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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. I am absolutely obsessed with a sweet treat after dinner, and my favorite sweet treat right now is my mochi.
It's mine, not yours. Just kidding. You can have some too.
This is a cool, creamy scoop of ice cream wrapped in a soft, chewy dough.
It's like a sweet little ice cream dumpling or ravioli.
I'm obsessed. It's pillowy. It's satisfying.
I feel indulged. I just love it so much.
I really am obsessed with the strawberry flavor right now.
My mochi is only around 70 calories per piece, which like, hello, that's amazing.
My mochi is gluten-free and each box has six perfectly portioned mochi snacks.
Do I eat two a night? Yeah, yeah, I do because they're that good.
And guess what? My Mochi is the number one mochi ice cream in the U.S. of A. The strawberry flavor is bursting with fresh picked fruit flavor that tastes incredibly refreshing.
I love, love, love them after dinner. This August, look for the purple box of My Mochi ice cream at your local grocery store and feel joyfully chill with the coolest treat around, My Mochi.
I started. That's okay. We can edit it out.
Cool. Hey, weirdos. I'm Ash. I'm Elena. We should just like not even edit that out.
No, we shouldn't. And this is Morbid. Morbid.
It's frat, it's not. Wow. This is a Listener Tales episode.
I don't know if you can tell, we're always very punchy.
It's frat, it's not. It's frat, it's not.
It's not frat. I think it's thirst. It certainly is thirst.
And you know what? Here we are. We were just, we decided to just turn on the recording device.
Yeah, really quick. We were having a little discussion and we were like, why are we not talking to everyone else about this?
So, hey, you're in our discussion now. So, hey, what's up?
We were just talking about how, like, do you guys just, like, not give a fuck?
Because I feel like it's, like, a really great place to be.
I do give a fuck, unfortunately. Yeah, that's what we were talking about.
So, I'm not there yet. Yeah, we were saying, you go ahead, start the scene for us. to someone today and they were talking about how their friend who was like in their like late 60s or something has finally gotten to the point where they're like, if you like me, you like me.
And if you don't, you don't. Like, I'm not going to go out of my way to like impress anyone or or try to make you like me.
And I was like, wow. OK. And I was like, I feel like that happened to me somewhere between 30 and 36.
Am I 36? Yeah, I'm 26. So you're 36. Somewhere in there.
And I feel fully nested In my, you like me, you like me, you don't, you don't, I can't do anything about it kind of feeling.
And it's very, it feels great. I bet. It's great.
I can't even imagine. I'm in like my Jenna Rink stage right now where I just can't fucking wait to be 30, flirty, and thriving.
And I'll only flirt with Drew because like who else would I flirt with?
But... I'm not thriving. And I give so much of a shit a lot of times, like, what people care, like, think about me.
It's hard not to. It is. And actually, I'm, like, constantly thinking about what people think about me, which is a terrible place to be in.
Yeah, and everybody is in that or has been in that.
So, like, everybody can relate to that feeling.
That's why we wanted to talk about it, because we're, like, I'm sure many of you can relate to this.
And we're on, like, such differing sides that I think we can both offer something to everyone listening.
Well, and it's, like, just seeing, like, um...
You know, like we always talk about how like it seems like social media and like stuff is just really tanking.
It's really tanking everybody's vibe lately.
And it's like I saw like I think I saw a TikTok where somebody was talking about this tweet that went out from someone.
And I truly believe Twitter is like a dumpster fire now.
Like, I really don't think it's any anywhere good.
But this person had just written this person who doesn't really have like a massive following, just like, you know, just any person.
Yeah. She just woke up and she wrote out a tweet that said something along the lines of.
My favorite part of the day is waking up and going outside with my husband and sitting on our, you know, next to our garden with coffee.
And she said, like, we never run out of things to say.
And I really love him. Like, how fucking sweet is that?
If I saw that tweet, I would either one, like it and then move on or two, just move on and not even interact with it.
Yeah. Because I'm like, good for you. That's great.
That's a lovely sentiment. I'm glad that you guys never run out of things to say.
That's love. And that's great that you have that.
But I'm just going to move about my day.
But apparently... Apparently? Apparently, that tweet blew up and people started coming at her being like, oh, so you have a garden?
Oh, I wake up and I have to do this. And it's like, okay.
It's not about you. No one else's life diminishes what you are going through.
Like, you don't have to do that. And this person that I was watching on TikTok was like, it is so wild to me that people do that now.
And you would never do it in real life. Like, if you were in front of someone at dinner.
And they were like, you know what? This morning was great.
This morning was great. I just chatted with my husband.
You know, I really love my husband. Like, it just felt really good.
You wouldn't be like, oh, really, fucker?
I'm single. And that pisses me off. Like, you wouldn't do that.
Yeah. Like, maybe you would. But then you just suck.
But that's the thing. You wouldn't. Like, no one would.
But because there's this nice little screen in front of you and you can just log off and go about your day after you fuck with someone else's, it's such a weird thing that we have moved into.
And it's like, just let people... If somebody loves their person and they want to say, woo, I just love this person, love my garden, love my coffee, let them love their garden and their coffee.
Who the fuck cares? It's just so wild to me.
I don't know. I think it's just like everybody is always upset about what they don't have.
And if somebody has that thing that they don't have, they want to take it from them.
And it's like, that's just not a nice way to live.
And it's like, it's not how the world works.
No. And I think social media and like everybody being able to say whatever the fuck they want to whoever the fuck they want anonymously, essentially.
And with, with a keyboard, it's like, I feel like it's just, you see this kind of stuff more and more.
And I feel like lately, a lot of people I've talked to at least are like, yeah, I'm just kind of fucking over it. this social media shit like it's really starting to turn on itself and it's like just can't it be like a fun place like i love like my tiktoks just this fun little little scroll through watch puppies and kids and loopy bloopy and just happy things and like interesting things and just like talented people and that's what it needs to be bad again it's like where did it where did it go Where do we go from here?
But let me tell you, if you guys have ever been considering removing yourselves from any social media platforms and you're struggling from it, highly recommend.
Yeah. A detox is good. It feels good. It really does.
You're not being subject, especially like Twitter and shit.
It's like you're not being subject to all this like, you know, just constant bad news and stuff and constant bad takes and that's the other thing like you're just getting bad opinions on things and it's like it just feels much better to not be completely up on everything i like being behind the curve i do too i keep finding things out like way later and just being like oh shit who knew you're just like oh shit that happened cool but yeah we were just talking about that so we figured um we'd invite our our pals out there to chat with us yeah i hope that was a i hope that was a good chat for all of us yeah you know i just can't wait to be 30.
And flirty and thriving. Yeah. I love that for you.
I love that for you. You'll get there. You'll get to 30.
Hopefully. It's coming. I mean, an asteroid might come.
You never know. I mean, there are times when I root for the asteroids.
No, I never do. I want to have kids first.
I can root for it sometimes. But you know what?
Here we are. Listener Tales. It gets wild in here for Listener Tales.
It truly does. Sorry if you heard any clicking.
I had to adjust my mic. I will just destroy her later for that.
So don't worry. If you were worried about it, don't worry about it.
Don't destroy me. I already copy and pasted that one into a document.
So don't you worry about it. You know, it's sad, though.
I have to read along. There you go. All right.
So let's start off here with one that is entitled, That One Time I Went Into a Motherfucking Murderer's Creepy-Ass Basement.
Okay. Let's start there. Wow. You started off with a bang, bang, bang.
Bang, bang. All right, let me bring this up.
Hi, ladies. I just wanted to start off by saying that I'm a relatively new listener.
Welcome. Hello. But I've been binging the hell out of your podcast.
You get me through the day at my boring-ass job, and you also help me power through workouts after work.
That's pretty cool. Ooh, I wish I did that.
I know. I would love to power myself through a workout.
That must be so nice. How cool that you can work out after work.
I'm just kidding. But... That's great. I want to power myself through a workout.
Maybe you just inspired us. I feel like you did.
I was literally just going to say, I think you inspired me.
So thank you for that. I really appreciate all the work you put into researching cases.
And now you showcase the victims rather than the shitbag perps.
Thank you very much. Also, Elena, congrats on The Butcher and the Wren.
Thank you! It's on my long-ass list of books to read.
Thank you. Well, if you are looking for it, you can get it on tinyurl.com slash The Butcher and the Wren, or you can go to Target, Walmart, Kroger, Costco, BJ's, or any other fucking store or airplane place near you.
Airplane place. That's my favorite thing.
Yeah. Thanks, hype man. Yeah. Anyways, on to the story.
This is fucking long. You can use my name and all of the other names in the story.
I changed the names used except mine and the murderer.
Thanks. This person's name is Samantha. Thanks, Samantha.
Samantha. Samantha. I don't even know a Samantha.
There we go. Back in the mid-2010s, I worked in eastern Ohio in the oil industry.
Whoa. That's wild. I basically had to test landowners' water wells before oil companies started drilling in the area as CYA for the oil companies.
Don't hate me. I had student loans and a girl's got to eat.
You're a good girl. No judgment here. This job involved me and a technician, James.
Hi, James. Going into people's houses, running their water for a while to clear the lines, and taking samples of the water to take to the lab later that day.
It's giving Erin Brockovich. There you go.
I also had to talk to the owner about the water source and any issues they had with it in the past.
Usually I scheduled sampling events ahead of time, but on this particular day, we didn't have anything planned.
So we decided to start knocking on doors to see if we could find work near where the new oil well was going to be installed.
We pull up to this house, and the first thing I notice is shit.
Everywhere. Landscaping equipment, barrels, wood, trash, pots, pans, clothes, firewoods, beer cans, liquor bottles, just shit everywhere.
I had been doing the job for a while at that point, so I had seen some shit and generally didn't judge.
But this was bad enough for me to judge a little.
The house itself was dilapidated, peeling paint on wood siding, shutters hanging by one nail, and a boarded-up window.
I questioned whether someone actually lived here.
I love that you still went ahead. I was going to say.
Still proceeded. I think I would have been like, you know what?
Next house. I'm not mad at you. I love that you did.
I'm not mad at you. The other thing I noticed, that's like true no judgment.
She's being true to her word. Yeah. The other thing I noticed in front of the house was two mannequins hanging from real, actual nooses.
Okay, this is the time when you should leave.
Yeah, okay. I wasn't mad at you. I'm getting mad at you, Sam.
Yeah. The mannequins were wearing... Was this Halloween?
I don't think it was. I didn't get that note.
The mannequins were wearing high-visibility vests that construction workers always wear.
I looked down and noticed that I was wearing the exact same motherfucking vest that the hanging mannequins were wearing.
Omen? Probably. Omen? Definitely. At this point, James and I looked at each other and didn't say a word.
I knew we were both thinking, what the actual fuck?
I told him to grab all the crap from the truck and to not fucking leave my side because I had a weird feeling.
And my feelings are right most of the time.
Hell yeah, brother. I walked to the door and knocked. hoping that no one would answer.
My hopes were quickly dashed when a man with long curly hair, no shirt, and two beers in his hands opened the door.
It's 10 a.m., but whatever. Live your life, dude man.
He immediately offered me a beer. I declined, even though at that point I could have used one.
Have you ever met someone who you knew was just a little off just by the look in their eyes?
He was one of those people, but he was very friendly and seemed outwardly nice.
He introduced himself as Sonny Ash. I went through my spiel and told Sonny why we were there.
He agreed to let us test his water, so I asked if he had an outside spigot I could use.
To my horror, he didn't, which meant we had to go inside the creeptastic hoarder den of a house.
I could already smell rotting food from the porch.
So I took a deep breath of fresh air and soldiered onward.
You're a brave soul. You are. Is that what it smells like?
Yeah. Well, I asked Sonny if he was a pressure tank, if he has a pressure tank.
Are you a pressure tank? Are you a pressure tank, Sonny?
I asked Sonny if he has a pressure tank, which is what usually creates water pressure in houses that use wells.
They typically have a spigot on them, which is the best place to sample groundwater from since it's close to the well.
Unfortunately, pressure tanks are in the basement 90% of the time.
Sonny said he did have a pressure tank and then runs away into the depths of the house.
He comes back with a motherfucking goddamn headlamp and hands it to me.
Silence of the Lambs type shit. At this point, I am so taken aback that I am just an autopilot.
So I follow Sonny toward the back of the house with James in tow.
Sonny made sure to point out a cluttered desk where he fills shotgun shells by hand.
That's nice, I say as I continue to aimlessly stumble along, wondering if I'm actually in a nightmare or maybe hell.
It feels like it. Pick your poison. Sunny stops at a dark doorway.
I peer inside and I see a dark stairwell.
Well, at least what's left of a stairwell.
75% of the stairs had collapsed. Before I could say, let's find somewhere else to sample, Sonny clambered down the quote-unquote stairs so fast that I wondered if he was a professional climber.
At this point in my life, I wasn't into true crime, so I stupidly donned the headlamp and followed Sonny into the abyss.
Holy shit. The basement had a dirt floor and no lights, hence the headlamp.
I looked around and the floor is covered in empty Kamchaka bottles.
Oh, no. I don't know what that is. You know, oh, they're going to tell me.
Oh, yeah. You know, the cheap vodka that people, me, drank in high school because it was $10 a bottle.
I didn't know that, but now I know what you're talking about.
I stumbled through the bottles towards the pressure tank and there wasn't a goddamn spigot on it or anywhere in the basement.
I wondered if he lured us down there to trap us.
As I was thinking that, Sonny exclaims, oh, you can help me change the filter.
And this fucker runs up the non-existent stairs, leaving James and I in the dark.
We stared at each other, and he put his hand on his pocket knife.
I wondered if I was going to spend my remaining days as Sonny's sex slave in the dark, moist basement.
That's a rough thought. Woof. Suddenly, a wild Sonny appeared with a new water filter.
We helped him change it and left the terrifying basement behind.
I found another spot upstairs to sample and finish that part of the job uneventfully.
As we were leaving, Sonny hands me a coin, quote, to remember him by.
Why do people do things like that? I don't know, man.
That's a thing that happens. That's real weird.
There used to be regulars at the bar where I worked, and they'd give me some weird-ass token of their affection and be like, so you remember me?
And I'm like, oh, I'm going to remember you regardless.
Yeah, don't worry about that. Woof. So he, you know, the coin to remember him by and casually mentions that he's a felon and just got out of jail for a weapons charge.
Why do you, how do you end with that? Like, bye, I'm a felon.
Thanks. I politely thanked him for the coin, told him to have a wonderful day and then booked it the fuck out of there, pulled over in a random field and bathed myself in little packets of hand sanitizer. from our truck's first aid kit.
That was by far the strangest experience I had at that job.
And Sunny's eyes still haunt me eight years later.
I bet. But wait, there's more. There's always more.
Several months later, I had moved across the state for a different job.
My old coworker messaged me on Facebook and asked if I remembered Sunny.
Of course I did. I asked why. They sent me a link to a news story.
Uh-oh. A few months after James and I had our adventure in Sonny's basement, he shot his girlfriend, cut up her body, and shoved her in one of those barrels in the yard.
Oh. I promptly opened a bottle of wine and drank the whole thing because I didn't know how to process that information any other way.
I don't blame you for that. Oh, my God. Sonny, who I learned was actually named Ralph, was sentenced to 22 years in prison for the murder of Tracy Heskett.
I've linked an article for you about his sentencing.
Oh, man. I need a drink after writing that, but unfortunately, I'm at work fucking off, so I can't.
Thanks for reading. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you ignore your gut feeling.
Follow a future murderer into his dungeon basement and help him change his water filter.
Happy spoopy season. Sam. Yeah, Sam. Holy shit.
That was spoopy. That was spoopy. All right, Sam.
Sam. Ole canole. I am so glad you got out of that place.
Me too. My goodness. Man, oh man. My child.
My Sam child. Sam. I'm so glad you're okay.
I am too. That was wild. Damn. I was picturing that the entire time you were talking.
Me too. I was like watching a movie in my head.
Yes. And then just like you're like fitting the headlamp on like begrudgingly.
And him like spider monkeying down the stairs.
And you're just like, okay. I just pictured him like side galloping for some reason.
Yeah, like a parkour kind of situation going on.
I could picture Sonny yelling parkour at Target.
Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Absolutely. Oof. Hate it.
Hate that. Hate it. And poor Tracy. I know.
Like his girlfriend. That is awful. Seriously.
Thank goodness that they found that. I know that he was caught.
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All right, well, there's no good transition here, but our next listener tale is the time me and my brother were kidnapped and forced to go rollerblading.
Okay, all right. There's pictures of it, too.
I'm horrified. Yeah, me too. Hey, guys, I have attached my listener story as a pot of pho with some photos to put the faces to the story.
I had to forward this from my previous attempt at sending this, as it didn't send the first time due to my inability to spell.
I feel you. I feel that real hard. What are you talking about?
You're a whole-ass author. Yeah, but I'm terrible at, like, technology.
My things don't send all the time because I forget to, like, put attachments and things and all that.
I suck at it. I think everybody does. We all suck.
We all suck. It's fine. Hi, Ash and Elena.
My name is Annie. Hi, Annie. You may use my name because if you read this on the podcast, I'll shit my soul out with excitement.
Whoa! Don't shit the whole thing out. You need a little soul.
Go get your soul. I live in a town called Huddersfield in the UK, part of Yorkshire.
Yeah. Thank you for the pronunciation key.
I love listening to you guys pronounce British words in places because where I'm from, we all sound like Sean Bean and it's weird to hear all the letters in a word being used.
I will start how all listener tales should by saying I love your podcast and it's the only one I'll listen to as I usually get bored.
I was introduced to your podcast by my good friend Paris.
I fucking love that name. Hell yeah, Paris.
Shout out to her. You can also use her name as she assured me that if you read this, she will be deceased with happiness.
Perform life-saving procedures, please. Yeah, defibulate.
Since then, I have managed to recommend it to everyone I've met.
Oh, thank you. I have a PH motherfucking D, I added the motherfucking, in criminal psychology.
I lecture in criminal psychology and work for the police, but I still use your podcast as a reference point so that at least my crushing debt was worth it.
You're a badass and that's amazing. Crazy.
Damn. I have so many stories I'd like to share with you about spoopy ghosts.
I'm also a trained medium. Oh, I'm sorry.
Is there anything you can't do? Yeah, get you a girl who could do both.
What the hell? Who could do all. Damn. But I decided the time me and my brother were kidnapped and forced to go rollerblading was the right one for now.
Annie, you chose correctly. You sure did.
My story starts with a bit of context. Hold on to your tits because it'll seem pointless, but it'll make sense.
Cool. I lived with my dad and brother in a different area of Yorkshire.
We don't tend to leave. After my mom passed away when I was three years old.
I'm sorry. My brother and I are only 18 months apart and we're around seven or eight when this took place.
We were treated as twins and so our ages blur in my mind.
I kind of love that. I do too. Excuse me.
My dad had previously had lung cancer before we were born, which resulted in him having a lung removed and left him with a permanent cough and extreme tiredness.
Oh my goodness. On top of that, he had two feral children who were pure dumb and constantly breaking things and fighting.
Despite being poorly, he was an amazing dad who danced with us, painted with us, sang silly made-up songs, and had made a lot of our toys.
And handmade a lot of our toys. That's wild and amazing.
He sounds amazing. He used to have a five-minute nap every day that usually turned out to be around two hours.
During this time, we were not to go into the kitchen to prevent us killing ourselves.
And we weren't to leave the house or garden.
Good rules, man. Great rules. Alongside this, we spent every weekend with our auntie and uncle to give dad a rest.
We lived in a small village where people were a bit strange and all the women seemed to fancy my dad.
I love that. He was quiet, tall, funny, and creative.
So they were drawn to him like flies to shit.
Hell yeah. He also had a dope as fuck mustache.
And you know what? He does. Because you attached a photo and I love that mustache.
He's a handsome man. And when I saw that, I said, that mustache is dope as fuck.
That's right. At one point, a farmer came to the door with a shotgun and told my dad to stay away from his wife, to which he replied, who is she?
Which one is she? And also, you need to move yourself before I really lose my temper about you bringing a gun to my house when there's children playing.
Oh, my God. After this, he also had to go at online dating using the AOL dial-up connection to meet a lady online who was a bit keen.
We all met her once, and my dad said on the way home that we won't see her again, as she was weird.
Yeah. I had attended in a full Woody from Toy Story outfit, so I couldn't judge on that.
And so just nodded, wobbling my giant cowboy hat.
My brother had gone as a pirate, and we felt it deserved effort.
As we felt it deserved effort. After that, we would often see this lady driving past the house, despite living nearly three hours away.
A small side note, where I'm from, anything that is more than an hour drive is basically inaccessible and doesn't really exist.
If you're invited to an event more than an hour away, you have an automatic and legitimate reason not to attend.
I'm always astounded when you guys are saying, only a four-hour drive, because I'm like, what?
What? I also kind of feel that way, though.
Yeah. Like, anything over an hour, I'm like, eee.
Yeah, like, that's long. Yeah. But if it's, like, a really cool thing that's haunted and it's four hours, I'm like, oh, I'll drive to that.
Anyway, so she kept driving past the house, and my dad was a bit like, okay, but we didn't think anything of it.
And when he asked her, she said she had a family in the next village.
Okay. One day, my dad had laid down... She had an entire family in the next... It was a whole ass family.
Oh, it says family. She had family. She had a second family.
I'm just adding articles where they don't belong.
One day, my dad had laid down for his nap and me and my brother were reenacting our favorite scene of Pirates of the Caribbean when this lady pulled into the driveway.
Uh-oh. She approached us in the garden and said not to wake Dad up as he had rung her and asked her to take us with her to give him a rest.
Oh. Remember, we were often told this when we went to Leeds for the weekend, and so it wasn't too strange.
She told us to grab our toys and get in the car.
Oh, no. Me and my brother's dumb pricks, dumb prick selves, got into that car.
The fact that this woman came to your home...
When your father was sleeping to kidnap you out of your home, she... She's something.
That's so scary. Due to her house being a while away and us being absolutely ridiculous and 100% unaware of the danger that we were in, we sang a chorus of Are We There Yet to our kidnapper.
Oh my God! And also had a meltdown about not having a McDonald's.
Wow. She drove us three hours away to her house.
Oh, my God. Where she took us inside and told us to stay away from windows and doors and only speak in whispers.
Oh, my God. I'm so stressed out right now.
The curtains were all shut and we were told to get changed into clothes that she had ready for us.
What? What? What? My brother is not part of the line as he sat in a corner screaming and I didn't dare let go of the girl in front to go to him.
Oh, my God. I haven't been rollerblading since as I got blisters and was bitter about it.
Yeah, and you were in the process of being kidnapped.
I understand that. I love that you're like, it's the blisters, not the trauma.
It was the blisters for me. She then took us back to her house and fed us cucumber sandwiches.
That sounds yummy. And put us in separate rooms, a girl's room with a dollhouse and a boy's room.
And these rooms were another boy and girl.
And I remember the girl saying, why have you done this again?
What? So she kidnapped other kids, right?
What? Separating us was a big mistake as we were never apart.
We didn't get different bedrooms until much later on as we would always sneak back together.
Not being able to see each other, oh my god, made us both scream.
Oh, this is killing me. And I mean scream.
This lady then quickly tried to make us quiet by feeding us more cucumber sandwiches and saying we could rollerblade again, which made us only scream more.
After a while, she gave up and led us into the living room together, where she took a final photo of us sitting in a chair together.
I've attached this for you too, as this photo is iconic.
The next day, she got all the photos developed and had them framed on above her fireplace.
I am horrified. This is like a movie. I am horrified.
This is a horror film. I don't even know what to say.
Meanwhile, while all this is happening, my dad had woken up to find his two small children and their favorite toys gone.
Oh my God. Plastic swords on the floor outside the house and us fully gone.
Due to being in a custody battle with one of my aunties, another long and dumb story, he didn't ring the police and instead went full-blown taken style.
Oh my God, the fear. He must have felt...
Seriously. And imagine the stress of like being in a custody battle and you're like, I can't call the police because I'll lose them.
Oh, my God. On the second day of our kidnapping, me and my brother had a discussion where we had decided something probably wasn't right as we hadn't been allowed to ring home before bed.
Oh, my God. I'm like, this is like literally hurting me.
Yeah. I'm like, oh. Something our auntie and uncle always allowed.
We had a brief whispered discussion where we decided we had practiced playing pirates enough and could take her out if we could find some swords.
And we went on a mission to find some. We didn't.
Our mission included us doing a lot of forward rolls into other rooms and walls trying to be sneaky.
I love that you're just like slithering as you're being kidnapped.
Finally, as the sun was setting on the third day, we hear a commotion outside and her front door was kicked in.
Standing in the doorway like a fucking superhero was dad.
Hell yeah. He had driven down to her town and knocked on every single door until he found us.
Holy shit. He had shown our photos around, and he had been told that we were this lady's niece and nephew who would be living with her from now on.
Someone also mentioned me on the back of a conga line, so my dad knew something was wrong then.
Dad walked into the house like the Hulk and began to scream at this woman.
During this time, my raggedy-ass self went and grabbed a couple of photos from the fireplace as I decided I looked quite pretty.
My raggedy-ass self. I love that you were like, I look good in those.
I'm going to keep them. My dad scooped us both up and put us under his arms like rugby balls and stormed out.
He didn't ask us why we didn't run away from her.
He asked us why we didn't run away from her.
And we explained that she said he had rung her, but we had big plans to kill her with the swords we didn't have.
Eventually, when we were home, he rang the police, but I don't know what happened.
When we got back, I tried to put the photo of me and my brother in the chair.
Oh, my God. In the chair on our own fireplace.
And when my dad looked at me, this was the first time I ever saw a capital uppercase question mark as a facial expression.
You were like, I look good, Dad. I look good.
He left it up. But when I went to bed, he put it in the bin outside.
However, as we lived in a bungalow, I crawled out of my bedroom window and I got it and waited for him to go back to sleep and put it back.
Oh, my God. This repeated for several nights until my dad was convinced that the house was haunted.
What the fuck? Oh, my God. I love that you were like, I look good, Dad.
What? oh my god i'm so stressed out both the photos i grabbed are now in our family photo memory box that we all look back on fondly as if we went to a nice as if we went on a nice criminal holiday it's a little damage from my dad shoving it into the bend and swearing at it to fucking fuck off i feel him a few months oh man Oh, a few months after this occurred, my dad laid down for one of his naps, doors locked.
Oh, and sadly never woke up. Oh no, what a turn.
I'll never know the full extent of his experience, but I can only imagine it was similar to a horror film.
Oh, yeah. Waking up without you guys. Yeah.
I can't even, my brain won't even let me conjure up those feelings.
And then remember, he had to drive three hours away and knock on every single door he could.
No, I'm honestly, my chest is like tight.
Like I'm feeling like actual stress. Full blown fight or flight right now.
Just thinking about that. So like, just thinking of him kicking down that door.
Iconic. It must have taken everything in him not to like, do something else because i think i would have just like lit that entire place on fire straight up i also am wondering about the other children yeah it's like are those her children and they're like why did you kidnap these kids again but it's like again like what you've kidnapped other children like what happened like what does that mean Oh, I'm so sorry about your dad.
I am too. I'll never know the full extent of his experience, but I can only imagine it was similar to a horror film.
I miss him every day and he will always be my true hero as I know he spent three days awake and put the last of his money into the car to find us.
Another side note, it's funny because when I tried to scan that photo in for you guys, it kept coming out blurry, so I can only assume that he's still salty about it all.
I bet he is. He's like, no. He's like, fuck that photo.
Sorry this is so long. I have lots of ghost stories too, which I'd love to share with you, but that's for another time.
Send it. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Listener tales usually have me laughing, crying, and screaming, no.
That's how we feel too. This story about the blue boots.
I remember that one. Oh my God, yes. That one was fucking terrifying and replays in your mind constantly.
Thanks for a great podcast and your correction bits always make me laugh because people can be so precious about stupid things.
Wow. Truth. Please don't ever stop being weird.
Love, Annie. Annie, thank you so much. And also, wow, like that's funny that we were just talking about that in the beginning.
Like people are so precious lately about everything.
They really are. And there you go. Oh my God.
Annie's on it. I love that you guys were like, yeah, we're going to be kept together in the living room.
Thank you. Take a photo of us. That is adorable.
You guys are so cute. You guys were the cutest.
And look at your adorable dad. You do look quite nice in the roller skating line.
I would have stolen that picture of myself too.
I'm sure you do. As I thought I looked quite nice.
The picture of you two in the chair, one, I'm horrified just looking at it because I'm like, wow, you were in the process of being kidnapped.
Like you were actively kidnapped at this time.
Yup. And then the conga line, I'm like, oh my God.
Like you were just roller skating with a stranger and those aren't your clothes.
I didn't even think of that. That's really distressful to me.
My favorite one is with you and your dad because that's where you're supposed to be.
Annie, I'm so sorry that that happened to you because that's really scary, but my God, do you have a great sense of humor?
Like, you made, very rarely do I laugh that hard.
It's because you're from the UK. It's true.
You guys fucking kill it with your humor.
You just get it. And you're this, you're all the same way that way, like, where you, like, how you ended it, like, oh God, like, everyone's so precious about stuff, like, who gives a shit?
And, like, so, like, self-deprecating and stuff in, like, the funniest ways.
Like, you just have great humor i love it i appreciate you guys thanks why are there ridges on risa's peanut butter cups probably so they never slip from her hands could you imagine i'd lose it luckily risa's thought about that wonder what else they think about probably chocolate and peanut butter 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.
Host Zach 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.
Bye. Bye. Bye. So this one is titled, ready?
Listener Tales. It says, hi, my name is...
Kelsey. And I'm a huge fan of the podcast.
I love your guys' listener tales and thought I would send one in.
I attached it in this email. Double space put a photo.
Of course, I hope you guys enjoy it. Maybe some young listeners or really anyone can learn a lesson from it.
Hey, there you go. Love you guys. We love a cautionary tale.
That's really nice. Oh, it does have a name.
Oh, it's called. Okay. It's in the put a photo.
That's smart. Listener tale. Don't lie to your mother.
Whoops. Which you know what? I endorse.
Don't lie to your mother. Hi, Morbid Girls.
My name is Kelsey. You can say all names.
Thank you so much, Kelsey. And let me just say I'm such a fan of you girls.
I'm such a fan of you, Kelsey. Me too. I found your podcast two years ago, and it did not take me long to get caught up.
I'm actually re-listening to all your episodes now.
Wow, that's awesome. Thank you. You girls have made my long car rides to and from college for breaks, and my days working at the animal shelter go by so quick.
Aww. People probably think I'm crazy laughing my booty off as I drive alone or scrubbing dog kennels.
As a tiny 23-year-old girl, it's a good day if people think I'm 15.
That's relatable for Elena. Yep. I have incorporated your morbid safety tips into just about everything.
Yay. I tell my mom that fresh air is for dead people when she wants to open windows at night and remind my boyfriend that we will 100% get murdered if we take a late night walk in the dark after dinner.
Truth. I wonder what it's like to not assume you're going to get murdered all the time.
Me too. Anywho, I love your listeners' tales and have always wanted to tell one of my own.
While it may not be as crazy as some other tales I've heard on the pod, it is most definitely a good lesson of why you should probably not lie to your mom for all the youths that may listen.
And just for the record, we are both a lot smarter and aware now than we were in this story.
And you're still youngin'. Hey! First, I have to give you a little background on my best friend Lauren to tell this story.
We were the type of best friends that met as little babes and were inseparable ever since.
I love that. We danced about 30 hours a week at the same studio, and we're definitely growing into sassy little teenagers.
As we all do, obviously. We were the type of friends who got kicked out of ballet for talking too much to each other or would cry laughing together at nothing just because the other's laugh was so funny.
That's cute. Honestly, me and my best friends are still like that at 36 years old.
Like, me and Linz the other day will just laugh because the other one's laughing hysterically.
Like, that just happens. One Friday night, Lauren and I thought it would be fun to pull the classic lie to our moms.
I told my mom I was sleeping at Lauren's.
And of course, Lauren told her mom she was sleeping at my house.
Oh, yeah. Something about our mothers not knowing where we were really going was so thrilling for the moment.
Since we were free agents, we decided to drive to the beach and walk around.
Literally for no other reason than we knew our moms would flip shit if they knew where we were.
Oh, and did I mention it was about 11 o'clock at night?
So we started the 20 minute drive to the beach in the pitch black.
Let me just mention I've driven to this beach hundreds of times, so I knew exactly where to go.
However, we went on a night that, of course, the town was having fireworks and random streets were blocked off.
Oh, that's the worst. Yep. We attempted to put the spot we were trying to get to into our phone GPS, but neither of our phones were getting any signal.
This was super weird. With all the streets blocked and no working navigation, I was getting all turned around in the dark.
Because why have streetlights, am I right?
No one needs to see at night, silly me. After driving around for over an hour just trying to find the damn sand, we decided to just turn around and go back to one of our houses.
I pulled into a little parking lot with a couple of cars to turn around.
I pull into a spot next to a white van. Yeah, like a little dum-dum.
By the way, I swear everything I'm saying is not made up, even though it sounds way too much like a cheesy murder movie with two stupid teenage girls.
Lauren and I sat in the car for a minute trying to get signals on our phones when I noticed a man standing behind my car.
Before I could say anything to Lauren, another man tapped on the passenger side window and motioned for Lauren to roll it down.
I said out loud, do not open that window.
So, of course, Lauren opened that window.
Again, I promise the both of us are much smarter now.
The man proceeded to say that he needed help since his car wouldn't start.
I'm sorry, but this creepy grown man did not need the help of two teenage girls to get his car working.
That's right. He did not. I told him sorry, we can't help him and we were actually about to leave.
The man was not taking no for an answer.
He said he just needed someone to hold a flashlight while he worked under the hood of his car.
Why couldn't the man standing behind my car hold the flashlight for him, I wondered.
I kept repeating no over and over and the man started to get more and more agitated.
Oh, my God. He called us so many names that I do not care to repeat.
The man behind my car started to move to the driver's side now, too, which I took as the, thank you, as the perfect opportunity to skirt the fuck out of there.
I was just going to say, get out now. Bye.
The man got to his car and started it right away.
Oh, God. However, he did not chase after us.
I drove over a curb with my leg shaking uncontrollably and Lauren could not even speak.
Yeah. Yeah. And that he didn't chase after you.
Exactly. He was just waiting for someone to accept it.
Yep. Like he was waiting for the next one.
That's so scary. Both of our moms thought we were safe and sound at each other's houses.
No one knew we were going to the beach that night and no one had our phone locations.
I was currently in a battle with my mom about how she didn't need to track my phone and should trust me.
Ironic, huh? Yeah. So we easily could have just disappeared into the night and no one would even know where to look.
Hey! It is. It is. Maybe it could teach some teenage listeners to be smarter than Lauren and I were.
And even though it may seem fun, don't lie to your mom.
Sorry if this was a boring tale. It absolutely was not.
It was terrifying. It was not. And I completely understand if you don't read it.
We read it. I would freak out if you do, though.
Freak out. Freak out. Keep being weird and keep killing it in the podcast game.
Oh, and keep it weird, but not so weird that you think you're hot teenage shit and lie to your moms about where you are and then almost get kidnapped and murdered by a creepy beach man who tries to convince you that you can help him start his car.
That started perfectly fine when you yeeted the fuck away from him.
Yeah. Not that weird. Never that weird.
Wow. That was scary. Kelsey, that was a scary one.
And I know like what you're saying, it wasn't like this wild ghost story or something.
That was terrifying. Yeah. Thinking about that man, like being that close to you and the fact that they were lying in wait.
I don't like it at all. Like started that car ride up.
So there, you know, they were lying in wait.
Yeah. They were probably just going to get the next person.
And there's something scary about the fact that they didn't follow you.
Yeah. I don't know what it is. It's like... Yeah, no, you're right.
Because they weren't willing to go that extra mile.
They were hoping a victim would come to them.
That's what it is. They were waiting there for a victim to come to them.
Yep. And that's like somehow scarier. I don't know why.
Yeah. Because it makes your mind think of like what the next part of the plan was.
Yeah, exactly. That's the scary thing. But honestly, that is a good lesson.
It is. Don't lie to your mom. That whole, I'm sleeping at this person's house and they're sleeping here.
It's never worth it. I did it before. Yeah, we all have.
But it is so stupid to do. Like, just don't do it.
And nine out of ten times your mom or the other person's mom is going to find out.
Yeah, it's true. Because, like, I have already said, I'm like, I'm just going to be like a pain in the ass mom.
Oh, yeah. Like, they're going to... But it's like, just don't.
Because when shit happens, like anything can happen.
And it doesn't mean like some creep is going to come out of the woods and try to kidnap you or they're going to try to throw you in a white van.
But what if you get hurt? That can happen.
But again, yeah. What if you get hurt? What if you get sick?
What if something weird happens? What if you get hit by a car?
Yeah. What if something like shit can happen in an instant and no one will know where you are?
Exactly. And it's like, don't risk it. It's just not worth it.
It's not worth it at all. Yeah. It's really not.
But we've all done it. And your parents aren't saying no to be dicks most of the time.
They're saying no because they want to keep you safe.
Exactly. So just try to keep it in mind.
But again, we've all done it. I was going to say, this is the thing I always say.
Like when I have kids, I'm just going to have to like lie to them so much.
And don't listen to this, future children.
Because I'm like, oh, God, like even saying that, I'm like, who am I to say that?
Honestly, though, I think the better thing to do is just be honest with them and be like, I got lessons learned because I did it.
I think because honestly, like I think if Ma told me, you know what, I did that once and here's how it ended up.
And this is why I'm telling you not to do it.
It would sink in more. But then you're worried that you have one of those defiant kids that's like, well, you didn't.
Yeah, that's true. But if you can sit there and be like, and here's the outcome of it.
Yeah. It didn't turn out well. And this is the reason why I'm telling you not to do it.
I'm not trying to just be a killjoy. You know?
Yeah. Certain stories have to remain unlocked, you know?
I mean, yeah, like certain ones. Certain ones I'm going to be like, uh.
We're not going to reveal all to the kids, but.
Yeah. I think there's something to be said about being honest with your kids.
Totally. I think they appreciate it later.
Totally. You know? You know? The next listener tale is, I have a catchy headline, but I don't want to ruin the surprise of this tale, so this is all you get.
All right, I'm in. That was clever. I'm in.
I like it. Hello, hello. Attached, you will find a double-spaced putt-a-fa.
As I typed it, I read it out loud, like putt-a-fa, and truly enjoy saying it like that.
I, too, like to say abbreviated words as real words and find it quite funny, like BBQ is pronounced bub-a-ka and DNA is pronounced da-na.
Oh, my God. We say that. We say da-na. Amazing.
I love that. I'm going to start saying bub-a-ka.
Da-na. Bub-a-ka. No, it must be kwa. Bub-a-kwa.
Thank you so much for the work and dedication you put into your podcast.
Y'all are so funny and real. You're truly amazing.
Thank you. I'm blushing. I listen to other true crime podcasts that are good, don't get me wrong, but in my opinion are not as entertaining and do not go in depth as much as you do.
Thanks. Keep it up, and I am so happy to hear all the good that comes into each of your lives and send positive thoughts your way when trouble hits your lives.
Oh, man. You are the kindest. That's really nice.
I would like to keep my name out of this.
Okie dokie. Thank you for telling me. And didn't include any in the story just because it isn't my story, but one I heard from somebody else, and I'm not sure how willing they are to have this tale out there under their name.
Thank you for doing that. From Anonymous.
Anonymous. Hip hop anonymous. There you go.
Hello, wonderful ladies. I recently submitted another listener tale that happened to me a few years ago.
But this is a new story and it just came about a few days ago for me writing this.
And I didn't care if it seemed like a crazy girl emailing back to back.
It's too good not to share. You're never crazy for writing back to back.
But I do want to say, you're crazy, girl.
You're crazy. But you're not. You're crazy, girl.
This tale takes place in a quaint little country town in bumfuck nowhere, or Bofu for short.
There you go. Our lovely town has about a thousand people, no stoplights, a Casey's, of course, and one restaurant.
I don't know what a Casey's is. I was literally turning my head to ask if you knew what a Casey's was.
To some, it may sound boring, and I hear way too often, well, what the fuck do you do there?
I always say like true country folk, we like to fill our time doing all sorts of activities outdoors and drink beer.
There you go. In the winter months, it's watch TV, read a book, nap, and drink a beer.
The simple life. The main component to everything we do, though, is that we always are spending time with the people we love and creating strong bonds for life.
Oh. Oh, that's lovely. That's beautiful.
That's what it should be all about. Hell yeah.
So when there is nothing to do at all in our sleepy little town, you at least have someone to do nothing with.
Oh, that's the best. That's so cute. You should write your town's motto.
Yeah. And let's be honest, the wildest things happen when you're bored with your friends, a few brewskis to be drank, and only one part-time pop in town.
Yep, that is true. Now that the scene is set, the scene actually has nothing to do with the story.
Just got to set it though, you know? Oh, I know.
Ash just saying you would drown in the small town teapot and swim happily amongst the tea leaves.
You already know. You already know. Oh, I love the tea.
I'm such a gossip. I think that's like a Gemini quality.
It is. I feel like it definitely is. Totally.
Now, my boyfriend's dad is a smoker and decided to step outside for a smoke break.
As he is walking out the door, my boyfriend's mom goes, oh, don't forget to tell them what you found at work the other day.
With the door half open and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he most casually goes...
Oh, yeah, we found a dead body in the ditch.
Oh. And just walks out the fucking door.
Oh, wow. I was about ready to sprint after him, rip that ciggy out of his mouth, and go full cop mode, demanding he step back inside and spill everything in this instance.
Wow. I can't wait five minutes to hear this.
And we've been sitting here 30 minutes discussing why Barb is on her third baby daddy and why Kathy raised the price of her homegrown tomatoes to 30 cents while he's just marinating on this hot gossip.
Side note to my above statement about what we do in a small town.
Gossip is for sure number one. It's all in a strange kind of love, though.
Of course. Like a giant extended family where you want to know all the dirty deets, but you are also planning in your head a way to help them through their troubles with the best intentions.
Aww. I love that. Look at that. You know what's weird?
I could feel that vibe. Me too. Before you even said it.
I wasn't like, oh my God, they're gossiping.
I was like. No. I feel like this is all because they're like, you know what?
What's going on with Kathy? Yeah. Like what's going on here?
Does she need some help? Is that why she raised her 30 cents up tomatoes?
I don't know what I'm saying. Anywho, he comes back inside with myself and my boyfriend ready to hear this shit.
Time to talk, mister. So my boyfriend's dad works for the county and oversees the roads, such as mowing the ditches along the road and trash cleanup, to name a couple.
One day, he had to be out of town to assist a neighboring county with a paint job and left his guys to mow the ditches.
After about an hour into the workday, his guys call him up and tell him, uh, I don't know how to say this, but we had to stop the mower to move a large blue tarp in the ditch and, uh, There's a dead body.
There's a woman's dead body under the tarp.
Oh, that's how you say that. That is the only way to say that.
Apparently, they came across this tarp and upon walking up to it, saw two feet sticking out, an arm with feminine features and painted nails. and they could see a neck sticking out without a freaking head.
Not just a deceased woman, but a decapitated deceased woman.
Oh, boy. Hopefully not a non-deceased decapitated woman.
This listener tale would come in more as a warning to you East Coast folks.
We got zombies coming for you from the Central Straits, so get your nail-spiked bats ready.
Thank you for telling us that you would give us that warning.
I appreciate it. Thank you so much. Naturally, my boyfriend's dad asked if they called the police yet.
They said no. Gotta let the boss know first, apparently.
And then they called 911 to report a dead body.
The local police showed up, looked at the lady, and confirmed that this was, in fact, a dead body.
Oh, boy. I'd be like, wow, thank you. Thank you for that.
They then called out the local coroner to the scene, who also confirmed that they were looking at a dead body.
All right, we got double layers here. Well, now apparently they were unable to touch the body or further inspect it and had to wait for CSI to arrive to do the initial investigation.
While they were standing there waiting, new trucks began to pile around.
News trucks. News trucks, thank you. Brand new trucks.
We love new trucks around here. News trucks began to pile around and the roads were beginning to shut down in the area.
Another interesting thing the workers who found the body said was there was no smell.
The body clearly looked like it had been there for some time, and it looked like it had started to decay.
My boyfriend's dad said they worked with a lot of dead deer that had been hit by a car on the side of the road, and a lot of times you don't smell it at all until it's moved, so they figured the same case here.
Wow. A little while later, my boyfriend's dad said he got an update call from his workers who found the body.
They called him up and said, yeah, CSI arrived, and they were able to identify the body.
He said back, what? Identify? Did they find the head?
Did she have a name tag on? Her wallet was there?
How do they already know who it is? Wow.
He asked a lot of questions. They said back, well, no, none of that.
We don't know if she had a name, but it's not a dead body.
Oh, no. They actually started to touch it and inspect it and found it to be a sex doll.
Stop it. That's right. This dead lady was a couple thousand.
Oh my God. This dead lady was a couple thousand some dollar sex doll that was dumped on the side of the road.
This fucking thing fooled roadside cleanup, the local police, and the local coroner.
I was just going to say the local coroner has something to answer to.
Who in their defense, of course, weren't able to get close enough to it to inspect it yet.
That this was a real woman. Damn, that must have been a very realistic sex doll.
Well, they said a couple thousand dollars.
I was going to say, there you go. So if you want proof sex toys, I've got them. so if you want proof that sex toys have gotten way of hand in their realism this is the story for you this is out of hand now somehow the local news did not get a hold of this or were somehow convinced to not leak it since it was considered trash too the roadside cleanup had to dispose of this thing they decided to put it in their dumpster at work and my boyfriend's dad being the smarty pants he is took the liberty of calling the local trash pickup company oh my god no this thing looks real as fuck, but is in fact a sex doll.
He's like, just to warn you. They also called the dump to let them know when a headless body comes out of the truck, don't worry, it's fake, and please God, don't touch it.
It's probably been put to use a few too many times.
I'm leaving. It's headless. What is that about?
That's a problem. Like, that's a whole other layer of like, huh?
Yeah, that's just like too much for my brain to think about.
By this point, we're cracking up and coming up with stories on how this could have happened.
Did his wife find it and make him get rid of it?
Was he one of those guys who thinks their doll is a real person and murdered his wife?
Oh my god. Did she go flying out of the bed of his truck and when he got back home, he was broken that his love flew away?
Was she actually alive like a sentient robot thing and killed herself to get away from a sweaty, stinky man who didn't treat her right?
We will never know. We will never know. We did all come to the conclusion, though, that they could at least have tried to pull some DNA samples.
Oh, DNA, excuse me, DNA samples. Insert gag.
To find the dude and at least charge him with a littering fine.
Yeah. Or better yet, find his home and put the sex doll sitting in the kitchen with a sign around her neck saying, I'm back, whatever his name is.
You can't get rid of me that easily. Oh, my God.
I wish that was able to be done. Legendary.
Imagine. Just to give him a little fright for all the freaking drama he caused that day.
But who are we kidding? We love the drama of it all.
Because he dumped it in a ditch under a tarp.
It's like, you know, people are going to think that's a real dead body.
Maybe that's why he did it. That's what I mean.
Like, that's really fucked up. Yeah, that's a weird thing to do.
So, ladies, remember to keep it weird, but not so weird that you dispose of your headless sex doll on the side of the road and confuse roadside clean up the police in the corner that it's a real dead lady.
Oh, my God. I love it. This was a phenomenal tale.
That was a really, really good one. That was great.
That just made me lol so hard that motherfuckers wanted to find me.
Anonymous, that was wonderful. anonymous thank you for sending that also your family and your boyfriend's family sound hilarious yeah they do and your town sounds like delightful i know i really love that like like that just sounded nice so i was like yeah yeah like i want to talk to you guys and hang out with you guys i want to hear your tea you're right i want to hear your tea if i was sitting in that kitchen i would have been like writing shit down i would have been all over that like white on rice oh yeah She would have been all over it.
Yep. All right, let's see. We're just vamping a little bit right now because we're transporting this into a doc.
I was trying to copy and paste it into a document, but here we are.
Here we are. This one, and it's probably the last one we'll do, is how I learned that keeping a corpse in your closet isn't normal.
Hmm. Everybody should learn that lesson at one point in their life, right?
Interesting. Interesting thing to learn, you know?
Yeah, one might say. All right, here we are.
Hi, Elena and Ash. I absolutely adore your podcast.
For my listener tale, I'd like to share a tidbit about my hometown.
Growing up, this seemed super normal, and it wasn't until I moved to New Hampshire, and hey, New Hampshire, and mentioned Speedy to my coworkers that I realized my hometown isn't exactly average.
I grew up in a small Kentucky town. For reference, it's about halfway... I love that this is like small town tales.
I know, right? For reference, it's about halfway between Possum Trot and Monkey's Eyebrow.
All right. Obviously, with that cosmopolitan frame of reference, everyone should know exactly where I'm referencing, lol.
I stand by my belief that you should have to have a passport in order to travel south of the Mason-Dixon line.
And this story firmly supports that conclusion.
Oh my God, I'm dying. Picture it. It's the 1920s and somewhere in Egypt, nosy white people are cracking open the Great Pyramids and wrecking everybody else's peace.
Interest in all things Egyptian has hit a fevered pitch.
Fun fact, back when people used to ingest mummy powder, literally, excuse me, back then people used to ingest mummy powder, literal crushed mummy for health.
That's not healthy. That's fucked up. Inspired by the incredibly well-preserved mummies that seem to be appearing daily in the local newspaper, a funeral director in our sleepy Kentucky town decided to try his hand at long-term corpse storage.
Uh-oh. Oh, no. Uh-oh. Armed with what I can only imagine was his own version of KFC's famed 11 herbs and spices...
He set about finding the perfect recipe for eternal preservation.
But alas, he had no way of testing it. That was.
Until a local man nicknamed Speedy drowned in the Ohio River.
R.I.P. Speedy. Legend has it that with no close kin to claim his body, Speedy was slated to be buried in a pauper's grave.
Now, to save dear Speedy from this sad fate, the funeral director did what anyone would have done, eye roll, and promptly called dibs on the body.
Because, of course. I don't know if you can call dibs on a whole ass bod.
Sounds like this guy did. Well, to the funeral director's great joy, his special formula worked and Speedy's body was transformed from a typical mushy mortal vessel to a statuesque form resembling wood with a reddish hue.
Now, as horrifying as this sounds, the good director did keep things classy and dressed Dear Speedy in a nice tuxedo.
This is so weird. Apparently, the line between desecration of a corpse and scientific achievement is a trip to men's warehouse.
I guess so. He was towing that damn line.
As the kids would say, the director opted to keep it Gucci.
I am... Done. I love you. The director opted to keep it Gucci.
I love it. Now, the director couldn't just leave dear Speedy in his facility.
No, that would be terribly disrespectful.
So instead, he carefully transported Speedy to his home and propped him up in his bedroom closet.
Yes, that is not disrespectful. Right next to the Mrs. Good Church clothes.
Word quickly got round town of the director's prolific achievement, and before he knew it, curious townsfolk began dropping by for a peep at old Speedy.
Oh my god. The director would happily oblige and run to his closet to fetch him out.
Before long, Speedy became an unexpected source of town pride.
He became the guest of honor at all of our town events.
No. Shut the fuck up. No, the next sentence.
No, the next second. Stop it. It became a cherished part of every child's fourth grade year to take the school sponsored pilgrimage to the director's home and get their picture taken with dear old Speedy tux and all.
I am at a loss for words. Loss. I didn't even know.
In fact, Speedy even became a national point of intrigue and made appearances on such 80s hit TV shows as Sally, Jesse, Raphael, and Ripley's Believe It or Not.
I never even heard of this. Pictures of Speedy still grace many of the town's publications and, of course, live forever on the internet.
Oh, my God. Fast forward to the 1990s. The director passes away, oddly enough, without enduring the same mummification process that made him a town hero.
Huh. Mrs. Director took this as the opportunity to do what one can only assume had been her goal for the past 69 years.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh, my God.
Until I moved, I genuinely had no idea how strange this story was.
Right? It never occurred to me that other towns simply don't have their own celebrity corps.
While this quote-unquote cultural divide between New Hampshire and my hometown has made making friends a little tougher than anticipated, my co-workers have earnestly assured me that this tidbit about my upbringing, quote, explains a lot.
Luckily, I don't think they hold it against me.
I guess Kentucky truly does keep it weird.
You certainly took the cake for that right there.
And it's Jen. Jen, that is amazing. Wowie kazowie to that.
That is amazing. That's fucking great. Wow.
I am... I am just, I don't even know what to say.
Yeah. I don't even know what to say. Yeah.
I don't, I don't know. That's something.
Wow. You guys were funny as fuck today. You're always funny as fuck, but I don't know.
It was something about today. Yeah. You guys are just the best.
You guys are funny as hell. Oh my God. These are, these are like brought to you by you, for you, from you and all about you, but also for us.
Yeah. It's true. I gotta fit that in there somewhere.
I love Listener Tales. Listener Tales keeps me breathing.
Oh, it's a highlight of the week. And the fact that we get to do it every week now, it brings us to a place of lol, a place of shock.
A place of happy. Everything. And we appreciate you.
A place of whoa. A place of whoa. A place of oh my god, whoa.
So thanks, guys. And keep sending them in.
And we hope that you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird.
Weird. Oh, you did it. Tricked you. Oh, that was scary.
I'm thrown off. Bye. Bye. Bye. 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.
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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.
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