected by the police academy if you were legally blind.
You would think so. That's true. And there was a second tip-off.
How the hell did he know it was my bedroom window unless he was the one looking through it?
Well, for you to think on your feet like that with shit literally marinating in your pants is wild.
Smart. As reality was dawning in my Adela... Adela... Abdel... Abdelpated?
Adelpated? Adelpated. Adelpated. Sorry, that was hard to say.
And you gave us the definition. It means mixed up or confused.
You gave us a lot of definitions and I appreciate that.
You did. Thank you. Ophelia somehow squeezed through the crack in the open door and launched herself at the faux police officer, sinking her claws in his man titties and dangling like a rock climber hanging by their fingers off a sheer cliff.
Ophelia! Then, for good measure, psycho attack kitty grabbed his chin in her jaws and clamped down.
I swear I heard that familiar crunching sound.
Ophelia had caught herself another cockroach.
What? The blind, fake policeman wailed like a banshee and ran down the sidewalk like a rabbit with his tail on fire, Ophelia still swinging from his chin.
A minute later, a pair of real police officers showed up on my doorstep.
I knew they were real this time because right about then, Ophelia appeared out of the darkness, sauntered casually and calmly up to the officers, snaked her body between their legs and slipped back in the door, her fur as flat as a fucking runway.
I love that she sounds like, hey, boys. She's like, these are the good ones.
Like, I feel like she's a big one. She's like Mae West walking through like, hey, fellas.
And then she's like, I love it. She just comes out of the darkness.
Well, Ophelia made the 10 o'clock news and became a minor celebrity.
The mayor actually sent her a case of tuna fish.
I told you it was a small town. That's iconic.
That's amazing. Afterwards, one of my neighbors had some stickers printed up that said, warning, premises patrolled by a psycho attack cat, which they distributed around the neighborhood.
They never caught that cock-sucking, flea-fucking human cockroach, but he never showed up in my town again.
Ugh. I think it was the stickers in everyone's window that did it.
Well, that's the end of the story. As I said before, I have a spoopy one I'll save for another time.
Okay, Ash, take it away. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you think you're going to peek into somebody's bedroom window wearing a cop suit and then knock on the door and say, I'm a real cop, you little pearly little thang, and somebody's going to kill you if I don't come in here and check all your golf stand locks.
But don't keep it that weird, because guess what?
Ophelia, the attack kitty, will fucking... kill you wow that was perfect and ophelia for fucking mayor is what i say forever she is a real one i'm obsessed a real one all right the next one that i am going to read that was hilarious by the way thank you for that thank you and the paint the picture that you painted and also i could see everything yeah shout out to ophelia i'm obsessed shout out to ophelia she's gonna protect you forever yeah she is even in the afterlife i know it Hey weirdos, we need to tell you about something that has completely blown our minds, collectively.
There's a new show called Lawless Planet that's uncovering true crime stories so massive, they're affecting the entire planet.
Post-Zack Goldbaum is investigating real cases where environmental destruction meets murder, conspiracy, and cover-ups.
We're talking about activists who disappear in the Amazon rainforest, whistleblowers who risk everything to expose deadly corporate secrets, and communities being silently poisoned while powerful people profit.
What makes these stories truly terrifying?
They're happening right now. This isn't history.
It's a massive criminal conspiracy unfolding in real time with consequences that affect us all.
Each episode feels like opening a case file into the darkest corners of corporate and government power.
Trust us. Once you start listening, you will not be able to stop thinking about these stories.
Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery+.
I think the next one I'm going to read is Listener Tale for Your Ear Holes.
I have met the victims of a serial killer.
What? It says, hello, founders of the weirdo community.
Let me do the standard greeting of holy hell, I love you too.
Been listening since the beginning. No, like for real.
Y'all had just released episode five. Holy shit.
Oh, my God. My oldest sister and I are 10 years apart in the same age range as you two, and it makes my spoopy little heart happy and think of her when I listen.
She's an 85 baby and I'm a 95 baby. Holy shit.
That's weird. Ash, I know you're curious.
She's a Cancer and I'm a Capricorn. Whoa, what a combo.
Okay, so first let's get this out of the way.
Let me make sure. Yeah. Okay. My name's Sarah.
It's like... It's not. It's like Sarah, but with a funky twist.
And yes, you can use it. Haven't changed the name in the story either because not many people are involved.
No one is in danger here. And the one who does listen to Morbid is my stepmom, Nancy.
Sup, Nance? The spook spook has been attached in a putt-a-fuff for your convenience.
Also attached is a photo from my Instagram from my front porch of my stepmom's house.
You'll see the country road I'm talking about in the story.
Oh, this is beautiful. Ooh, but also like, ooh, spooky.
So spooky, but I want to live there. Let's see.
So here's the story. It's a long one, so hold on to your butts.
A thousand percent worth it, though. Just you wait.
Here's 2007. I'm 11 years old and I'm short as fuck, so I'm walking around the world looking probably closer to eight or nine.
I feel that. The short life is a hard life.
Yes, I also feel that. Shit happens. Nothing to do with the story, but Elena and I are similar heights from what you have all said, so I know she gets it.
That's true. I do. My mom, sweet angel face of a lady named Wendy, actually named after Wendy Darling because her mom had just read Peter Pan for the first time when she found out she was pregnant.
That's adorable. That's precious. Had just passed away after a bad bitch three-year battle with cancer.
I'm so sorry. My dad had also just gotten remarried to, you guessed it from the intro, Nancy.
We moved into her three-story farmhouse from ours because it was bigger.
Also on nine acres of land surrounded by forest and trees.
Hell yeah. Also, about a 10-minute drive from the Pisgah National... Is that how you say it?
I don't know. I've known what this is before.
Pisgah, I think it is. I'll sing a song while you look it up.
Yeah, just talk about something. No, I'm going to sing my song where I sing while you look things up.
I'm going to sing it so good. Look into me.
I just said, listen to me. I'm going as fast as I can.
I promise everybody. Everybody's like, God damn it, Elena.
Please look that up way faster. All right, I got it.
Hold on. She just said forest. Pisgah National Forest.
Pisgah. Okay, cool. Wow, nobody even had to hear my shitty song.
Look at that. All right. A 10-minute drive from the Pisgah National Forest, which is part of the Appalachian Trail or Appalachian.
I'm not really sure. I get it wrong every time.
I wish you had said or Appalachian if you're nasty.
Or Appalachian if you're nasty. Thank you.
But up here... We say Appalachian, or at least my family does, so that's just what I grew up with.
The tale begins at the farm, what we call Nancy's house, in Horseshoe, North Carolina, population under 3,000 people.
Whoa. Basically, everyone knows everyone to some sort of extent.
The way the house is set up is that the front porch faces that old country road that everyone who lives there has to use to get to the local surrounding towns.
Brevard, Asheville, Hendersonville, etc.
Think 15-plus minute drive to the nearest Walmart.
It's a quiet road and not uncommon to see people go on walks on it through the day.
It's especially easy to see them from the front porch.
In the spring and summer of 2007, I particularly noticed one old couple who would take walks pretty often and saw them when we would go on hikes in the forest.
Almost every day I saw them. I'd wave and say a little hi from my porch, and they'd always wave back.
Cute little couple. Reminded me of my grandparents.
Except they were active as fuck. Miss Mam in particular could outrun me up a mountain if she wanted to.
Hell yeah. Then one day in November of 2007, I realized I didn't see them around anymore.
I was 11, so I really didn't think much of it.
I commented to my parents and we all shrugged it off as them being elderly and it's getting colder outside.
So I figured either the good Lord above is protecting me, or it's been a solid 11 years on planet Earth. if this is how i go peace out motherfuckers what a what a rational mind at 11 you know what this is either the good lord protecting me or it's been a great 11 years i'm out nothing i can do about it i never said much because i thought nothing of it since shadow broski wasn't doing me any harm also again super religious fam and was not looking for looking for a pentecostal exorcism either i really don't blame you dude was chill and i was decently unbothered Aww.
Aww. Aww. I decide to ask my stepmom about the shadow man.
I thought she'd laugh and brush it off or just go, that's really creepy.
And instead, she goes, the tall one with the hat?
Ma'am what? Yeah, I've been seeing him around for years.
Oh, okay. Real casual, Nance. Thanks. Fast forward again to April 26th of 2021.
It's a Monday. I'm at work. I'm listening to Morbid.
I'm listening to this awful but so well done case and stop dead in my tracks.
Immediate tears in my eyes. I hear Elena say that Gary Michael Hilton.
I knew that's what this was. I did too. Oh.
Oh. I won't claim that my shadow friend was Mr. Bryant because I hope to all of the gods that he is resting in peace.
But I mean absolutely zero harm or sadness to his family by implying it.
But I do like to think that parts of he and Irene still glimmer throughout every now and then so they can enjoy the outdoors and fresh North Carolina countryside air again.
I believe that too. I do too, absolutely.
I think that's exactly what they would do.
Because that's where they were happiest.
They always say that you go where you're the happiest.
Exactly. And you're right. Miss Mim was a bad bitch.
Yeah, she was. She could take us all on.
Anyway, my spooky friends, that's my story.
That's the story of how I was unknowingly neighbors of the victims of a serial killer and was checked in on what I'd like to believe was the parts of themselves they left on this earth.
I think it's okay if we keep it this weird.
I think so. That was so beautiful and heartbreaking and just like...
All of the above. Yeah. And you know what?
Like, oh, it just that story in particular.
I remember reading that when I was researching it and it just destroyed me.
Yeah. Like their love and their lives were something you don't see.
It's just not what you see. So it was like literally like otherworldly.
Oh, it kills me. It really does. And John and Irene and like to their families, like I hope that parts of them are around and still enjoying it.
I think so. Like they're resting in peace, but they've left the parts that just want to explore.
Yeah, totally. I love that. That was like a really beautiful tale.
Thank you for that. What I like to call devastatingly beautiful.
It was devastatingly beautiful. That just like touched me.
Me too. All right, this sounds like a funny one, so I'm going to move on to this one.
All right, yeah, let's move on to a funny one.
We like to end on that. Listener tales, literal spilled tea, and the devil's bunghole.
Yeah, that does sound like a funny one. I don't think it's going to be serious.
No, I don't think so. You never know, though.
Yeah. All right, so it says... Happy whatever season it is when you read this.
It's Christmas, so thank you. It's Christmas, thank you.
Marissa here, and yes, you can definitely use my name.
After all, Marissa spelled backward is Assyram, and you can't miss the opportunity to realize that.
Do you know that we used to say that to my best friend Marissa all the time?
Assyram. I never realized it until I met Marissa, but it's one of my favorite things.
Assyram. Thank you for that gift. Thank you.
I want to start off by saying how much I love your podcast.
I know. I know. Everyone says that. I love it.
Honestly, it keeps me going. You see, I started an Etsy shop during COVID to keep me busy.
And when the holidays were in full swing, I was constantly in my garage alone early in the morning and late at night.
I could only listen to my Taking Back Sunday playlist so many times.
What the fuck? Before I had to mix it up.
But hashtag emo's not dead. Am I right? We were just talking about this.
How right you are. We were literally talking about Taking Back Sunday this morning.
Literally talking. Like, you guys, it's weird.
Yeah. It's weird that you guys are always on the same wavelength without realizing it.
Life is a simulation and I hate it. Damn.
Wow, that was fucking nuts. Like literally mere hours ago.
Truly. We were talking about, Elena was talking about all the concerts she got to go to.
I got to go to a lot of Taking Back Sunday shows because it was before they were like huge.
Yeah, I only got to go to one and I was bummed out about it.
But yeah, you're right. Emo's not dead and never will be.
Never will be. Have you seen the videos of like me forcing my kids to like watch pop punk shit?
I'm like, that's me. That's me. That's when I stumbled across you ladies.
You spunky gals are practically my co-workers.
Hell yeah. But lucky for you, you never have to hear my cackles and bird-like gasps.
I don't even think that's lucky for us. I want it.
I'm lucky for you. You don't get to hear me mumble, fuck you, Myra Hindley, anytime I have a minor inconvenience.
Enough about me, though. Let's get into it.
Thank you for all your kind words, though.
Yeah. So I'm going to hit you with a negative and positive during my storytelling.
Hold on to your bungholes and let's start with the negative tale.
I think that's a good way to go about it.
Yeah, start with the yuck, end with the yay.
So I'm a mother of 17. Just kidding. Only three.
Oh my god. I was literally like, oh! Yeah, when I first heard that, I was like, holy shit.
But I mean, three might as well be 17. Truly.
Small, lovely demons. Naturally pronounced like demons.
Sorry. Have shout... I love it. Just kidding.
Only three small, lovely diamonds have shot out of my precious body.
But hot damn, does it feel like 17? Oh, yeah.
I'm sure Elena can relate. Total mom strugs.
Yep, definitely can. Anywho, at the time of this story, I only had my first spawn, who we will call E. E was around two and a half, three years old at this point.
I was 100 years pregnant with E's sister, H, and we were starting to prep her nursery.
We all feel that. Yeah. I don't yet, but like I watched it happen and that's... A hundred years pregnant is a real thing.
You were a hundred years pregnant two times.
Yep. Now, a little backstory on our house.
It was in the beautiful state of Washington.
Shout out to Bigfoot. I hope you're listening.
I do too. Me too. We didn't own this house.
We didn't rent this house. This was a lovely, let the military pick which shithole, possibly black mold infested box of walls you get to live in.
Just kidding. Just kidding. Somewhat. Somewhat.
It wasn't that horrible. Oh, except for all the old-ass ancient Native American burial grounds located throughout the entire base and town in which we lived.
Oh. That'll cause some shit. Yeah. The second we moved into our crusty residence, I immediately was like, nah, shit's weird.
The main floor wasn't too bad, minus the mucus-colored walls, orange-tinted vinyl hardwood floors, and shitty appliances.
Who tints hardwood orange? What the fuck?
Ew. No sketchy vibes on that level, but go up or down and you'll feel like you're crawling into the depths of hell.
I hate that. My husband and I had to have a buddy system for the basement when we did our laundry, so neither of us would get instantly snatched into what I can only imagine would be the devil's sphincter after he gulped a gallon of Taco Bell fire sauce.
I'm obsessed with you. When you would be in the master bedroom or ease room upstairs, it always felt like you were with someone.
Even doing simple chores like putting away laundry creeped me the motherfuck out.
My husband was always on rotating shifts in the Air Force, so I spent mad nights sleeping alone with my thoughts and nightmares.
Oh, God. My God. And you're pregnant, too.
Yeah. So I know those nightmares are weird.
Oh, so vivid. I remember hearing about Elena's.
Yep. You had the weirdest fucking dreams when you were pregnant.
Yeah, you do. Oh, no. Every single time he would have these night terrors, he would talk about a half-human, half-skeleton that came out of the wall near the stairs and would watch him lay in bed.
That's like the lady that didn't have a body, but she was just made of bones.
She didn't have a body, she was just made of bones.
Her face was kind of human-y. Ew. I can still fucking see that bitch to this day.
Man, I wish I could see her. I wish I could draw.
But I want to know what you saw. I know.
But I gotta see it. She was fucking terrible.
Anyways, he realized this creepy half-breed creature as having a missing stomach.
And he would watch him while rocking back and forth near the wall.
A missing stomach? At first, I figured it was his imagination because at this point, his two biggest obsessions were trolls and anything Halloween.
We were watching a lot of Halloween shows, movies, and music videos on top of reading plenty of Halloween picture books.
So I figured we might have brought on the spooky season a little too much, especially because it was June.
We've all been there. It's all right. We've all been there.
We're there literally every day. All of my doubt came to a freaking screeching halt one disturbing morning.
Oh, no. My sweet baby sugar pie honey baby woke up before me and trotted down our shack-colored stairs across our goldfish-tinted hardwood, faux hardwood, and into our closet-sized bedroom.
In the bedroom, he found his mama sleeping, looked like she swallowed a full-sized pig at this point in her pregnancy, but definitely not a pig from the Picton farm.
Can I get an amen? Amen. Amen. And fuck you, Willie.
That's what they wrote. i agree i awoke to his little pitter patters and invited him to come snuggle he climbed over my mount vesuvius belly and started to cuddle he then said something that shot my spine right out of my rectum oh god you're hilarious he said when he walked into my room the stomachless cunt from upstairs was standing over top my body watching me sleep what Me being a badass bitch from New York, I originally thought that if I ever had an encounter with a demon, I would put him in a fucking chokehold and soak his ass in holy water.
Nah, not the case. This bitch was scurred.
Straight shooketh. I had felt this evil bitch watching me while I slept, which is initially why I woke up so easily. see your girl is a heavy ass sleeper one time in middle school i fell off the top of my bunk bed like a boiled noodle hit the i can like hear that like a boiled noodle the bottom bed frame like a breaching humpback whale split open my entire lip and was bleeding all over the carpet did your girl ass i ram wake up not even for a fucking second I want to know you.
This is I want to know you. I want to know you.
That's my room. My mom heard me fall to my death from her bedroom and came to check on me and found me flopped out looking like a bloody turd.
So for me to wake up easily is rare. I guess that's what you're trying to say.
Especially while growing a whole ass other human.
But needless to say, we didn't stay in that house much longer before we peaced the fuck out, leaving that stomachless twat in our dust.
I ended up becoming friends on Facebook with the girl who moved in after us and one day she posted on the Facebook page asking if anyone else on base had creepy things happen and feelings happen in their house because they were noticing negative vibes.
Cringe. Her problem now. Now for the positive part of this story.
Shortly before we moved out of the Devil's Chateau, something bananas happened.
Why? This is so funny. I don't know. You're such a good writer.
I was minding my own business, bee-bopping in the kitchen, doing my thang.
E.H. and my husband were snuggling in the living room, quietly watching a movie.
Also, can I just say, your family sounds wholesome as fuck.
I know, they sound so cute. I had finally pushed out that tiny, a little under six pound baby girl.
I decided to make myself a cup of Earl Grey.
Hell yeah, you did. As I was dunking my teabag, I started singing up and down, up and down, up and down in my head and thought of my grandma.
I think I might have sang that wrong. Do you know what that is?
Maybe just like up and down, up and down.
There you go, sure. I don't know. See, my grandma lived with us when I was a child because unfortunately she was battling breast cancer and Alzheimer's.
Every evening after school, I would race home to sit next to her so she could watch me do origami.
Ah, the 90s. Oh, my God. And we'd drink tea together.
When we did, she would always sing up and down, up and down, up and down.
Unfortunately, she died a couple years into our tradition, but I always think of her when I'm drinking tea.
That was so beautiful. Fast forward to me standing in my kitchen thinking about her, and what do I hear?
E singing in the living room up and down, up and down, up and down.
My anus hit those shitty orange tinted floors.
I spilled half of my tea. I looked my husband dead in the eye like, what the fuck?
He looks back like, yo. Now, listen up, y'all.
He couldn't see me making the tea, and he had also never heard me say that out loud, which if you didn't catch in the text above, I was singing it in my head, not out loud.
Oh, my God. I was shook. I did a full-blown yeet to the basement so fast that I forgot to even use the buddy system, and I dialed up my mom.
I told her the whole story, and we had a good cry for like 20 minutes.
I went back upstairs. When I went back upstairs, my husband is in our room changing baby H. E was smiling by our back door.
I asked him what he was up to. Clench those assholes of yours for what I'm about to say.
I'm clenching. E tells me that shortly after I left and my husband went with the baby, an old lady came in through the front door.
They played hide and seek for a while. And right before I came upstairs, she told him she loved him, but that she had to go.
Oh my God. And she left through the back door.
Oh my God. my god that is the most beautiful thing i have ever heard i am your grandma played hide and seek with your child and i love that and then said i love you but i have to go oh i have to go oh my goodness dead that's all i could use to describe my feelings i almost shot he couldn't get over how nice she was and how much they laughed he still remembers everything about that house to this day even though now we live on the completely other coast shout out to my fellow charlestonians isn't that a word who the fuck knows i'm still new here anyway thanks for listening also let's be best friends yeah we should it's already happened i'll make nachos and we can summon demons just kidding ash we can just watch bravo all of that sounds great are you team kyle richards or team lisa vanderpump let's chat i am always in forever lisa vanderpump goodbye kyle fucking oh yeah i'm not a big kyle richards fan anyways kyle gotta run can't have my 17 kids waking up before i get the chance to sleep keep it weird but not so weird that a demon crawls out of the depths of hell to ruin a sleep all sleep for you for over two years and stands over you while you sleep but you barely notice because one time you were knocked unconscious as a child because your parents thought you could handle bunk beds but really you couldn't because you were always too exhausted for making mad origami with your grandma that you noodle flop in your sleep and eat to your almost death xoxo marissa Also, ass I ram.
Marissa, that was so fucking perfect. I'm obsessed with you so much.
We're best friends. Let's hang out and watch Bravo.
Bring the nachos. Let's talk shit about Kyle Richards.
Hell yeah. I'm excited. Let's go. We'll talk about having 17 kids.
We'll listen. We'll drink some tea. Let's go.
Let's do it. This sounds great. You guys.
Yeah. I was going to say, have you ever had a London Fog?
We could drink those. Yes. M from And That's Why We Drink.
Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. M is the real one for that one.
OG. The OG. Wow. I love all of you guys so much.
Let's just hang out. That was a great batch of Listener Tales.
And it was interesting because a few people had similar relationships with like their family members to us.
And then the whole Taking Back Sunday thing.
Yeah, that was very interesting. You guys are just always on our wavelength.
We're meant to be in each other's lives.
This is why I love Listener Tales. I love Listen or Tell so much.
They just, they show us how like connected we all are.
Yeah. And there's so many for us to read.
Like you guys submit, submit these. You submit so many.
We get like thousands of these. Yes. We could do this forever.
We should. We should. Let's do it. Let's go.
All right, guys. Well, we love you so much and we hope that you keep listening.
And we hope you keep it weird. but not so weird that you don't love listener tales because what are you crazy what are you crazy if you like morbid you can listen early and ad free right now by joining wondery plus in the wondery app or on apple podcasts prime members can listen ad free on amazon music before you go tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com survey
