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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.
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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.
Hey weirdos, I'm Ash. And I'm Alayna. And this is Morbid.
🎵 Hello, hello, Clarice. We're here. And it's a listener tale, which means that it's brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you.
And I am half awake because my youngest has decided to go into a complete sleep, what is it called, a reversion?
Yeah, I don't know. I don't know which way is up or down or left or right, or I don't even know if I'm here right now.
You are, I see you. This could be a dream.
It's not. So I'm awake. Unfortunate. Yes.
But not unfortunately, because this is Listener Tales.
Thank goodness this is Listener Tales, because this is going to bring the punchiness.
Punchiness. Are you okay? I'm not. I'm not.
The answer is no. I'll tell you how I'm doing.
Not well, bitch. But you know what? This will bring the punchiness out.
It already is. Look at it. It already started.
I got you. Here it is. We're here. We're going to talk about some college stories.
Yeah. There's murder. There's ghosts. There's back rubs.
Back rubs at 3 a.m. There's dwellings and dwellers.
There's all kinds of shit in here. There's also muffins from hell.
I was just going to say. Wow. Glass muffin.
Glass. Blood muffin. Poison berry. Tell me you were born in a specific decade without telling me.
Do you want to start this lovely installment or shall I?
I think it's good that you start because we got to keep that brain going.
We got to keep it going. If I stop too long, I might nod off.
So let's go. Can't stop, won't stop, get guac.
So the first one we have here is my BFF in college was a whole ass ghost.
Oh. Damn. All right. Here we go. It says, hey, weirdos, my name is, yes, you can use it, Emily.
Emily. I like how you spell it. There's an E before the Y. Ooh.
I like that. That is pretty. I've been listening since the start.
Thanks to a friend of a friend who introduced me to y'all while driving to a bachelorette party.
Thanks, Lauren. Is Lauren the ghost? Oh, let me say that you two are the bright spot in my day.
And I can't wait to silence all the calls.
I never answer anyways to listen to the newest episode drop the same.
But congrats on your book, Elena. Thank you.
And congrats on your engagement. Upcoming wedding, Ash.
Thank you. So happy for y'all. But enough about my love for y'all because I could go on all day.
LOL. Also trigger warning. This story has mentions of suicide.
Thank you for that. Yeah, thank you. But thank you for being weird and making your listeners' lives better by being your genuine selves.
I fucking love you. Attached is a putt-a-fuff for your reading pleasure.
It's about a six-minute read. Wow, look at you guys.
I love when you guys do that. I apologize in advance if it seems all over the place since I'm a weirdo and never like to omit details.
Oh, a gal after my own heart. I was going to say.
Love you, awesome lady, so much. I love you, awesome lady.
Me too. Back in college, I lived in an old-ass house that was once the president's of the university.
Ooh, that's really cool. It was built in the late 1800s, and it was old with lots of noises and creaks.
I had a few roommates over the years, and we all just assumed it was because the house was old.
We were wrong. Often. The first thing that really caught our attention was the cold spots in the house and how doors would weirdly open by themselves.
Fans and lights turned on amongst other things.
Unless it was a private door, all common space doors needed to stay opened or else they would just open.
After one roommate moved out and the new one moved in, we noticed that the bar in her closet was bent in the middle, making it hard to store clothes in there.
She just bought a portable clothes rack thinking the old roommate just had some heavy coats since the winters get pretty brutal up here in Pennsylvania.
I ran cross country while in college, so I was good friends with a lot of other athletes on the other sports teams.
I don't remember how it came up, but I was talking to someone on the soccer team and mentioning how our house might be haunted due to all the weird occurrences that happen.
Her eyes got wide and she asked where I lived.
I described the house and the location and I could tell her heart just sank.
Trigger warning. A few days go by and she wasn't showing up for class or practice, so everyone started to get really worried.
A few of her teammates showed up at the house, the one I currently am renting, to check up on their friend.
The roommates at the time let her in and said they hadn't seen or heard from their roommate in a few days.
The girls go upstairs to find her door locked.
They went next door to the landlord to have him help open the door to check on her.
Once the landlord helped open the door, they found their friend hanging from the bar in the closet.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. And that's why the bar was bent.
Exactly. And now I just can't imagine finding your friend like that.
Like, honestly, my entire body just like, oh, my God.
Oh my God, I love you guys. Okay. You are all wonderful souls.
Truly wonderful. Once we finished, there was this weird calming sensation that kind of came over me.
I don't know how to describe it, but it just felt right.
A majority of my roommates were in a sorority, and the one that wasn't was always away with her boyfriend on weekends.
Since I ran cross country and track, I was usually gone on the weekends at track meets or getting home hella late from the track meets.
If I was home, my sorority roomies were usually out at mixers or parties.
Since they've woken me up at early hours of the morning previously to let them in the house, this particular evening I decided to just leave the front door unlocked.
I know, I know. But I was a grandma in college.
LOL, I still am a grandma. And wanted to sleep.
I feel that. Dangerous. So I texted them all since I was the only one at the house to let them know since I was already snuggled up in the blankets ready to go to bed.
They pretty much all responded and said they were at their parents' house or with their significant other so they weren't coming back.
When I say my stomach hit the floor, my stomach hit the floor.
That meant my pussy ass would have to get out of bed, run through the dark house to lock the door, and run back to my room.
In the dark. Nope. It's weird. I love true crime, but scary stuff is a no-go, my dude.
I can't watch horror or scary movies without being able to shower or sleep normally for the next seven years.
Honestly, I'm still that way. I watched The Grudge at a sleepover in the seventh grade and my sister had to stay in the bathroom with me while I showered because I was horrible.
So I did what any girl would do. I snuggled up extra tight under the blankets because obviously these plush blankets would protect me if any monsters tried to come in.
Accurate. Not any girl because I am a Fort Knox kind of gal and I would brave it and go lock all those doors.
I would absolutely brave it and go lock those doors.
I could not sit. But that's just me and my paranoia.
Vulneroses. I could not sit up in bed with the door unlocked.
No, I have home invasion dreams constantly.
Well, and I always have my doors locked.
Oh, yeah. I never have my doors unlocked.
Even when I'm home, in the middle of the day.
Which is a good practice to get in everybody.
And I have multiple locks on all of my doors.
Yeah, like there's four knocks up in here.
After I fell asleep under the eight plush blankets on my bed, I woke up to the sun rising through the windows.
Beautiful. As I groggily get out of bed, I go to open the door to go pee, and it won't open.
What the fuck? I think as I try to jiggle it open.
Nope. Nothing. It won't open. I don't like that.
Since the house was old, the lock was a little weird sliding button under the doorknob.
After attempting multiple jiggles, I noticed the door was locked.
What? I was the only one here. After I unlock it, I do my business and come back to my room.
It hit me that the front door was still unlocked, so I went to lock it and see that it's locked.
At this point, I'm a little confused because I was the only one there that night.
Then it hit me. My ghost bestie locked the door for me because she knew I was terrified.
I thanked her and again, this ridiculous calming sensation washed over me.
At this point on, I knew my ghostie and I were BFFs.
Literally, you are. I love that that's the first thing you thought of because I'm going to Capricorn this right up for you real fast.
My immediate thought would be someone broke into this house, they locked the door behind them because they forgot or they wanted to make it just look like there was no forced entry.
Yeah. So I would be out of that house like lickety split.
Yeah. Well, maybe this listener like searched around first.
Oh, yeah. No. I would much rather... think the other way.
Oh, yeah. But my harsh ass won't think anything less than there is another human in this house.
I don't even think that's just, like, Capricorn thinking.
I think that's just, like, true crime thinking.
That's just true crime-y thinking. I would be so fucking terrified.
When you talk about, like, brutal, brutal cases for day in and day out, like, for four years, like, is that where we're at right now?
Who knows? Yeah, like... Yeah. That's your first response.
Your mind goes to a certain place. I love that you were like, they would do that so it didn't look like forced entry.
Yeah. Yeah. That's exactly what it would be.
But you know what? It was your ghost, Bestie.
I wonder how... She was trying to protect you.
Yes. Yes. I wonder how often that happens.
Yeah. That like they figure out a different way to go out.
Yeah. So that it doesn't look like there was forced entry.
Why is my mind never thought of that? Like if it's one of those little clicky locks that like you can just like turn the knob and then close the door and it's locked.
Yeah. Wow. I'm just saying. Wowie kazowie.
Which is why you should have multiple locks on your door.
Don't just rely on that one little lock because it's a little wily creature, that little lock.
And they can also go boop and they can open that door.
I've seen it on TikTok. And remember. Deadbolt.
Ma, my ma, your mom. You could open her door with a credit card.
Yeah, like doors are pretty easy to open.
So you got to make sure you have several locks.
Get a deadbolt. Get a door guardian. Yeah.
If you're in an apartment, still get a door guardian.
Fuck that. Your safety is priority. Oh, yeah.
We added multiple locks. They can't tell you that you can't.
Yeah, no. It's safety. Fucking lock. And also like your security deposit isn't worth it over your safety.
Worth your safety. Over your safety. Exactly.
Drew got us like some hotel extra lock things.
Yeah. Yeah. The little thing that you can put in the door to make it so it can't open?
Yeah, he got a couple other things, too, for an upcoming trip.
There's a lot of gadgets. Oh, yeah. That you can get.
I love a gadget. Yeah, and there's also, there's a TikTok account.
Yeah, you gotta shout this man's out. I gotta shout him because I'm a real fan of this guy.
He's got a very soothing voice. I think he has a podcast now, too, which I'm like, good for him.
He should. Because his voice is lovely. He's very knowledgeable.
Yeah, he is. He's a very knowledgeable guy.
And he's like a former investigator, and he specialized in like crimes against children, I think.
Oh, shit. So he's got a lot of insight into certain things.
He's been talking about the Idaho case a lot, and he gives really good insight.
He doesn't speculate. He doesn't theorize.
I love that. He just gives you what he sees from the facts, what is out, and he says, this is what I would say is proud.
It's not like a wild speculation kind of thing.
He doesn't blame people. No. He just looks at the facts.
So his TikTok name is purepower34, which is even better.
I love that. Pure power, baby. Pure power.
But I think you can find him under Killer Bee, B-E-E, Tactical.
And he also teaches on his account ways, like self-defense techniques.
Hell yeah. He has an Amazon store where he puts those kind of locks that you can add to your doors and stuff in there.
Love. So like... Go in there and check it out.
Shoot that man's a follow. Yeah, he's very knowledgeable.
And I haven't listened to his podcast yet.
And I think it's, I'm fairly certain it's new, but I want to listen to it because I think he has a very soothing voice and he's very knowledgeable.
So that's all I know about him is that he has a good page.
Go check it out. So yeah, Killer Bee Tactical.
Obviously, the weird occurrences kept happening, but we knew it was my ghost bestie and always invited her to have dinner with us or watch the occasional Disney movie with us.
You guys are so pure. I love it. One night after my school hosted a cross-country invitational, my mom decided to stay with me since all my roomies were not going to be there.
Since it was a college house and we didn't have a guest room, my mom had the couch for the night.
You didn't give her your bed? After we hung out, it was time for bed.
She mentioned that the door in the kitchen was freaking her out and needed to be shut.
Mind you, I grew up with super strict Christian parents.
Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, and middle school dances were what sinners did.
So I never got to partake. Britney Spears?
Also, ghosts didn't exist to her. So there was a staircase that started at the bottom of the dining room that led upstairs that you could see from the living room that had a door on it.
I was like, no, mom, that door stays open.
My ghost bestie likes free range of the house.
I love that you were just like, this is the way it is.
My mom was like, yeah, right, ghosts don't exist.
And I'm like, nah, mom, my ghost bestie is for real.
So my mom does what she wants and goes and closes the door.
I'm like, I wouldn't if I were you. She says she'll be fine.
And we say goodnight. About five minutes later, you hear creak.
The door opens. My mom is like, Em, was that you?
And I'm like, no, mom, I'm just trying to go to bed.
I told you my ghost bestie doesn't like the door shut.
Just keep it open. she listens for about 2.4 seconds then decides to shut it again I stop fighting with her as she heads back into the kitchen she puts a chair in front of the door and comes back to the living room and she starts to tell me what she did you literally as she starts to tell me what she did you literally can hear the chair being pushed along the floor and the door slamming open the ghost is like I like my fucking door open like ghosts exist I am real my mom literally noped her way out of the living room and straight into my bed needless to say she now believes in ghosts and we shared my bed that night lol not long after i graduated and i moved out to this day i still think about my ghost bestie and hope the new tenants invite her to have some ice cream and movie dates with them an amazing soul gone too soon but it's comforting to know she had a welcomed spot in the house when we were there I love that.
So that's my tale. If y'all read this, I will literally roll down my windows at the red lights I stop at and tell people around me to listen to it.
Start rolling down that window. I love it.
I love you ladies so much and keep being weird, but not so weird that your ghost bestie has to let your strict mom know that ghosts do exist and one is your daughter's BFF.
Bye. Oh my God. That is hilarious. I love that that's what it took for your mom to, she was like, well.
She was like, you know what? Yeah. Changed.
She's like, changed. Changed woman right here.
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Well, this person's also pretty changed forever.
I think most of these people are going to be.
It says, how a home invader just wanting to give 3 a.m. back rubs almost got yeeted straight to hell.
Yeah. Okay. Yep. This is from Gary. It says, hello, my name is Gary.
Feel free to use it. I have attached for you a double-spaced putt-a-fuh, however you spell that.
That's exactly how. For your reading pleasure.
It's about a six-minute read, same as the last one.
I love that. So you should have plenty of time for your other spooky tales.
Gary and Laura, my wife, and Aspen, our seven-year-old Belgian Malinois.
Malinois. I don't know how to spell them.
Malinois. Let's, yeah, I don't know. Malinois, I'm going to say.
Dogs, I think. Like Illinois. Yeah. Okay.
Hey, weirdos. My wife, Laura, and I are sitting here listening to one of your episodes while ignoring the rest of the shit heap that has been 2020, 2021.
Oh, and most of 2022. Oh, felt. Yeah, felt that so hard.
We just bought a house. Congratulations.
That's awesome. So hopefully if you read this.
I know. That's like huge. If you read this, we'll be listening while knee deep in Home Depot boxes and packing tape.
Hell yeah. I hope you are. I hope actually you're done with that and you're sitting on your cozy couch drinking a nice cup of whatever you like to drink and just listening.
I want that cozy moment for you guys. I wanted to share my tale of how an unsuspecting home invader just wanting to share the joy of a good 3 a.m. back rub almost got himself yeeted straight into the bowels of hell.
Feel free to use my name and my wife's name, Gary and Laura.
Everybody else's has been changed. We'll both shit bricks if you read our story.
Gary and Laura! Gary and Laura, Laura and Gary.
I hope the bricks didn't hurt. That would be so painful.
So let's get in our way back machine. Glad I kept those 4D batteries around.
Hell yeah. Take a trip back to 2013. I'm living in Boone, North Carolina, finishing my bachelor's degree at Appalachian.
Oh, you gave it to us. State University.
Like, I'm going to throw an apple at you if you say it wrong.
I lived there. I'm from there. I know how to say it.
I will die on this hill. Don't at me. No, you know what?
If you're from there and live there, then Appalachian it is.
I'll never say it the other way. Appalachian, Appalachian.
I might say it the other way, but I will think of you.
Well, I have a really terrible memory, so it's also possible that I will, but don't at me.
But I won't mean to. But me either. I will try to think of you, Gare.
And lore. Garen lore. La-di-da. I'm finishing my last year of my five-year bachelor's degree because I can't finish anything on time.
Just ask my wife. Lore. This period of time, like most folks, was a complete drunken shit show.
Hooray for college, strong livers, bad decisions, and somehow still managing to survive.
I will drink to that. I'm living in a rented house about a mile from campus and the four or five bars situated in this rather sleepy mountain town.
The setting of the house is important to the story.
Why are you laughing at me? Because you were just like, um.
Um. I think I like caught you're tired.
You like sucked my energy and I got kind of tired.
I think it did. It changed because all of a sudden you were just like, well, I'm an empath.
It was like you just whirred down. Yeah.
It's the empath in me. What can I say? I had to take your sadness, not sadness.
Oh my God, my tiredness. You really did.
I did. Yeah. All of a sudden I feel very tired.
Because I'm like here. I'm like, let's go.
Let's read some listener tales. I went to bed at 1130 last night, not 10. oh big difference from so you get it i know you're like i didn't go to bed last night i slept for 48 minutes i think that's you welcomed that shit though you had kids whoa you know look at look at this you know what i mean look at this person blaming me All right.
Anyways, the setting of the house is important to the story, so bear with me.
It's a five-bedroom house with three college girls living upstairs.
Mary, Melody, and Brittany live upstairs, and my roommate Chad and I are living in the basement.
Yes, the basement. And yes, Chad. Of course, Chad.
Your roommate Chad. I guess that name was changed to Chad, which I love.
But it was perfect. Chad, Brad, and Thad.
Yeah. It's underground on three walls and was very poorly renovated, so the shitbag landlord could extract more rent from some poorer college students.
Hell is old this time. Oh, yeah. I had so many friends that lived in, like, basements, quote-unquote.
Quote-unquote basement apartments, quote-unquote.
I'm like, I don't know what this is. I think this is a small cave you live in.
Looking into the basement living area through the front and only door, the living room is to your right, with my bedroom further past that.
I can see that. Yep. My bedroom is about a 10 by 10 foot box with a quote unquote closet in the back that really just holds a giant, smelly, environmentally murdering diesel furnace that does a feeble at best job of keeping this brick shit house warm.
Damn. That's some times. That's some times.
Honestly, lighting it on fire would have been the best way to stave off hypothermia.
This furnace is right behind the headboard of my bed and has an awkward little window, the kind that's just above ground level and is like six feet high on the inside.
If you're looking at the furnace, the staircase coming downstairs is on my left-hand side behind the wall and my bedroom door is behind you.
Okay. This story occurred sometime in the spring of 2013 because I moved shortly thereafter when the lease ended.
After a heavy night of drinking, it was probably a Tuesday, and we wanted to test our liver strengths for no reason.
Hashtag college. I'm laying in my bed, dead ass asleep.
My roommate Chad is asleep, I suppose, but who the fuck knows what he does in his free time.
Yeah. In the other room downstairs. Note, cell service doesn't travel through dirt and mud and cement walls, so I can send iMessages on my iPhone.
Go Steve Jobs. But can't call or text any non-Apple folks.
This is important later. Okay. Oh. That's different.
What the fuck? Mind you, I'm the token redneck in this situation.
Thank Daryl from Walking Dead, but 5'8", weighing 150 pounds, soaking wet with a brick in each hand.
So, slightly less intimidating. I love this.
Naturally, I'm the one called to deal with vermin, old house issues, car problems, stray wildlife, and apparently, home invaders.
Oh, you're a one-stop shop. You are. My dude.
Everybody needs a Gary. Right, Lore? Everybody does.
Not wanting to walk into God only fucking knows what, I text Mary back something to the effect of, what the fuck is happening?
Don't blame me. I don't either. Somehow through the reflection off Mars bouncing across some space to agree past a cosmonaut's helmet and into the tiny ass window in my room, cell service finds me and I call. from Mary comes through and I answer.
I'll never forget the sound of her voice.
In the most quiet, quivering whisper imaginable, she says, someone is in the house.
I think they're robbing us. Oh God, the bedroom doorknob is turning.
No! Then the call drops into complete silence.
No. I would have shat myself. Is Mary okay?
Mary, are you okay? Are you okay? Now I am wide fucking awake, riding in adrenaline high, sitting on the edge of my bed in the total darkness, ass cheeks clenched so fucking tight I almost made a diamond out of the mattress cover.
I managed to retrieve my handgun from its lockbox.
Gun safety is important. Yes, it is. Mary texts my roommate Chad and I, the only appropriate use for a group chat, that she thinks the person has left and asks us to come upstairs again.
Me, not wanting to either get stabbed, whacked with a bat, or shoot a roomie in this situation, replied back, fuck that.
Call the police and have them clear the house.
It is, in fact, their job after all. That is very true.
That's a solid point. Now, remember that staircase outside my bedroom wall?
Well, someone very quietly and very slowly walks down, pauses, and then goes back upstairs.
What? Mind you, everyone is in their bedrooms waiting on the cops.
I'm about to go full Major Payne shooting up the boogeyman in the kid's closet, if you know you know.
Okay. Ick, ick. Right about now. The cops arrive yelling, Sheriff's office!
Flashing bright-ass lights and brandishing all sorts of weapons from handguns, shotguns, assault rifles, because, well, North Carolina, aka the South.
They were not fucking around at 4.30 a.m. or whatever time this was.
They come in, clear the house, and get us all together in the upstairs kitchen to take statements.
I put on a pot of coffee because, you know, this day must have originated in the pits of hell, but caffeine makes everything better.
It's so true. It's true. I would have done the same thing.
That's all I want right now is a nice old cough.
Nice old cough. I would like a nice new cough, but to each their own.
Wait, what? He said you'd like a nice old cough.
No, no, a nice ice coffee. They said a nice old coffee.
I was like, I would like a new one. I'd love an old moldy pot of coffee.
Wow. I think it was the way I said ice. Oh.
I was like, that's such a choice. No. I didn't have coffee today either.
What a niche way to drink coffee. Yeah, you know, it's just like the hipster thing I do.
I just really like it when it's been sitting out for like days.
It does. It's better for the flavor noise.
But it has a layer of fuzz on it. That's my favorite.
Okay, you're losing me. I'm vomiting. I'm vomiting.
They determined that we had an unlocked door that led to nowhere.
Should have been to a deck, but the deck was never built, so just had a three-foot drop.
That's fucking amazing. Wow. Imagine if you just opened that door one day and you were just like, whoop.
That's literally some Beetlejuice shit. Wow.
The fuckwad rummaging around our house used that door, left it open, but wore gloves because when they dusted the knob for fingerprints, they got zilch.
About this time, one of the outside officers radios to the others and asks if a particular window was open.
It's early spring, so it's cold as a witch's titty and a brass bra doing pushups in the snow outside, so no, the window wasn't supposed to be open.
Yeah. That shit stain had opened the window in Chad's room, but must have decided against crawling in because there was a box fan sitting in it.
Not to cause a commotion, he went to the opposite side of the house, found the unlocked no-deck door, and later on that day, I went to the hardware store and bought a drill and a box of three-inch screws and screwed both windows in the downstairs so tightly shut that not even Satan himself could open them because fresh air is for dead people.
Yes. Scary. Nothing was stolen, which I thought was weird.
But upon this revelation, the cops were instantly like, oh yeah, this is the back rub guy.
What? Fuck me sideways. Y'all know how this is?
Well, I'll go into that in a minute. The cops leave and we try our best to go about our normal day.
The last cop out the door walks over to me.
They knew I had a handgun because they asked.
Soul overtook me when I said hand. Hand.
A handgun. Yeah. It's like a handgun, but different.
He shakes my hand, thanks him for the coffee and says, if someone breaks into my house in the middle of the night, the only way they're leaving was with toe tags and walks out of the door.
Again, welcome to the mountains of North Carolina.
He just drops a primetime cop drama line and then walks out.
He was like, thanks for the coffee. And by the way, I would murder a man if he came in my house.
This kid's like, I'm in college and I'm still shit-faced.
He's like, I'm auditioning for a bit part on Chicago PD.
The only thing that would have made that better if he lit a cigarette on the way out.
Oh, hell yeah. Wow. Or like took a swig from like a thing.
Immediately dropped the cigarette and stamped it out at your feet and just walked away.
Blew an O in your face and left. Gotta get back to the station.
Oh. So back to this back rub, Kai. Yeah, please, because you veered away from that too quickly and I was like, uh.
Turns out this fucking shitbag of a human being would stalk college girls at the local bars.
He would select one he liked and follow her home.
Sometime later that night when the victim-to-be was dead asleep or passed out from the deluge of alcohol, he would break into their house.
The goal of all this was to get into her bed, snuggle up behind her, and give her a fucking back rub.
No. Ab's a fucking lutely not asshole. No.
Apparently, this happened to several people by this point.
After the unwanted massage, he would just leave quietly.
This has to be the most stress-inducing back rub anybody has ever gotten in the history of the universe.
Truly. Later on that year, July, I think, this sack of meat with a skeleton inside, see what I did there, was arrested and charged with a litany of offenses.
I don't know whatever happened to this douche canoe, but I have attached a link to the article.
Please feel free to dig into this more and discuss whatever happened.
What the fuck? I want to look into this.
Hope you enjoy this tale. My wife and I love, love, love your show.
Be sure to keep it weird. Take it away, Ash.
But that's so weird that you break into somebody's house in the middle of the night and crawl into their fucking bed with them and start touching them like you have any fucking right to do that and have any idea who this person even is.
I hope you got clocked in the face the last time you did that.
And... poop dong fuck yeah yeah p.s elena you should join forces with ashley flowers over at crime junkie and go full fucking nuclear on crime cases in slash near west memphis arkansas fuck yeah i'm pretty sure there's enough pent-up rage between the two of you to solve several cases including the west memphis three and the boys on the track 10 10 20 crime junkie episode shit's wild fuck yeah let's go solve that shit there you go let's all go to west memphis arkansas and just fuck shit up yeah Something needs to move in the West Memphis case.
Seriously. That's all I'm saying. But hell yeah.
Gary for the win. And Laura and Aspen. Forever.
Forever. And you know what? Look at these dogs.
Let me see these pups. Is that a gerbil?
A gerbil? Look at this gerbil dressed like a fucking lobster.
I'm obsessed. Look at it. It's a gerbil.
And this golden retriever is dressed as a fucking chef-erino.
And then this dog is dressed as a little reindeer with a beard.
Guys, I love your animals. I love them. And I love that you send them to us.
Oh, my God. The dog dressed as a fucking chef.
Oh, it's from The Little Mermaid. I get it.
Oh, because the chef with the lobster. The chef and the lobster.
I love. The Swedish chef. Oh, my God. I love it.
I'm not like a big rodent person. Yeah. Gerbils.
Is that what that is? Is that a gerbil? A hamster or a gerbil?
I don't know what the difference is. Hamsters are like so small.
I've never had either. You've never had a hamster?
No. Good for you. I had a hermit crab. You know, I would like get a hermit crab right now.
Yeah, they're chill. Yeah, they're cute.
They're really cool. But I like the gerbil guinea pig things.
Yeah. Those are pretty cool. They're really cute.
They are cute. Yeah. But then I see their little feet and I'm like, oh.
Yeah, as soon as they go skitter skitter skitter, then I go, ah.
Yep. I don't like it. No. All right. But I like yours.
I like yours. This one is called, and can we say your name?
Can we say your name? I don't know. We'll find out.
So this one is called One Spooky, One Sketchy Dorm Dweller and Yeeting Out of the Park.
All right. Here we go. Hi. Hello, beautiful ladies.
I've been wanting to send you these tales for a long time, but my ADD kept distracting.
Squirrel! Squirrel! I discovered your podcast in November 2021 after I accidentally acted out Newton's third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
My husband and I were in the crawl space to insulate the house for winter when I stood up quickly, slammed my head into the support beam of the house and hit the ground equally as fast with a doozy of a concussion.
That's a bad hit. That just made my head hurt.
Yeah. Being the awesome guy he is, he immediately got me out of there and iced my head.
In the following weeks, I could not look at screens for very long.
I thought a podcast would be the best solution because I could listen with my eyes closed.
Happily, I found Morbid. Our old lady lab, Lexi, had just gone through ACL surgery.
So the two of us laid on the living room floor, binge listening to you both.
Oh my god, Lexi and mom just hanging out.
Just hanging out. I've been hooked ever since.
Thank you for getting me and Lexi through our healing stage and sharing so many horrible stories in a way that respects the victims.
You've made me laugh out loud and tear up.
I was actually disappointed the day I caught up and listened to all of your episodes because now I have to wait each week for my fix.
I was so excited for you, Ash, and cannot wait to hear all about your wedding.
Yay, thank you. I am also so excited for you, Elena, for writing and publishing your book.
Thank you. I bought it on Audible. Hell yeah.
Alas, I am old, and every time I sit down to read, I fall asleep, and I am loving it.
That happens to me, too. During the pandemic, I too wrote a book that I am hoping to publish in January.
Oh, shit. It's January at this very moment.
What's happening? I can relate to how much goes into writing and publishing a book.
I would love to send you each a copy when it is ready.
Oh, my God. I would love to. Tell me the name.
I want to buy it. Please, please, please.
I want to buy it. I like to support the author.
Anyhoo, and good for you, man. Anyhoo, onto my tales.
Feel free to use any names as they have all been changed.
The first one takes place in East where-the-hell-are-we Kentucky.
I was born and raised in New Jersey but decided to go to the same school where my dad had gone to college.
What? I love that. Ooh. Again, it says, Ooh.
Retweet. I feel that. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
He was never mean or scary, just a pain in the ass.
I usually took my showers while my roommate was across campus in class.
We had a communal bathroom down the hall, so it was a daily field trip.
I would come back into my room and my lotion that I had on my desk would be gone.
I would find it in the back of my closet or somewhere equally obscure.
Could my roommate have snuck back in to be a dick?
Maybe, but other things could not be so easily poo-pooed.
I bought my friend who lived across the hall a queen search.
Yeah, I don't know what that is. Should I know what that is?
I know I'm going to be very upset with myself.
Well, it's like 90s, so you should know.
I was just going to say. Queen of the 90s.
There's so many people screaming at me right now.
Beanstrike? Oh, it's heavy metal. Rawr! I haven't heard the, oh, okay.
Thank you for introducing me to new music that is old, but we love it.
So bought that CD for Christmas. She bought it.
I'm going to listen to it, by the way. She brought it into my room to play on my boom box.
Your boom box. We clicked the play button to let it play through.
It played everything except Silent Lucidity, track 8, and Anybody Listening, track 11.
There are two ballads on that album, but have a bit of a creepy vibe.
I'm very excited to listen to this. So the little one didn't like them.
Yeah. I would click through the tracks to Silent Lucidity, click play, and it would skip to the next song.
This happened several times. I got frustrated and yelled, can we please hear Silent Lucidity?
It immediately stopped playing track 9 and track 8 began playing from the beginning.
So they played it. Yeah. We all just stared at the boombox with our mouths open.
You just had to ask politely and a little bit, a little bit like angrily.
Give a little bit of a, you know. The most concrete way our little boy Boo would interact with us was through incense smoke.
We used to burn sticks of incense in our dorm room and would love to watch the smoke stream dance and curl as it made its way into the room.
I loved it. My roommate and I would sit on our beds talking, and the smoke would move towards one of us at a faster pace than seemed natural.
If it came over to me, I would say hello and then ask it to go say hi to my roommate.
Immediately, the smoke would change direction and travel over to her.
That's really cool. Then she would ask it to visit me again, and it would come back towards me.
I just want to know how high you guys were, though.
I also want to know that. Oh. I love that.
My second story is not supernatural, just super gross.
Oy. Picture it. Washington Crossing State Park, 1992.
A little bit different from Sicily, but you know.
For those who are, yeah, a little bit. For those who are not familiar, this park is exactly what its name suggests.
It is where George Washington and his men crossed the Delaware River from Pennsylvania to New Jersey on December 25th, 1776 to attack the unsuspecting Haitians in Trenton.
It's the park where it happened. The park where it happened.
The park covers over 500 acres in both Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
Many people travel here every year to watch reenactments of the crossing, go camping, or enjoy one of the nature or historic events they host.
My friend Polka, Tracy, and I went there to smoke Marlboros and try to pick up guys.
Icons. Same thing. We had all piled into my car and headed to the park one beautiful spring day.
Teenage hormones raging. I put the car in park and immediately removed my glasses and stashed them in the glove box.
I'm tired. I haven't fully committed to contact lenses yet.
My glasses were roughly the size of Elton John's.
Not the look I was going for. I figured if I got close enough to talk to someone, I would be able to see what they actually looked like.
I never understand people who can do that.
Really? Something about taking my glasses.
I can't see with my glasses off at all. And a lot of people are like, no, me either.
But like, I'll take them off and just walk around.
And I'm like, it feels like it would be a very vulnerable situation.
Yeah. State of being. And it just feels weirdly claustrophobic at the same time.
Yeah, I feel that. You know what I mean?
Because you can't see further than your own face.
Vision. Yeah. Like it's literally like I'm stuck in my head.
Yeah. Yeah, that would be weird. People used to do that in school all the time.
They'd be like, I don't want to wear my glasses.
Like, why do you wear yours? Glasses aren't great.
And I'm like, so I can see. And to look hot because glasses are where it's at.
I never looked hot in mine. You look great in glasses.
I do now, but thank you. I do now, but not back then.
Yeah. You're like, oh, yeah, I do. But I didn't.
I've gotten good at accepting compliments, okay?
I love that. I'm nearing my 30s. 2023. I told you.
There you go. I told you. So Polka and Tracy followed suit with their glasses, and we headed into the park laughing and meandering down the trails.
We spent some time sitting on the picnic tables, talking and chain smoking, swinging on the swings in the playground, and just doing the kinds of things teenagers did to pass the time in the age before cell phones and the internet.
It was time to leave, so we all started walking back to the parking lot.
As we got closer to my car, a sedan came rolling up, crunching the gravel that covered the lot as it approached.
The sedan stopped and the driver held up a sign.
Polka, Tracy, and I are nothing if not helpful and nearsighted, so none of us could read the sign from where we were.
We approached the car and saw a man with slicked back hair.
The grease so thick it was dripping onto his shoulders.
That's so heinous. I have to go. He had a 70s porn star mustache and appeared to be wearing a trench coat.
Oh, no. Odd for how nice it was outside.
Oh, no. He was one of those people that you could imagine the way they smelled.
Very ungood. Very ungood. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
The sign said, would you like to see my penises?
Penises. Penises? Yes. P-E-N-U-S-E-S. Penises.
Not only could he not spell, but he thought he was the master of multiple manhood, apparently.
Woof. It was then he thrust his hips up and waved his limp shrimp at us.
Oh, my God. I'm fine. Why? Why are men? Why are men?
That's really foul. I hate that you had to do... Like, you were teenagers.
I would have fucking inserted my fist into that fucking car.
But you know what? You wouldn't have. No, I wouldn't have.
Of course not. I'm just like, now I'm so angry for you.
That would be the most fucking terrifying thing.
Yeah. Like, that would be such a fucking violation.
Yeah, of course it would. In your head, you would want to take out some gardening shears and just snip right off.
But... Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Kudos to the park ranger for stifling the laugh that started to force its way out.
He wrote our descriptions down along with all of our information, but the flash around four wheels was long gone.
I never heard of anyone else being subjected to his nasty bits and poor spelling, so hopefully he retired Mr. Happy into his pants.
Yeah. also if i found out that any of my children were walking up to strangers cars they would never be going to the park ever again the 90s were a different time i suppose if you got this far thank you so much for sharing my stories i'm including some pictures of my fur babies all ready for halloween our yellow lab lexi is the chef our guinea pig stanton amadeus shut the fuck up your guinea pig's name is stanton amadeus fluffernutter that's pretty i Is the lobster.
And our chocolate lab Muffy is chocolate mousse dessert.
Oh, my God. Stanton Amadeus Fluffernutter.
Fluffernutter. Thank you for being awesome and please never stop doing what you do.
Oh, and Elena, since you're... fan of anthony head check out the movie oh you think i have it this is one of elena's favorite movies we both the genetic opera if you've never seen it he is one of the main characters i love you anthony stewart head and i love that you suggested that we are one yeah we are one sydney keep it weird but not so weird ash help that's so weird that you flash your penises several of them the He loses.
Girl, we are on the same wavelength, you and I. And also, we are definitely covering Repo the Genetic Opera on Scream, even though Caleb said we are not doing that.
What is it about? He doesn't like it, and also I think he covered it on Horror Soup recently, so I won't make him do it recently.
What's the movie about? It's real hard to explain.
It's... Awesome. Okay. It's like... We usually have similar tastes.
I'm trying to think of like an easy way to describe it.
I don't even want to describe it because I need you to go in with just full... Just only know that Anthony Stewart has it.
Ready to take it all in. Only know that Mr. Giles is eating.
Okay. Oh, there's such good songs on that too.
Now that I'm just thinking about it. Same one.
You know what? I will not. But Sydney, you're fucking awesome.
I really want to know what your book is.
So email us and or I'll even just hopefully do I have your whole name?
Because if I do, I'll look it up. But email us and let us know how the book is going, what part of the process you're in and what the name of it is because I want to buy it.
I want to buy your book. And just put the subject like, hi.
Sydney's book. I'm Sydney and here's my book.
Okay. Also, that was fucked up that that guy did that.
I was trying to think of a scream thing to say to you because Sydney, but then it didn't come to me in time.
Sydney. Sydney. That's what you got? I thought I had a whole line.
You literally went. But it ended. Sydney.
That could have been from any movie with a girl named Sydney.
I thought I had a whole line to say. But you didn't.
It just stopped. You probably do suck in there.
It's just not. I 100% have one in there, but I am so tired that all I could get out was.
All we had to say was, hello, Sydney. Hello, Sydney.
Every time I say Sydney, it sounds like I'm saying Cindy.
And I bet you find that annoying because I would.
Every time somebody says, no, the listener, Sydney.
Oh, okay. See, I just did it. Every time anybody, and especially in school, it used to drive me fucking nuts when teachers would say, actually, I always thought they were saying Ashley.
And I was like, don't call me by my government name.
Don't do it. They say that time waits for no one, neither should payday.
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Anyways, next listener tale. I moved into an old abandoned sorority house for a year and spooky shit happened.
Oh, shit. Hi, Ash and Elena. Attached. But if I did the whole thing like that, that would be bad.
No. Attached is a double-spaced put-a-ful.
Listener tale. I hope you like the story enough to share it on the podcast.
I do. And hey, if not, then I hope you at least get a good laugh.
I still do. We're going to do all that.
Because again, who moves into an abandoned sorority house where crimes were previously committed?
You do. Maybe just me. P.S. I also included pictures at the end.
I like to read stories and then actually know what the places look like because I'm nosy.
Fuck yeah. Sincerely, I don't know if I can say your name yet.
Okay. Oh, I can. It's Clark. You can. Oh, cool.
Oh, that's a cool name. Yeah. Hi, Alina and Ash.
You can use my name. My name is Clark, and I'm a 26-year-old Taurus, including this for Ash, because I feel like you need to know my sign if we're going to be friends.
Hell yeah. I love a good Taurus. My cat Franklin is a Taurus.
Linz is a Taurus. One of my first best friends, Allison, was also a Taurus.
Yeah, they're good people. Boom. They're also just funny.
I love a good Taurus. They're weird, but in a fun way.
Yeah. We love weird people. Oh, one of my brother-in-laws is a Taurus, too.
I like Taurus. There you go. All right.
Look at that. Clark, we're friends. I live and work in Baltimore City as a criminal defense attorney.
Oh, okay. I have so many stories to share because work is wild and so is Baltimore.
Adnan Sain, the gun trace task force, Jonathan Lutha, the Belvedere Hotel.
Jonathan Luna is my name. I'm so sorry. Never a dull moment around here.
That being said, I'll probably keep writing to you.
And quite frankly, I really doubt you're going to come across another girl named Clark.
So, hey, maybe you'll remember me when I write in again.
Okay. Hell yeah. I'm always going to remember you because now we're Taurus best friends.
And always write in. Always. Always. My listener tale takes place in good old Bloomington, Illinois.
I did that on purpose. I was going to say that was terrible.
I did it on purpose to frustrate you. I went to undergrad in the cornfields of Illinois.
And what do people do when they're cold as fuck and surrounded by corn?
They drink. I have to paint the picture of my college or this story just won't be as good.
I went to a small university, like 2,000-ish students, but the school feels big.
The campus is spread out, and to walk from the farthest point of campus to the other side, it would probably be a good 20-minute walk.
Imagine a 20-minute walk in sub-zero, windy-ass weather.
Why did I voluntarily go to Illinois? The jury's still out on that one.
Anyway, my freshman year, I joined a sorority and I lived in a house with 50, oh yes, five zero other girls for both my sophomore and junior year.
Damn. You don't know fun until you stumble home drunk as a skunk from a bar, play the piano in the foyer of the house and disturb your house mom who is low-key obsessed with bird watching and has combos with you about how she wants to put little trackers on birds she finds so that she can see anywhere they go.
Anyway, that sorority house was very much lively.
No ghosts there. But after leaving that sorority house, I moved into a different sorority house.
Wild, right? Nobody. Yeah. You could imagine what my parents were like.
No, fuck God. I can't talk. Yeah, you could imagine.
My parents were like, what in the absolute hell is wrong with our child?
Well, this old abandoned sorority house has a name, Kayopi.
Thank you for the pronunciation there. I feel like I better put some respect on this house and use its real name or some weird, scary haunting is going to somehow find its way from Illinois to Maryland and get me.
And truly, I'm just too tired to deal with something like that right now.
I get that. Me too. Me too. So here's the background of Kaopai, lovingly named Kopi, I think.
Yeah, sure. The house was originally a mansion overlooked by a local doctor.
After he passed away, it was purchased by the university and later the Alpha Omicron.
Omicron. Pie. A.O. Pie. A.O. Pie sorority.
Thank you. In October of 1978, an armed ex-boyfriend of one of the members of the sorority broke in through one of the basement windows of the house and raped at least one girl and assaulted five others.
Holy shit. The rape and assault ultimately led to the closure of the sorority a few years later due to lack of membership.
That's so intense. That's horrifying. Following the closure of the sorority, the house sat from the early 80s to 2016 when my future landlord, we'll call her Lynette, decided to flip the house.
Lynette's sister was one of the women living in the home during the 1978 rape and assault.
And for whatever reason, Lynette decided to flip it and convert it into a rental property.
Always be closing, I suppose. Choices. Lynette technically converted Aopai, now lovingly renamed Kopi, into two rental properties.
This house was split into two parts, front and back, where each side of the home housed four girls.
Although the home was split into two, it had three points of connection.
A door in the kitchen, a door in the attic, and a door in the basement.
If both sides of the house unlocked their doors, it made two sides one giant home.
So eight girls total, living in an old abandoned sorority house their senior year of college, most of whom were my sorority sisters and close friends.
I mean, imagine myself and three friends cheering as fuck about living in a giant mansion our senior year of college and paying really cheap rent and having parties.
So cool, right? Yeah, hell yeah. Well, what was even cooler was on move-in day, Lynette came by to share with us the history of the house.
That was nice of her. Yeah, how kind. She showed us pictures of where the house sat with running water for over 30 years.
I fucked that whole sentence up. She showed us before pictures where the house sat with running water for over 30 years.
It was a hot mess. The only part... that Lynette did not flip was the basement.
She told us the basement was completely off limits and was to remain locked at all times.
I would immediately break the lock and go down there.
I'd leave. Yeah. I just need to take a detour to say if a landlord tells you she is permanently locking a basement in your rental property and not giving you a key, you should probably leave and vacate that lease.
Yeah, probably. But again, nope, I am 21 years old and so intrigued by this as if it's an episode of Goosebumps and I'm going to live out some awesome haunted fantasy.
I get that. So of course, I asked her if I could see the basement before she locked it.
Lynette happily obliged and we all set out on a tour.
I love that you were just like, I gotta ask.
Can I see this shit? Can I see it? I love that she was like, yeah, sure, you can totally see it.
You can just never go down here ever again.
Yeah, just see it once. Damn. Well, when Lynette says they didn't flip the basement, they literally did not touch the basement.
The rooms where these girls were raped and assaulted were left untouched.
Oh, it was in the basements. Wallpaper with little pink flowers peeling off the walls.
Metal bed frames still assembled throughout the rooms.
Loose wires hanging from the ceilings. Water damage in a giant bathroom lined with at least 10 sinks and showers.
Talk about some weird Harry Potter moaning Myrtle vibes.
Oof. So yeah, no wonder Lynette decided to lock the basement and not leave us with a key.
Good enough for me. I got my little tour never going down there again.
Yep. Fast forward three months. We had a maintenance issue.
I want to say the lights wouldn't turn on in one of the rooms.
Regardless, Robert, Lynette's husband, took care of all the maintenance for the house, so we asked him to come over.
Robert brought his keys because he had to go into the basement to get to the breaker and see if something had tripped.
That would have been so inconvenient anytime you like blew a fuse or something even.
You'd have to call someone to go down there.
You couldn't go down there and trip the breaker yourself.
I mean, I low-key kind of do that anyway because I call Drew and I'm like, hey, can you do that because it scares me.
So convenient for you. Convenient, but not if Robert didn't live there because that's not convenient.
Why the fuck would they do that? Ew. She explained that when Robert went into the basement to investigate the outage, he saw that there was a wire with a clean cut, as if it was sliced with a pair of scissors.
Exactly. Damn. So at that point, my roommates and I wrote the situation off as an animal chewing through the wire because it was just not possible that it was a human that cut a wire in the basement.
What the fuck? I feel like it was. I think it was.
I'm like really scared. That's weird. Innocent number one.
No, that's weird innocent number one. That's weird.
I think I also said innocent instead of incident.
You did. You said, that's weird. Innocent number one.
Am I okay? What the fuck is going on? What's going on?
That's weird. What's going on? That's my brain.
Incident number one. Number two, about a month later, we returned from class and found that my roommate and I, who shared a bathroom, had our shower curtain rod ripped from the wall and it was lying on the ground.
You may be thinking, well, that's not crazy.
Sometimes those little tension rod shower curtains fall.
Okay. Oh, no, no. This rod was bracketed and screwed into the wall.
Oh. There was no way it could just fall.
It would have needed to have been pulled hard.
Now we're all kind of freaking out, piecing together the previous month's event of the snipped wire and now the shower rod.
My roommates and I are checking all three connecting doors to the two sides of the house, all three of which were locked and had not been tampered with.
Because like I said, we were all in a class across campus.
But of course, being our 21-year-old carefree selves, we moved along and probably went out to a bar that same night and got wasted off a $5 Long Island iced tea pitcher.
Damn. Wow, take me back. You gotta get out of there.
I just smelled that bar with the pitchers of Long Island.
You smelled it. Yeah, I did. Okay, now hang on to your butts for this ghostly event number three.
At this point in time, it is the dead in the middle of a Chicago suburb winter.
It's cold as hell, the wind is absolutely insane, and people really aren't leaving their houses unless they have to.
How ideal. After Christmas break, we quite frankly did not want to trudge through the tundra to the bars, so we were having a lot of parties at the house.
Most of our parties took place in the attic, and both sides would unlock and open the connecting doors.
The attics were really big, very high ceilings, nice hardwood floor, perfect spot for a party.
It feels so weird for an attic to have, like, nice hardwood floors.
After a long weekend of partying in the attic, hosting upwards to 50 to 100 people, we locked the connecting doors, cleaned up the sticky hardwood floors, and called it a wrap.
Other than parties, the only other real reason to go upstairs into the attic was if somebody wanted to smoke.
Really, we had one roommate who utilized the attic as a little smoke sesh area, so during the school week, none of us were going up there but her.
Monday morning rolls around, and myself and my roommates that live in the front half of the house wake up ice cold.
Like I said, this house was a very old mansion.
It had those metal heaters that rattle and make noise because they have to work so hard to heat the house.
But truly, there was never a time before where we felt cold like this.
Everyone knows how miserable it is to wake up in the morning, and you can't even get out of bed because your teeth are just involuntarily chattering.
We all exit our bedrooms to figure out why the heat isn't working.
And after inspecting the thermostat, it was a nice toasty 75 degrees and we can feel heat coming off of the radiators.
Huh. What? Now listen, the door leading up to the attic, not the same door that connects the two sides of the house, is on the same level as our bedrooms, and it's a creaky old 1800s door.
No glitz or glam to it. Lynette didn't redo this aspect of the house, and oftentimes this door would creak open from time to time.
Well, the attic door creaks open, and immediately we feel that the ice cold we are experiencing is even more severe in the entryway to the attic.
We walk up the stairs to the attic and every single window is wide open.
Crank windows. Not windows in modern houses that you push down from the top and lock and you're good.
These are windows that have a metal crank that you have to sit there for a good 10 seconds to crank open.
Who the fuck is doing that? A ghost. I'm pretty sure the four of us looked at each other, said absolutely nothing, shit our pants, and ran back down the stairs as fast as our freezing cold feet allowed us to move.
Who the hell opened the attic windows and why?
That's what I'm saying. Me too. And the door to our side of the house was locked.
What? So what did we do next? Well, we did what all girls do.
We talked about it for a week, totally freaking out and telling everybody that crossed our paths what happened and how terrifying it was.
But after the week that we lived in Kopi in harmony, but after that week, we lived in Kopi, or Kopi, I think, in harmony until graduation that May with no more events or encounters from the supernatural.
I love that they just were like, well, that's that.
That's the that on that. Yeah. You cannot convince me otherwise that someone wasn't living in the basement or snuck up while we were sleeping and fucked with us on multiple occasions.
Or maybe more reasonable that there was a ghost totally messing with us.
I love that that's more reasonable. The paranormal side is more reasonable.
That's more reasonable to me because, like, why would a random person just fuck with you and not, like, kill you or something?
Have you ever heard of the people that just, like, live in people's houses and they're addicts, steal their food?
Can you not? I'm just saying. Don't do that.
It happens all the time. I know. Sometimes I think I hear things in the attic and then I make Drew go up there and there's nothing there.
And there's no one living there. Not yet.
I have the utmost respect for the girls that were living in the house in 1978 when the rape and assault occurred.
And I really don't think any of their ghosts would come back to scare a bunch of little college seniors trying to have a good time in a newly rented mansion.
But I do think that the nasty ass monster of a rapist that came into their house and gave off major Ted Bundy vibes, mind you, in the exact same year that Bundy committed his sorority massacre was the monster of a ghost haunting our house.
I didn't even think of that. Probably. Yeah.
So that is my listener tale. Holy shit. I hope you all enjoyed.
Really, living in this house was one of the most fun experiences I've ever had in my life.
So big shout out to Lynette and Rob and Robert for renting to us.
But like, also fuck you for thinking that we sniffed a wire, pulled a shower curtain rod out of the wall, and did some spooky weirdo shit by leaving all the windows of an attic open in the middle of February.
Attaching a few pictures of the house for good measure.
Oh, it is gorgeous. Wow, that's really pretty.
Wow. It looks, like, spooky, though. It does.
It's got spooky vibes. It doesn't have enough windows on the other side.
I think that's what freaks me out about it.
Ooh. That was a creepy one, and I feel so bad.
What a terrible, like, vibe to have in that house.
I know. I'm surprised it had any good vibes, because what a terrible crime that happened.
Especially just, like, everything in the basement still as it was and just locked away.
Like, that really adds to the... Yeah, that's the thing that it's just like locked in time, just frozen there.
I got chilly willy. Same. Well, let's end on one that I don't know if it's on a good note or not, but it's called Muffins from Hell.
I love muffins, so let's go. So to me, that seems great.
Hey, Ash and Elena. Hey. Sending you lots of love and positivity.
Oh, thank you. That's really nice. You too.
My name is Hallie. Like the actress Halle Berry or like Halle from The Parent Trap of whom I was named.
Oh, I love that. Or you can call me Hal Capone.
That's one of my nicknames that I gave to myself and tell people to use it, but it hasn't caught on yet.
All right, Hal Capone. Hal Capone it is.
Anyway, I have a pretty short tale, but I think it's worth telling.
I give permission to use my name, etc. First of all, the obligatory, I fucking love you guys so much.
Thanks for being my true crime besties. You guys helped me get through COVID lockdown when I first found your podcast.
I love the way you two chat and share parts of your lives with us.
Truly makes me feel like I'm physically there with you guys.
I truly appreciate you guys starting this podcast and all the hard work you put into it.
I appreciate you. I appreciate the shit out of you.
Damn, Hal Capone. Okay, so I'm from Chicago and grew up here.
I was born in China and adopted at the age of three, though.
My parents are from the Chicago area, too.
Oh, I did want to say I'm moving to Boston in December to start graduate school at BC.
So I'll be closer to you guys. Yay. Good for you, man.
Congratulations. I will be getting, and I hope you're liking Boston.
I know, same. I will be getting my master's in social work.
Badass. I'm so excited. Also, one quick side note on my mom, who the listener tale is about when I eventually get there.
Sorry. Anyhow, because I know how much Ash likes Real Housewives, my mom had us all travel on vacation to L.A. to visit family, but I think more than anything to attend the official gay brunch at Lisa Vanderpump's Restaurant Pump.
I'm obsessed. She got a picture with her dog.
I love that you told me that. And also got a pic of Lisa when she was about to sit down for her own lunch and she doesn't look too happy.
Although she does look fabulous, as always, in the pic.
But my mom was. I will attach the pics to the email.
Oh, my God. I love knowing that. And I especially love knowing that the day after the Vanderpump Rules trailer came out.
It looks like it's going to be great. Season...
13, 10. Season too many. Season too many, but I'm here.
Wild. I'm here because I'm going down with the ship.
Oh, absolutely. If we go down, then we go down too.
Yeah, that's right. Finally, I will tell the story.
Tee hee. Okay, so one day my mom, she went to Northwestern University, which is a school in Evanston, Illinois, came back to her on-campus apartment and found a basket of muffins in the hallway to her front door.
That's never good. She went up to the basket, and there they were for anyone who wanted one.
She said they smelled really good and looked homemade.
Wink, wink. She decided she was going to put all her stuff back in the apartment before she went back to grab one, because she had a lot of stuff, I guess.
Thankfully, I bet. Anyway, she gets distracted easily, and thank goodness for that, because she forgot about the muffins and didn't end up getting one.
That's good. I don't know how. After seeing them, that would be my priority for the rest of my life.
Same. Anyway, thank goodness she did forget about them because a few days later, she and the rest of the apartment complex later found out that the muffins were left there by a murderer, Lori Dan.
Why? She made them with a bunch of cyanide.
Luckily, no one took any, so no one died.
I was going to say, never take food that is just out.
No. In the middle of your hallway. No. Which I personally don't understand because my fat ass would have left one muffin and taken the basket.
The detectives and the autopsy person would have taken one look inside my dead body and been like, well, we probably could have saved her if she ate one, but this bitch ate five muffins.
Relatable. You guys should look up Lori Dan, an interesting character.
She grew up in Illinois and went to New Trier High School, which I know a ton of people who went there.
And fun fact, it's the school that Mean Girls is based off of.
Tina Fey based it off of New Trier. The school is known to be for rich people in the suburbs of Chicago.
Anyway, back to the not-so-cool part. She, Lori, was a babysitter.
And she killed a young boy in elementary school in Chicago and injured six others.
Oh my gosh. Heartbreaking. Afterwards, she killed herself.
So that is my story, and I hope you found it interesting.
I'm sorry I do not know how to seg into the conclusion and the goodbye.
It seems a little odd to go from and then she killed herself to thanks for reading, but that's how it goes.
It's pretty short, but I think it's one to share.
I'm so sorry if my writing didn't make any sense, and if you're confused, I am too.
My apologies. No, that made perfect sense.
No, the fact that there was just like a basket of muffins left by an actual murderer.
Right. And your mom was like, I'm going to grab one of those and then got distracted.
Thank goodness for ADD. That's yeah, that's a lifesaver.
Again, I love you guys so much, and I look forward to listening to your episode every time you upload.
You two are really good storytellers, and needless to mention, hilarious.
Thank you. So are you. So thank you for all your laughs and the morbid stories.
XOXO, Hal Capone. Below are pics of my mom with Lisa's dog.
I don't remember the dog's name. Please, Lord.
Lord Almighty, forgive me for my blasphemy.
It's Jiggy. Is it Jiggy? It's Jiggy. I was hoping it was.
And the dog's butler? Is it? The pic of Lisa herself.
And look who's in the background of the pic of Lisa.
Oh, my God. Do you see? Hold on. I'm looking.
It's Max. Oh, my God. It's Max. Holy shit.
The whole fam damily. Lisa Vanderpump. Lisa.
I love it. The dog and the dog's butler?
Your mom is adorable. I just want to say.
You know that it's that time. These are the best days of our lives.
I was going to interrupt you when you said our time and I was going to say to say goodbye.
But you didn't. But I didn't. I let you finish.
Thanks. Wow, guys. We had a mix of ghosties.
Illinois. A lot of Illinois. We had some Chicago.
We had some Moina. We had some scariness.
We had some everything. And before anybody says anything, I know that Chicago and Illinois are like in the same place.
But like we had them. Illinois as a whole and then also Chicago.
I wanted to say that to get ahead of the emails.
You know what? That's a very good, yeah.
Thank you for covering that. Don't worry.
I know. Don't worry. I know. I know all about the Illinois.
You know what? Ask Hal Capone over there.
She knows. Yeah. She knows. Hal Capone, baby.
Guys, I love all of you. You know, you're the best.
These are so fucking funny and also terrifying and also adorable sometimes.
Yeah. Yeah, I love all of them and you with my whole entire heart.
And I love Stanton Amadeus Floppenutter.
So much. So there's that. So much. I think I might go get one.
Yeah, there you go. My God, the cats would not take one.
That would not be good. No, I would never.
That thing would be hunted in three seconds flat.
And with that being said, we hope that you keep listening.
And we hope you keep it weird. But it's so weird that you.
Get a gerbil for your cats to hunt. Oh, my God.
Don't ever keep it that weird. What are you, crazy?
Don't do it. I said don't do it. I believe you.
Yeah. 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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Hey, weirdos, we need to tell you about something that has completely blown our minds collectively.
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Post-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.
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.
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