You're listening to a Morbid network podcast. Hey, weirdos. I'm Elena. I'm Ash. And this is Morbid. It is. We were.

Just having a confession circle. Ash had.

A hilarious dream.

I'm not going to tell you that, Aaron. We'll tell it, but... It will not leave this room and we will not give you a hint. It won't. It won't. Cone of silence on that dream. It was a strange fucking dream. Let me tell you, Mikey and I have tears in our gosh darn us. I'm glad to give you that. What a gift. What a gift you gave me. Do you guys have weird dreams? No, do you guys have weird, inexplicable dreams about like- Of.

Course, everybody does. Because do you ever wake up.

From your dream and you're.

Like, What the.

Fuck is wrong with me? Happens a.

Lot, actually. I mean, I believe that to be true. That happens.

A lot. You wrote a whole.

Novel about the What.

The fuck is wrong with you, Dream? I'm not going to write a.

Novel about my- Remember my Flying Printer, Dream?

Yeah. That was a weird one. That was a weird one, and it was at my house.

It was. Yeah, I hope that doesn't happen.

I hope that.

Doesn't happen. I hope that dream doesn't come true. Mikey, can you calm down over there?

Stop throwing shit at me. -mikey's throwing shit.

I know my dream upset you, but... I also ordled. You did what now? You did what now?

I ordered some cookies for us. Are they cookie cookies?

Because I don't think we need those. Cookey cookies. Cookey cookies. But so we're.

Going.

To get even cookier in here because we're going to have cookies. We had Wendy's for lunch. We are just really clogging.

Those old Wendy's today. I was going to say today.

Is just like a fuck it day. Fuck it. Fuck it.

But you know what? It's listener tale day.

Brought to you by You For You From You and all about you, baby.

We love them. You love them. We all.

Love them together. Everybody in the club getting listener tales. She died. I killed her with my song. I don't.

Know why I just laughed so hard at that.

What are you drinking? Is that.

A Coke? It's a Coke. You only have.

Such a little bit of it, and I only had such a little bit.

Of it, and I only had such a little bit of.

My Dr. Pepper. I know. But I don't drink a lot of soda, usually. I just took two sips and we're just like, Whoa. We had coffees today, too, and I had a lot of mine. That's true. People are like, Can you just.

Slow it down?

I'm like, Can you shut the fuck up? Slow it down. Oh, we. Oh, we. Oh, sorry. I went to a place of Bregginon. We'll start.

With a wild tale. Okay. A tale that is called, The time.

A clown almost yeteth me, and I possibly almost yeteth him back. Okay. Because I don't know.

Why, but I was.

In a place of clown when I was looking for some listener tale. You were down to clown.

I was like, really? What is-Is that a bad.

Thing to say?

No. I'm not mad at you. But you were like... I was like, Does that mean something that I don't know? I'm screaming. Does it? I have no idea. I myself have never said that. Why did you make that face? Why did you.

Make me feel weird about what I.

Said for the second.

Time today? Probably based off your dream, more like probably and some crazy thing to say. Okay, it had nothing to do with clothes. I guess. I guess.

I mean.

It depends how you look.

At it. It certainly does. I was acted a clown. All right, so let's head.

To the tails. I'm just going to go right into it. I'm going.

To just do a quick intro. Love you guys. I've been listening for.

One to one to one now, and I'm listening for most recent episode, and I'm working my way down to number one.

That's an interesting way of.

Doing it. Don't do that. Let us know if you still think we're.

Okay by the end of that.

We're not.

Because the other way is much more fun. What an evolution you have, though. I was going to say you're devolving at that point. I was just thinking you'll experience my breakup or no, my marriage, my breakup, and then my not-breakup time, and then you'll experience.

A lot. Yeah, and.

You're going to experience it in a weird way. Yeah. And then you're slowly immersing yourself into water. Yeah, you're going 10,000 leagues under the sea. Stop. That's the picture that I saw, and that's what.

Reminded me of my weird dream, Mikey. Everybody, Mikey is hazing me, okay? My own employee is hazing me about a weird dream that I had one time. The amount of people that are going to be so pissed, but.

They will never. They will never know. It's locked up tight.

You better believe it. You better lock yourself up over there. You know what?

Whatever you think the dream was, that was a... Maybe not, though. So, yeah, you're listening to the show in a-.

In a tour now. -for about a tour now, and you're going at a very interesting way, I guess, from now to beginning. But you are also saying that your name is Jade, which I can say. Yup. Thank you. This terrifying, butthole, clenching.

Experience takes place way.

Back when in the lovely year.

Of 2016, I was but a scrawny, pimple-faced, wild-haired, mentally-unstable middle schooler.

Weren't we all? During this unfortunate time in.

My life, you may remember a certain.

Killer clown pandemic had arisen.

I personally had never been scared of clowns, but oh boy, was that opinion about to kick me in my non-existent middle school balls? Let's set the scene. It was 11 o'clock at night on Friday, mid-spooly season. The fall air was nippy, and I was at a sleepover with two of my friends. Amy, whose house we were residing, lived in the middle of literally bumfucked nowhere. Actually, she lived on a 100-acre private property that was only accessible by a windy gravel road. Honestly, the dream. Her father was a very paranoid man who we all joked but seriously thought was part of the CIA or the FBI. He supposedly worked as a mailman. But sir, sir, you expect us to believe your children go to private school on a mailman's salary? Not fucking buying it. The house- Aren't they government workers, though? Don't they make like, better money? I have no idea. There's not one part of me that can answer that question. Yeah, I don't know what they make, but I do know that they work... Like, technically you're a government employee. Private school is wildly expensive. Yeah, I didn't do that. That's just like college.

Yeah, I went to the worst public school ever.

But public school is great sometimes.

Yeah, depending on where. Yeah, exactly. The house was an old two-storey brickhouse with looming windows. Amy's dad also had numerous secret tunnels in the house just in case of any threat. Yeah, he's not a mailman. I was just going to say I think we figured this out. Established.

He is CIA, my friend. He said, Welcome to the CIA.

There you go. Does anybody remember? We've talked about it.

We're going off topic, but I know we've talked about this before. It's a club. It doesn't.

Exist anymore. It was called.

The California Institute of the.

Arts, I think.

Or the CIA. It's actually on topic because they had a dead clown there. There you.

Go, and the CIA. So it all makes sense. But when.

I went to.

California before, yeah, they had a dead mummified clown there and all this other weird shit. It was a cool place, but I think it's gone now. I've never been there.

People in California. But Amy's dad.

Also had numerous secret tunnels, but I've never personally seen these tunnels. They were locked up. But Amy.

Has informed us that.

There were bulletproof vest stored inside. That man is in the FBI, CIA. 100%. This is not relevant to the story, but it helps set the scene and vibe of the house in the area we were at. Leading up to this, my.

Friend had told us a handful of times how strangers.

Had shown up lost on her property. Most had been illegally hunting the land, not knowing it was private property or college kids fucking around. So random people showing up was not uncommon. However, they were quickly taught a lesson by her dad. The clown attack happened outside. We were sitting on.

Her trampoline.

One of those with the net around it. We were discussing deep topics as middle schoolers do. The only light nearby was a faint glow from the back porch light. The house was a good way away from the trampoline. Her backyard was large. It was almost a semicircle of cleared land edged by thick dark woods. Kikaka. Excuse me. Amy, Sarah, and I were sitting in a triangle formation. The two of them were sitting facing me, and I was facing them. As we were talking, something caught my eye over their shoulders. Keep in mind I have terrible eyesight and consistently boycott wearing my glasses, so it was hard to make out what I was seeing. Your eyesight is going to get worse, baby. A glint of something white had shifted in the woods, which was a very good distance away. At first, I just assumed it was a wind chime or something, but my friends had noticed that I had gone quiet. They eyed me questioningly. I think I saw something white moving in the woods over there, I whispered.

They turned to.

Look behind them squinting. For a moment, we were all silent, observing the entrance to the woods. Then I saw it again. It seemed to be pacing the edge of the woods outside of the cast of the dim light the porchlight was giving off. Sarah gasped. Her hand was trembling. Jade, I'm not kidding. I see.

Something red too.

At this point, it was apparent to all of us that there was something alive moving in the woods. We stood from our spots cautiously. I'm sure it's nothing, Amy assured us. We watched as the black figure crept out from the shadows, and oh, my gosh, with a labored breath, Sarah says, Guys, it was red hair. It has. It has. Red hair. It has. It was. I thought maybe what I saw was red hair. Guys, it was red hair. It was just... That's all. That's it. Guys, that was red hair. That's what we saw. That thing that was... I'm just like, showing like- Like you don't have red eyes. Like the hand in the Adams family, just like, booping around, just red hair. Just red hair. Just red. It's red hair. That was good. He said it has red hair. I caught my breath. It became clear that a full-ass clown was in the woods and was approaching us. Baby, you.

Better.

Run so far away. He was wearing a black, cloak-like outfit.

His mask was a haunting, almost blank clown face.

With darkened eyes and a.

Crooked smile. Oh, I hate it. Chunks of red hair spotted his head. As he stepped out of the woods, we screamed. Well, Amy and Sarah did. I just stood there. He tilted his head, observing us. He paced the edge as if pondering his victims.

He was still a good ways away at this point. At this point, I was thinking he was perhaps a fucked up college student, as multiple college students have wandered onto the property before. I forgot to mention that they have a well-known abandoned house on their property as well that people like to visit.

Why?

Without even thinking, I began to shout at him, This is private property. I love your twelve-year-old ass. He's like, Private property, motherfucker. My friends were huddled on the edge of the trampoline, hugging each other and periodically screaming whenever he moved, You need to leave. Do you want to be arrested? I screamed at the approaching clown. You're a queen. As the clown slowly crept out of the woods, he sporadically turned his head to the side as if observing his victims again. I heard Amy Winfrey or something beside me, clearing her throat as she repeated her inaudible sentence a bit louder. I think he has a knife. I whipped my head back to the clown, and sure enough, in his hand, the clown was clutching a long butcher knife, glinting in.

The low light. My friends clung to each other. Sarah had fat.

Tears rolling down her cheeks. I cleared my throat and continued yelling my empty threats. Do you really think that this is worth jail time? It's not too late to turn around and leave. You're a fucking queen. But this bitch was not having it. He was making his way closer and closer. We were too far from the house to run to it. He would have gotten us by then. Oh, my God. Sarah, zip up the trampoline, I commanded. What? Just do it. I don't know what I was thinking, but I guess I thought it would save us 30 seconds of if you were to take the time to unzip it to get to us. That's a knife. Sarah zipped it up. He was now at the edge. His dark eyes taking us in. Then this bitch bent down slowly and went under the trampoline. Under the trampoline. What a fucking dickwad. And do not read further. I'm not going to. Don't read further. Okay. Sarah and Amy were screaming for their life. He had a knife and could potentially cut through the trampoline or stab at us from underneath. But I only had one thought in my mind, jump on his head.

This was my last chance at saving us. I started, But if you jump, I'm like, What if he sticks the knife up and you jump right on the knife? I mean, that's terrible. But what the fuck else are you going to do? I don't know. Because hes why I'm up the side of the net, man.

I started to run where he was.

Jade, what are you doing? Amy called after me. I prepared my leap. I was at least going to make this clown regret messing with us before he killed us. But as I ran over to him and jumped to land on his head, he came back up from under and he pulled off his mask and it was Amy's dad. The end. Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck.

Is wrong with Amy's dad? It was.

Amy's fucking dad. What the fuck is wrong with Amy's dad? I'm going to go on the record and say, Sir, what the fuck is wrong with you? Amy's dad. That's a lie. If my husband did that to my children, I would divorce him. What the fuck are you doing? That is years of fucking right there. Amy's dad for life. What if John did that to your children? These are not my children.

It's not my problem. Not my kids. Not my children. Not my problem. What the fuck? This is a hilarious, horrifying story. Why did he do that to you? Because, you know-That's unhinged behavior. -he was in the CIA. That's unhinged behavior.

I don't know if he should.

Be in the CIA. Oh, my God. I love that story so much. Can you imagine going back home after that? Being like, Mom, Amy's dad dressed up like a fucking clown with a knife, approached us.

From inside of the woods and then crawled underneath the.

Trampoline and.

Then was like, LLJK, it's Amy's dad. I'd be like, Yeah, you're not going to Amy's dad. I was never going to. I would file charges. I don't know what.

Kind, but I.

File them.

Do you remember, though? This is the same year that all.

The clowns were coming out of the woodwork.

Do you remember John? Yeah, I do remember John. John loved this guy. I was going to ask you the same damn question. Do you remember your husband? Do you remember your husband? I mean, he didn't dress up, at least.

No, he didn't. But one night, I think we probably.

Told this story. We were talking about- Probably a long time ago.

All the crazy clown shit going on in 2016. And John went to- You'll get.

To that, Jade. Wait, what? I said, You'll.

Get to that, Jade. She's going back in time.

Oh, yes, I'm so sorry.

I was just like.

I don't understand. Goodbye. Bye, grandma. We were talking about it one night. You'll get to that, Jade. And then John, he.

Went to WalkBubba.

And when he.

Came back, he slammed on the window. Right on the window behind us. -right where.

I was sitting, too. So I behind us. -i yeeted myself into the dining room. He left so hard. He left and laughed. That man loves that shit. He does. Usually, honestly, he's not that great at it because we catch him, but not that night. When he does it, though.

And it works, he loves it.

Oh, man. Oh, man, Jade. Jade, that was great. That stressed me out.

It was the way Jade.

Really built that one up.

She did the dot, dot, dot.

He pulled off his mask, and it was Amy's dad at.

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Com and use code morbid at checkout. That's 20% off of anything you order when you shop better hydration today using promo code morbid at liquidiv. Com. All right, which one should I read next? Which one you read most of these didn't you? -didn't you? -din' you? All right, I'm going to read, Listener tale. That time, the Night stalker almost got my uncle. Wow. What's that? Wow. Almost is the key word here. Almost, wow. Hi, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. This listener tale is attached as a double-space putifah, and I have also attached some pictures of my adorable fur babies. White Dog is Oliver, posing with the book she was named after, and the black dog is Pax, my little soulmate. Their white one only has one eye.

Oh, and.

It's like a momma. Oh, and it reminds me of Mama. Oh, that reminds me of Mama. Oh, my God. They're so beautiful and I.

Like Pax's sweatshirt.

A lot. Oh, my God. Wow, adorable. Adorable. That's the other one. Okay. I put pictures of me and my best friend and my.

Mom and I because.

We are huge fans of your podcast and listen to all the time. Well, thank you all, and we love you. All right. Hello, beautiful ladies. My name is Marion. Feel free to use my name and any others I mention. I want to preface this with the fact that this will likely be a bit long and certain apologies that I don't really mean here. I'm from a small town in Utah, but don't let the fact that I live in Utah fool you into thinking that my life has been simple or boring because it has been anything but. I have so many crazy stories to tell from an accidental, near-death experience or multiple to multiple different, inexplicable, paranoid-esque ones. Today, I'm going to tell you two stories that are not my own, but don't freak. I have many of my own that I may write down and send you guys in the future if you'd be interested. Please. We are always interested. I want to start by saying that I love your podcast for many reasons. Thank you. Thank you. But a huge reason is because of the completely and utterly accepting environment you amazing women have created.

That makes me happy. As I stated before, I grew up and still live in a small and extremely religious city in Utah. Being someone that has always been incredibly into anything fantasyHell yeah. Movies, TV shows, games, and especially books, music that my peers considered strange at Ghost in Blue October. I haven't heard of Blue October. They're good, are they? Things like the horror, thriller, and true crime genres, and I, God forbid, shopped at Hot Topic back when it was more edgy. There's also the frequent usage of the fuck word and cussing is not widely accepted here. I was always somewhat of an outcast and one of them weirdos. I was told my passion for fantasy was childish on a regular basis and that my interest in true crime and similar genres was creepy among other colorful and creative insults. That's so terrible. You know what I say? Fuck them. You know what I say? It sounds like you're fucking cool as hell. Yeah, you are the weirdos, mister. Hell, yeah. And we love you. It didn't help that I'm not subscribed to a certain religion that is wildly popular in my desert state, and that I was always open about that fact and my interests that didn't quite fit.

Into the standards of said religion. Hey, to.

Each their own. Everybody can believe whatever the fuck they want. Let everybody believe whatever the fuck they want. Yep, live and let live. That's what I say. If you didn't already know, it can be considered incredibly taboo in certain highly religious areas of my home state to.

Have more than one piercing in your ears, let alone have some on your face like I do. We'd all be fucked together.

Don't.

Even.

Get me started on the dirty looks and even scrutinizing comments that I get about my tattoos. Another oops, I bet they're beautiful. I have one that's a Nordic rune with beautiful flowers. That sounds gorgeous. That sounds gorgeous. It's a... Excuse me. Its meaning is a piece between a mother and a daughter. My mom and best friend and I got together as my first tattoo. Obsessed. Love. Also, are you a Norwegian girl? We are heavily Norwegian. Hell, yeah.

You're heavily Norwegian. And are genuinely obsessed.

With embracing our cultures. I saw those beautiful blue eyeballs and those pictures. Elena loves a Norwegian. I love a Norwegian. John's a Norwegian.

Married a Norwegian. Had Norwegian. Had Norwegian. Norwegian babies. Ordered those eyeballs.

Special order. Quite literally.

She said that the.

Entire time she was pregnant. I was like.

I want blue eyeballs. All three of them have the gorgeousst eyeballs.

Exactly. All four, really.

Yeah. We are.

Heavily Norwegian and are genuinely obsessed with embracing our.

Culture in.

All ways that we can. Hell, yeah. However, I have.

Had many strangers.

Ask me things along the lines of, Is.

That Satanic or something? Wait, like.

You being Norwegian? Are you Satanic? Those two things mutually excuse. Because you're so otherworldly beautiful, that's why. Jealous. Yeah, I'm Norwegian. Jealous. And plenty more things that are absolutely absurd for a stranger to inquire about. The state isn't all that bad, but it's definitely unique. These are just my personal experiences and opinions here. My amazing mother always told me, Let your.

Freak flag fly, darling, and boy, do.

I with no plans of stopping.

Your mom sounds awesome. Can we get a hell yeah?

-hell yeah. -hell yeah.

To this day.

She's never stopped encouraging me to completely envelop myself and all my interests, hobbies and passions and anything else I love. From going with me to comic-coms when I have no one else to go with, to listening to all my rants and theories about the most recent shows and movies I'm watching and books that I'm reading. I also have.

To give my.

Best friend Cassidy a shout out for playing a huge part in helping me in school and supporting me in all my nerd shit and always reminding me it's never annoying, even when I feel like it is. She's actually assisting me in writing this out because the second story is her grandma's story. She is my partner in crime and my emotional support pitch. I love both of these people. I love all of you. That's so cool. Your mom sounds so fucking cool. That's a great mom. That's the mom I want to be. That's the mom I want to be. That's the mom you are. Thank you. I hope to be that mom. Your best friend.

Sounds rad, too. Yeah, truly. I'm so happy that you have them as support. You need someone in your life, especially when.

You're a nerd who hyperfixates.

On things like, Hello, my name is Elena. You need.

People around you that.

Are like.

No, it's not annoying or weird. I want to.

Hear about it. You need people like that. Well, people that don't want to hear about it are not your friends. They really bum you out when you're the person who's hyper fixating because they make you feel stupid about it, and that sucks.

Exactly, and you shouldn't feel stupid about it.

I'm glad you have cool people around you that are like, Fuck yeah, girl. You deserve it. Anyway, that was.

A lengthy way of stating.

That I regularly felt like an outsider in your typical strange and.

Quiet kid in school that wasn't actually a freaky weirdo, but was often assumed to be. These last couple of years, I've been on a journey of really discovering who I am because I've been 100% allowed to for the first time in my life. When I found your podcast and discovered the accepting of all no matter what environment, it made me realize that I can find in people my own life as well. I love you. You guys played a big part in that. Even though you now have to read through a couple of unnecessary paragraphs of my life story before these tales, I wanted you to know. Thank you.

That was wonderful. It's nice to hear that we created that.

And that what we're wanting to say is coming across how we want to say it.

Exactly. That's awesome. I love you guys. I'm so proud of you guys. I thought you would want to know that what you guys do truly does mean a lot to many people. You're going to make me fucking cry right now. I'm BMSing, okay? For many reasons, you may not have even realized. And even if you don't read this on the podcast, I hope you see it so you can at least read that. I also thought you would need some backstory as to why your loving environment meant so much to me. Thank you for reading and thank you for helping me realize that being interested in these things is normal. Hell, yeah. It is. I'm also realizing as I write this, that it was a long winded way of telling everyone in the morbid universe who my favorite stranger thing character is. I bet I know. Although he wasn't my favorite until he made a Lord of the Rings book reference in the woods because same, Edwards say. Yes. As somebody whose bookshelf is mostly fantasy and who makes strange fantasy references people usually don't understand, this spoke to me on a cellular level. All right, now that I've accidentally rambling on a bit too long, let's get into the story.

You did not ramble at all.

That.

Was amazing. The crazy story of the time that my mom's brother was nearly true crime in the nighttime by none other than the infamous Richard Vermirais, aka The Night stalker. You read that right. Drunk me, coined the phrase, true crime in the nighttime, and sober me has never stopped using it since. Around the time The Night stalker was doing his asshole true crime things, my mom was a cute little fifth grader living in California. My young mother was obviously horrified about what could happen to her and her two siblings and her mother. Her dad didn't live with them, but I honestly don't think any of them were too concerned about that, ho. I have talked to her about this and all of her memories of the time, which she still remembers vividly. I thought you guys might find an inside perspective from someone who was directly affected and traumatized by the horrible things this man did. Interesting. She can still recall the voices of reporters on the news with startling accuracy and remembers almost every detail about the case, including the fact that it was people in the neighborhood not too far away from her own that finally took down that mother fucking living personification of Greasy Ballgwater.

The best takedown of a piece of shit in history.

That video is the best ever. I wish every was caught like that.

I do too.

California baby. That's great.

Unfortunately, before he was taken down in an epic citizens arrest, my mom was not sleeping at night. She would stay up all night staring into her backyard and watching the family dog to see if anything startled her. She assumed that if anyone were to try to break in, that the dog would be alerted. The fact that she was five years old and worried about this- I'm fifth grade. Oh, fifth grade. Okay, I'm silly. But either way. I mean, still, you're so young. You're like 10 or 11. I don't fucking know. You're so young. Now, there was one drury night that my grandma was out of the house for a little while. My 10 or 11-year-old mom, see, I should have fucking read that first, was staring out the window at the backyard. Her eyes trained on the family's sleeping golden retriever. There was a stalky tree right outside of her bedroom window, and the leaves began to rustle. The only thing her young brain could think of was that the noise had belonged to the night stalker. There was no other possibility. It couldn't have been her black cat putty who loved being outside and climbing trees.

Of course, when in a state of current terror and constant general panic, the human brain is seldom wired to think clearly. So she did what any terrified, 10-ish-year-old kid would do, and she probably called the police and told them that the night stalker was trying to break into her house. Honestly, good for her. You know what? You'd rather be safe than sorry. You'd rather.

Be safe than sorry.

Within a few minutes, the police showed up. The night stalker was nowhere to be found, but better safe than sorry.

There you go, overreact.

Or in this case, serial murder. The police did their due diligence and searched the premises before clearing it. But my mother's anxieties did not stop there. Far from it. She did not sleep for months because of her ongoing fears. If he were to show up at her house, she wanted to know immediately so she could alert the rest of her family and hopefully keep them safe. Luckily, he never did show up at their house. She remembers hearing about every single time there were new victims on the news and her terror rising, wondering if her family would be next.

That must have been awful.

Seriously. One night, her older brother decided he was going to stay over at a friend's house. This was a little wor to be safe for obvious reasons, but they promised to be safe, so my grandma okayed it. You can imagine the horror of the next morning when they heard that the night stalker had struck again on the same street where my uncle had stayed the night before. Dickle Ramirez had struck on that street in the house that was right next door to the one my uncle had slept over at. There is some debate between my mom and grandma about whether it was the house right next door or if it was the one two houses down. Either way. But my mom says she's positive it was next door, so we'll go.

With that. I believe your mom.

Honestly. It's so fortunate that he didn't become a victim, but it is extremely unfortunate that the next door neighbors did. My mom can't remember the name of the family that this did end up happen, excuse me, that did end up his victims, but does remember that her family somewhat knew them. Of course, we're all so thankful he didn't choose the house my uncle was in, but it's weird to feel glad about it because it was another family and people who also didn't deserve it instead.

That's so awful.

I know. There are undoubtedly a lot of conflicting emotions there.

It's like survivor's guilt.

It is, yeah. Like a different form of it. My uncle is now grown up to be a cop who has taken down some really awful dudes. So big that he and his family had to go to a witness protection once, which is part of the reason why the only names I've given are me and my best friends. Damn. That's wild. My mom has grown up to be an amazing nurse who helped so many people. And same with my aunt. My grandma is still around, and even though we don't always see eye to eye, we do generally get along because they're all always there for me whenever I need them. I can't imagine what would have happened if any of them had been the victim of that shit-kicking ass clown.

Shit-kicking ass clown is exactly.

What he was. Love that so much. Now, if you aren't tired of my writing yet, then I have another story about someone else I know who was almost true-crined in the nighttime by an infamous serial killer here in Utah. His name was Ted Bundy. You may have heard of him.

Never heard of him. No.

Some backstory to how I know this one. I met my current best friend close to six years ago when I was in juniorwhen I was a junior in high school. I met her through a coworker, and a little bit later, she became a coworker as well. We were acquaintances for a little while, and then it wasn't long until we were best fucking friends. It's crazy how fast I went from thinking she was a chill person I wanted to know better to suddenly knowing that if anyone even looked at her wrong, I would promptly be ready to aggressively throw these hands directly into their face. These hands are a class-two weapon, and I am not afraid to use them. Hell, yeah. Now back to the story. This particular evening, Bundy decided to wait for a victim in the parking lot of Viewmont High School in Centerville, Utah. This is about five minutes from where I live now. Holy shit, that's crazy. My friend's grandma was going to drill practice at the school, which was her high school at the time. When she got out of the car, he approached her and gave his usual crusty-dusty lines about needing help to fix his lame car.

She basically told him, Sorry, I don't know anything about cars. Got to go. I'm late. And continued hurrying into the school. If you've ever been on a drill team or met someone in charge of one, you know that they do not fuck around.

She was like, Nope, I got to go.

She was like, I am late and I must go. I think even the most selfless and helpful person on this planet would not have stopped to help him if they were keeping the coach of a drill team waiting. There you go. Also, get inside that school girl. Fresh air is for dead people. By the time she left, he was no longer there. Sadly, he did come back later that night and take a different girl from Vumont who did theater and was heading home after a school play. She participated in.

I think it was Deborah Kent.

Yeah, I.

Think she was only like 17 years old.

So crazy. When I.

Think she was there, actually, if I remember correctly, she was picking up her brother from school. From the play, I think it was. Like, he was in the play. Yeah, like from the play. I think he was in the play. The play was going on and she was picking him.

Up, I believe. That's so sad.

I think she was one that he strangely kept at his home for a little while. They don't know exactly how long. It was a very strange one. He had such.

A weird... Everything was a little bit different with each case. It was very strange. It's just.

Scary and so sad. Oh, I'm 17.

Oh, my God, you're so young. Your whole life ahead of you. Well, when she heard about the missing girl, she immediately thought about the man in the parking lot and the fact that the girl went missing from her school. She then remembered there was a serial killer at large and thought that was most likely him and could have easily been her. Once that intolerable bastard was caught and his face was plastered all over the news, her grandma recognized him and the car they said he drove. She wasn't one to give any stranger the time of day because fuck people, you don't know. But if she had simply been on time to her drill practice, she could have been 10:30 victim that night. Again, I'm glad she wasn't his victim because I wouldn't have my best friend if she had been. But just like my uncle, it's hard to be completely glad when you know that someone else was still victimized instead. Thank you, ladies, for taking the time to read this long fucking thing and I hope it wasn't too long or boring. Cassidy and I absolutely love your podcast, and I think we'd shit our grown ass pants if we heard you all reading it in your amazing storytelling voices.

Your banter is the best to remind us of ourselves and the way we constantly bounce off of each other. If you'd like to hear any supernatural, psychic, or near-death experience stories, yes, please, then we would be happy to send them to you. Please do. I've also attached pictures of my adorable animals because they deserve some recognition for their adorableness. Always. We love them. Love them. We also have a haunted, spooky road here in good old Utah if you'd like to hear about it. Yes. Congrats to Ash and Drew on the engagement/wedding. Thank you. And congrats to Elena on the book. Thanks. My nerd ass bought it and read it so fast that my mom and I are praying for a sequel.

You are getting one.

I have read a lot of the sequel, and it is great. I hope to be a published author one day, too, and seeing other people succeed is always inspiring and motivating.

Hell, yeah, you.

Can do it. Ps, I am obsessed with the cover. Oh, thank you. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you're almost true-crimes in the nighttime. Love Cassidy and Marion.

Holy shit. That was so good.

I love you guys. You're so cute. I love you guys.

All right, so my next listener tale is called Girl, I Thought I Was Dead.

Girl, I'm glad you're not.

It says, Hey, guys, it's me. You're non-binary. They, them, pal. Amaly. Amaly. Thank you for that pronunciation. You said pronounced like Emily, but with an A in the beginning.

Amaly. I know a person named Amaly, so I'm assuming.

It says, Before I begin my I thought I died and saw Jesus story, I have to add the obligatory I love you segment. Morbid was the first podcast I ever listened to, and ma'am, you all set the bar way too high for other podcasts. Thank you so much. Thank you so much. Listening to Morbid is like talking to my best friends. Because we are your best friends. We are. You guys are also part of what inspired me to study the criminology program at my university. Hell, yeah.

Well, you guys and the fact that I was raised watching CSI before bedtime since kindergarten. Relatable. Only kid in middle school that knew what the English word corpus... Hold on. Sorry, I'm reading this too far away from my old eyes. That knew what the English words were for corpse, tombstone, graveyard, and autopsy. Needless to say that our English teacher was impressed yet slightly worried about that. But hey, making people a wee bit worried mixed with scared is what this trash mammal does best, even without even trying. Some call it actively making poor life choices, but I like to think of it like future Amelie's problem. Anyway, below, I've added my story in the form of a putifah. Feel free to shorten it if you want. Now, read and enjoy, please. And sorry for spelling grammar errors. Never be sorry. All the best, Amelie. Let's see. It says, Act 1, you beautiful human. Oh, my God. X, you separated these two. That's cool. History of St. Lucia.

I was just looking at a property in St. Lucia not to.

Buy.

To- I was like, What the fuck? I'm going to go buy a property in St. Lucia. I literally.

Was like, What.

The fuck? Your face is hilarious.

I was just looking at a property in St. Lucia. I was like, Who are you?

Who the fuck are you?

Just shook me to my core.

Yeah, I'm moving. It's just St.

Lucia.

What? There's this really cool... I don't know if you call it a resort. That's why I just said property. But it's like a vacation place where you can stay and there's no walls in the hotel room and you have a view of this mountain. I think it's called.

Jade Mountain.

Oh, that's beautiful. It looks cool. I was.

Like, whoa. I think they're talking about a celebration of St.

Lucia. I'd like to go now.

I didn't want to come you. I was like, I'm going to let her finish.

You shouldn't have let me finish. Sometimes you can not let me finish. But yes, St. Lucia is- But sometimes you can not let me finish. This show is sponsored by Care of. Care of is a subscription service that ships high-quality, personalized vitamins, supplements, and powders conveniently to your door every single month. New Year's is right around the corner. I can't believe it. Care of wants to celebrate you with a personalized experience that will help you feel like you're youest. Push against sameness and celebrate what makes each of us unique. All you have to do to get started is take a short simple online quiz about your lifestyle and health goals, and Care of will give you doctor-backed recommendations. It's that easy, and that is exactly what I did. I absolutely love a little morning ritual and Care of just fit completely seamlessly into my morning ritual. I went online, I took the quiz, I answered all the questions about myself because who knows me better than me. I got the whole list of the vitamins and supplements that I should be taking. I said, Check out. I'll take them all. Then they came to my door.

Like I said, I just put them right in my morning routine. I feel so good. I feel so healthy and I feel like they really care about me because it's care of. For 50% off your first care of order, go to takecareof. Com and enter code Morbid50. Again, that's 50% off your first care of order by going to takecareof. Com and enter code Morbid50. This show is sponsored by BetterHelp. I feel like every single holiday season you should give yourself at least one gift at least. If you already got yourself a gift, but you said, I could go for one more, why not go for therapy? Whether or not your family gives gifts during the holidays, you get to define how you give to yourself. The holidays are a great time to do that. Whether it's by starting therapy, going easier on yourself during those tough moments, or treating yourself to a day of complete rest, remember to give yourself some love this holiday season. I think it is so important to take extra care of yourself during the holidays because you're so focused on taking care of everybody else. That is awesome, but you're not going to be able to take care of everybody else if you don't put yourself first and take care of you, my baby.

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I tried to say that as nice as I could. This story takes place on the 13th of December 2018. Here in Sweden every year, we celebrate St. Lucia, which I know is not really something you guys have in the US of A, so I'll add a bit of background. Feel free to skip if I bore you. Never. I love this stuff. Also know that I've not slept well, so things might be wilding.

Things are always wilding in these parts, as you just saw.

As you just heard. St. Lucia is said to have lived in Cicily between the years 286 to 304. Picture it. So if I get things wrong about the legend, just remember that I've never met the woman. Anyway, this dude, whoa, diocletain-Tinus.

Diocletain-tinius. Tinius. Penius. I don't know. You know what? -dioclinac...

-dioclinac.

-diocletaneous. -diocletaneous or tenacious? -tenacious?

-tenacious, D. -tenacious, D-O.

Wait, you know what exists?

-pronouncenames. Com. -pronouncenames. Com. We're going to do this. I hope we get the French guy.

I do, too. I love that guy.

This is easy.

This is easy.

He's a daddy either way. I don't know if you're supposed to say that about gods, but he is. You can. I did. All right, are you ready? Diocletian. We were nowhere.

Near that. Well, that, diacletian. But you know what? They gave me a good.

Little.

Ak, one of the last Roman emperors who just didn't vibe with Christianity.

Oh, so he is a Zadi.

Yeah, there you go. He gave the order to burn all Christian books. Churches were to be torn, and leaders of.

Christianity were to be killed. Okay, not Zadi energy. That is the opposite of Zadi energy. Zadi doesn't kill. Zadi shall not kill.

As an empath, I think he did not like Christianity, but I don't know.

I feel like I'd go on a limb there.

Our girl, Lucia, name meaning something like carrier of light, remember this, came from a relatively well-off family, work, and was raised by a mother since her father died when she was young, not work. As a child, she took a vow of chastity and wish to give to the poor. This was not something she told anyone, even her own mother. This ended up as a wee problem when she grew up and her mother wanted to marry her off to a man who was not Christian. But our girl was able to postpone the engagement every time while praying to God to save her from this marriage. Her mother, however, got sick with an incurable disease. After some persuading by Lucia, they went to St. Agathes, I hope I'm saying this right, grave to pray for a cure. St. Agathes?

I'm going to look it up.

Probably Agathes. Oh, here we go. Can I get your autograph?

No, you can't get my autograph. You're supposed to sign as to make you pay him. The fuck? For the world's names. Com. Agatha.

Agatha? Leave all that down. All right, Agathes.

You're supposed to sign as.

To make you pay him. Mikey just goes, What has happened?

It's like a preview for an A24 movie.

So St. Agathes is said to have shown themselves to Lucia, saying something like, Cess, why are you asking me when your faith has already.

Healed her?

Direct quote. And so her mother was healed and promised Lucia that she wouldn't have to get married. Instead, the dowry was given to the in need in Cicily. Picture it. The suitor was real mad that he was rejected, cue, I roll, and taddled on her to our guy.

That guy. Diaclinicias, right?

Sounds awesome. Lucia was then arrested and tortured. However, she never gave up her faith. She was then ordered to become a sex worker at a brothel. Not really how I would personally describe what happened. As she was to be taken to the brothel, she was placed in this like, cart thing, can't remember the English word for it, that was to be pulled by oxens. It was discovered that the cart was frozen to the ground. Then boiling oil was instead poured on her, but she was not hurt. Last attempt to kill her was to stab her with a sword straight through her neck, but she did not die, not until someone came to do the anointing of the sick. Other versions of the legend include one where a man is said to have fallen in love with her eyes, which prompted her to tear her eyes out and send them to him on a plate. That is my version of the story.

That's bad bitch energy. I mean, it's like you have the most beautiful eyes, and you just look right at him, and then you rip them off of your fucking face, and you're like, Eat them if you think.

They're so beautiful. You like my eyes? Eat them. Now, apparently this made the man go and get baptized.

I bet it fucking did. That man found Jesus.

Apparently, she was later given new, even more beautiful eyes, by a miracle.

So you rip your eyes out and then you get new ones? Yeah. Reduce or use recycle. She's like, Use.

These up. Then she's like, I would like.

New ones, please. The thought of somebody plopping their eyes out really upsets me.

Now, during the 1300s in Sweden, we celebrated Lucia during one of the darkest nights in order to call for the light to scare off the evils in the dark. I love Sweden. Today we celebrate Lucia in church and even in schools.

Did you guys all rip your eyes?

I hope not. Also, you know who's from Sweden.

Tobias.

Forge. Yeah, we love.

Sweden over here. I could never forget.

In schools, all participating children are dressed up in these white dresses. They wrote question mark. With traditionally all the girls wearing wreaths. Young kids usually wear wreaths that are more sparkly because why not? Hell, yeah. The guys wear this cone-looking hat with stars.

That's fun as fuck.

That sounds like a wizard hat.

Sounds like a.

Great time. It's like Merlin. In kindergarten, you can sometimes even see some kids dressed as mini Santas or even Gingerbread Men.

No, America sucks.

Anyways, all the girls also wear this red ribbon around their waist that symbolizes the blood Lucia shed for.

Her face. That's metal.

They say, I know, really metal.

I actually didn't even read that when I said that.

Everyone also carries one lit candle during the whole thing. Electric ones for the kiddos. That's smart. This also causes multiple people to faint every year, also very metal of us. No one really does anything to stop this.

Wait, but why do you guys faint?

I don't know. I love that they said also very metal They don't give you refreshments. No one really does anything to stop this? We just have buckets of water close by and tell everyone that if they feel dizzy to blow their candle out for a while. Because they're all walking around with a lit candle in a room together. It's getting hot and they're dressed in these things. It is wild. In the very front of this choir is the Lucia, traditionally played by a girl. But you know what? It's 2023, so let's skip the boy-vers-girl thing. Hell, yeah. The Lucia is dressed in the same white gown and red ribbon, but instead of a wreath, they wear this crown with seven lit candles on it. That's danger. Anyway, this Lucia choir then sings a bunch of songs, and then we eat these really good saffron buns to celebrate.

Have you ever had saffron?

I have. It's delicious. It is. Act two, vibing with Jesus.

Never done that.

So in 2018, when I, a then-15-year-old, was part of the local church's youth choir, I was to be that year's Lucia. Oh, wow. This was big for me since I had never been Lucia, after some kids said that I can't be Lucia since I'm brown. Fuck them. Me being South Asian and that I should be a gingerbread man instead. What a bunch of racist brats. Yes, I was a gingerbread man during Lucia in kindergarten. Anyway, casual racism aside, I was hyped to be the Lucia. That is a lot of racism.

Yeah, get you a you who can do both. Hell, yeah.

However, I also have a record of random health problems and basically proof that survival of the fittest doesn't really work in a modern society, some of which include random dizziness. But I never fainted, at least, foreshadowing. This was obviously something we worried about, so we made sure that during the performance, we had someone in the very front making sure that I don't faint and is ready with supplying me with water to drink and to make sure that I don't get turned into South Asian barbecue by seven candles on my head. In this case, it was a priest. Let me just say, she looked at me and kept moving her head around like we were in a one versus one basketball match.

She was like, I'm not letting you go down, baby. No way.

We begin with the whole church lights out. There were like, I think, 100 to 200 people in the audience. When everyone was seated, we lit our candles and started walking and singing. All good, a bit nervous, but you know what a dark church with only a few candles lit while we are singing? Our whole show was also without any instrument, is a vibe. We sang a couple of songs. All as well, the priest is still doing her little moves to check if I was good, so I gave her a thumbs up. But then I started feeling a bit warm and soon I felt like the world was spinning. At this point, I was like, Oh, this is not ideal. I remember looking at the priests, still singing and just shaking my head to show all is not well anymore. Then it all got dark. When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was the blurry figure of a woman with long blonde hair, smiling, looking down at me and behind her, I saw Jesus on the crucifix and this bright light. The fuck. At this point, I remember thinking, Well, I guess I'm dead.

Jesus and an angel are here to collect my soul. I was also confused, not by the fact that I had apparently died. No, no, no. But because as I may have failed to mention earlier, I am Buddhist. How hard did I die to see someone else's God? Why was I a Buddhist in a Christian choir? I don't know. I was just vibing. But was I not supposed to be reincarnated? Did I turn the wrong corner in the afterlife? Oh, no. During this confusion, the angel began speaking to me. She said in a calm voice, Hey, Amaly, do you know who I am? I was silent since, well, me dying and ending up in Christian heaven, like where's Buddha? She then laughs a bit at my silence before saying, No, of course not. We've never met before. Okay, then why do you ask me? I mean, you all not get some training from God before doing this? How can you be underfunded in heaven? I can take being dead like, Oh, chill. But do you all not have a functional working system up here? Damn. During my mental thyroid, the angel then says, You fainted. Oh, I'm alive.

Chill. I fainted? That's neat. Never done that before.

I'm alive. Chill. Being alive is the least.

Chill ever. I fainted. That's neat. Never done that before. Turns out the angel was a doctor or something. Something who was apparently in the crowd, and the light was just the ceiling lamps that were turned down after I fainted.

You came, too. You thought you died, but this was really just you coming, too, and.

Lighting the lights.

You're still Buddhist. I'm still Buddhist.

You're good. You're okay. They said, It's just the ceiling lamps that were turned on after I fainted. Well, what I saw as Jesus was just chilling was the crucifix that hung from the ceiling. They were to church. While my vision was almost completely back to normal, I finally started to notice that the show was still going on. It must. Everyone was still singing, and when the current song was done, my choir teacher ran up to me and asked, You want to rest or do you want to keep going? I, as the rational person I am, and knowing that, Oh, boy, I'm still dizzy, said, Yeah, sure, let's keep going. Oh, my God. You can't stop a they from a slave.

Fucking iconic behavior. Iconic. As I got.

Helped up, I noticed that they had removed the crown. Apparently, as I fainted, my choir teacher was able to run up and scoop up the crown before I hit the floor. Honestly, very impressive. As I stood up, I felt the priests putting on the crown. I heard the sound of my teacher using the lighter to light the candles, which I did not know they were going to do since it all went so well the first time. But in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. When all the candles were lit, a man in the audience yelled out, Hooray for the Lucia! And started applauding. With that confidence boost, I decided that I will make it through the show, Candles on Fire or Not. We kept singing, and after the show was done, I was damn proud of myself. I got some minor, What are you doing? Sit down and rest. This is the last time you were Lucia, from my friends. But the adrenaline kept me alive and full of energy. That day I got lots of hugs from random people in the audience saying that they were so proud of me. Honestly, writing this, I still am smiling by the kindness of everyone who was there.

Apparently, from what I heard, I fainted very elegantly. A dramatic back of my hand to my forehead and all. Oh, hell, yeah. Some thought for a few seconds it was part of the show because it was so theatrical. At least I kept slaying till the.

Very end. Can't stop a day from a sly. I love that so much. I love that.

This may not have been the normal crime or supernatural listener tale, but hey, I thought believing I saw the wrong afterlife was close enough. It was. It absolutely was. I hope you enjoyed reading it. And if not, I included another file in my mail with an attempt of animating one of my favorite morbid moments. And as always, keep it weird. But not so weird you think you died and came to the wrong afterlife. That's incredible. That was amazing.

I'm quite literally obsessed with you.

Truly amazing. Just the way you wrote that is chef's kiss.

So good. So good. Chef's kiss.

I'm also looking up Amaly because they gave us.

Their Instagram. I was literally just going to do that.

Oh, this is it. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

That's so cool. This is the coolest.

They drew us as two superheroes.

I liked it.

I am also liking it and following.

You because... You made us look good. You're my best friend now. You made us look awesome. You're my best.

Friend now. You are really talented.

That's so impressive.

Holy shit.

That's so cool. The detail on my belt is a plancheit. Hell, yeah. That's so fun. You are also ripped. Look at.

Your arms. That's badass. And I love.

That color. I know, and that's when I had my purple hair.

That's awesome. Thank you so much for doing that. I know, thank you.

You're.

Talented. Crazy talented.

You are crazy talented. Do you ever feel like money is just flying out of your bank account and you have absolutely no idea where it's going? Well, I know. I know exactly what it is. It's all of those subscriptions. Think about it. Between streaming services, fitness apps, delivery services, parenting apps, it is freaking endless. I'm also guilty of this. I used Rocket Money to help me find out what subscriptions I'm actually spending money on. Let me tell you, baby, it was an eye-opening experience. I had them cancel the ones that I didn't want anymore, though. Rocket Money is a personal finance app that finds and cancels your unwanted subscriptions, monitors your spending, and helps you lower your bills. I can see all of my subscriptions in one place, and if I see something that I don't want, I can cancel it with a tap, just a little tap. I never have to get on the phone with customer service, and that in and of itself is a gift to me. They'll even try to get you a refund for the last couple of months of wasted money and negotiate to lower your bills for you by up to 20%.

All you have to do is take a picture of your bill and Rocket Money takes care of the rest. I love them. Rocket Money has over five million users and has helped save its members an average of $720 a year with over $500 million in canceled subscriptions. Stop wasting money on things that you don't use. Cancel your unwanted subscriptions by going to rocketmoney. Com/morbid. That's rocketmoney. Com/morbid. Rocketmoney. Com/morbid. I'm going to read my next listener tale, How a Butterknife and my friends, Manly Yell, probably saved my life. Let's go. I'm just making sure I can read the name. Let's go. Let's as I can. Hello, weirdos. My name is Riley. Feel free to use my name and the names in the story. I have attached a double-spaced Pudifah to this email. Also, do people usually write Pudifah? Or do you just read Pudifah as Pudifah? I need to know. Yes, I read PDF as Pudifah, and when people write Putifah, I read it as Putifah. Basically, no matter what you say, we'll say Putifah. Anyways, I will absolutely freak out if this gets read on your podcast. I've been listening for years and absolutely adore you guys.

Your woody banter and humor has me almost peeing my pants and laughing out loud to myself, which often creeps my fiancé out when I have air pods in because it just sounds like I'm randomly laughing standing in the middle of the kitchen. I'm realizing that last sentence might not make sense, so let me explain that. We live in a house built in 1895, and some very creepy stuff has been happening. My fiancée came up to me the day after we moved in and said, Why did you just say my name? I calmly said, I did not. I was on the other side of the house, and he says, Someone or something. Spuki. Just whispered his name right into his ear. We both about pooped our pants and the weird stuff has continued. My fiancé has always said he will believe in ghosts once he experiences something, and boy, has he? I'm down with the spooky stuff as long as it makes him finally realize that ghost spirits or whatever you want to call them are real. I just keep talking out loud to the ghost saying, Please just let me know what you need in a non-creepy way, and I can do it for you.

But enough of the creepy whispering and knocking things over when I'm alone and enjoying some of that sweet green Washington herb. If anything major happens, I will be sure to write it in again, but as of now, I think that it is a nice ghost. Anyways, that is not what this story is about, so let's get into it. How a butter knife and my friends' manly yell probably saved my life. I met my best friend, Hannah, during my freshman year of college at the University of Arizona. We both didn't love the college or the vibe, so halfway through our first year, we said, screw it, and both applied to study abroad in Orvieto, Italy.

That sounded nice. I hope.

I liked it. Okay, cool. Thanks. For the first semester of sophomore year. Fast forward a few months, and we both got accepted to study abroad and we were working our summer jobs in order to pay for all the amazing things we were about to experience in Italy. We were only 19, so one of the main things we were excited about was that we could legally be able to drink. I mean, seriously, when we landed in Rome, the first thing we did was go to the bar and get a drink before even checking if our train was on schedule. But I digress. We get to Orvieta, I hope. Can you look it up for me? -orvieto. -you're welcome. -orvieto. I like it. I don't know if in Italy you roll your R like that, so I won't. We get to Orvieto, right? Yeah. Orvieto. Got it. We meet all of our roommates and are loving experiencing the culture, food and people in the small town of Orvieto. During the month of October, we got a fall break, which meant we got two weeks off of school to travel and experience life abroad. Our roommate, Allison, me, and Hannah, all decided it would be fun to travel to Greece for part of our fall break.

We would first fly to Athens and stay there for a few nights, and then from Athens, we would fly to Mymos. We booked our Airbnb, Airbnbs for both Athens and Mymos. Before we knew it, we were on our flight to Athens. When we got to Athens, we had to take a train from the airport to where we were staying. This was a challenge because none of us could speak or read Greek. But after a few hours, we finally figured it out and we're stepping off the train into beautiful, no, not beautiful. We were stepping into what we did not know at the time was one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Greece. Great. Awesome. It was dark and we pretty much sprinted to our Airbnb from the train station and did not leave until the next morning to go into the actual town of Athens and explore. Ha, trick to you, nothing bad happens in Athens, even though it would have made more sense based on where we were staying. Now it's time to go to Myconos. Myconos. Myconos. It just reminds me of... Wasn't that where Lindsay Lohan's fucking... Goddammit, reality show was? Oh, was it?

Wasn't it? The one that she had with MTV? I never finished watching it, but I think it was in Myconos.

I don't think I ever actually watched it. I only listened to Supp-.

-sexy, unique podcast. -unequely, cover it. I love that show. I think it was Myconos. We get on our plan to fly from Athens to Mykanos. I meant to say plane. Then we find our beautiful Airbnb. It's a ground level studio that opens up to the blue and white cobblestone streets of Greece with blue shutters, and we basically realize we are living out our Mama Mia dreams. Hell, yeah, that's awesome. The studio is one room, and in that room is the kitchen and an area for three twin beds. Then there's a little door off to the side where the bathroom is. The kitchen is near the front door, and there's a little sink with shutters above it. Now, it is important to note for the story that most windows in Greece are just shutters. Two shutters on the inside and two on the outside that hook together. There is no glass. We're settling into our Airbnb, and it's about 8:00 PM when we decide we should go out for some drinks. We start walking around the town and find this bar that's right on the water. When we walk in, there's a small wedding party going on, and they're handing out free drinks to everyone and blasting Mama Mia.

Mama Mia, here I go again. Staying at this bar was an obvious and easy choice. All three of us are having the best time drinking, meeting people from all over the world and just dancing the night away. Around 1:00 AM, we decide that it's time to go back to our Airbnb, so we head out. After walking for a minute, we realize we are not too sure how to get home. But the island is small and we generally know where our place is. We keep walking and something in my gut tells me to turn around. When I do, I see a man walking just far away enough from us to notice him. He shouts at us, Hi, girls. Do you need some help? Just like that. I don't know, it just came to me- Hi, girls. He's in Greece. Hi, girls, do.

You need some help? You hear that in Greece? Ron. That's not Greece.

I don't know, I just wanted to get it like that. My morbid brain immediately jumps into action and I say, No, we are fine. Screw the thank you and being polite. There's no room to be nice when it's dark and you're lost in a different country. Bye. We keep walking and are chatting to each other when I turn around again and the man is still behind us. We know where we are now and are only about one minute from our place, and my gut was telling me, don't show him where you live.

Hell, yeah.

You get it. There's a corner coming up, and as I turn to take it, I yank both of my friends by their shirts around the corner, and we couch down behind a small wall to hide. Good for you. The man walks right past us. We realize our front door is directly across from where we are. Once the man is out of sight, me and my friends run to the front door, unlock it, and go inside. My heart is racing. Hannah goes to lay down in one of the beds, but I suggest to Allison that we barricade the door and the windows so if he somehow saw where we live and tries to get in, then all the stuff will fall over and wake us up. Smart. Very smart. So we stack our suitcases and chairs in front of the front door, and then we stack plates and cups in front of the window above the sink.

That's so smart. That was really smart. That's what my mom did in Boston. When the Boston Strangler was around.

I was just thinking that. To think of that after a night of drinking is especially. I'm like.

Hell, yeah. That's very impressive.

We also agree that we should grab some type of defense tool from the kitchen. But when we begin looking for something, all the Airbnb has is fricking butter knives. Butter knives. I can't even cut butter straight out of the fridge with a butter knife, but it'll have to do. Allison and I grab the butter knives, setting one next to peacefully sleeping Hannah, and we get into our beds. We decide to keep the lights on because that shit was scary. After about 30 minutes, we both fall asleep. Around 4:00 AM, I wake up and hear a noise. It sounds like the shutters above the sink are banging against each other. I decide to wake Allison up and I say, Hey, do you hear that noise? It sounds like the shutters are moving. She's half asleep and says, It's probably just the wind. In my mind, I'm thinking, The wind? We just got followed home and barricaded the door in fear, but also she could be right and I'm probably paranoid. I get back into my bed and keep my eyes locked on the shutters above the kitchen sink. As I do, the banging gets louder and I see them begin to shake in and out of the window slot.

This time, I spring out of bed with my butter knife and shake Allison awake. She immediately looks at the shutters and goes, Okay, probably not the wind. We both quietly and slowly walk over to the shutters, Allison in front and me directly behind her. Our pitiful butter knives are held up near our ears and Allisons and opens the shutters.

You went from ears to ears.

This.

Is like ees.

Ears. When you really have to pronounce an R for some reason, it does just go like Southern.

It gets had.

Ears. It's hard.

The pronouns. Hard and ar.

I must go. There, halfway through our window is the man who followed us home with a black ski mask pulled over his face. Oh, fuck that. Kill him. We lock eyes, and my friend Allison lets out the manliest scream yell that I have ever heard.

Maybe it was her that was saying that earlier.

Hey, girls.

Hey, girls. That was Allison.

She's like, Oh. What is a manly yell? You see this intruder in your.

Window and you're just like...

The face that went along with that just made me spit everywhere. Oh, man. The man freezes, then quickly backs out of the shutters and runs down the street. Allison, I slip. The shutters closed and run to grab our phones. Hannah is awake at this point. We're all pretty much just shitting our pants.

The manly screaming for me. We huddle up.

The bed as Allison calls the police with the language barriers, making it impossible for them to know where we're located. The police simply say that they're on their way and hang up. At this point, it's about 4:30 AM. I FaceTime my mom to let her know what's going on, and she is freaking out, but also calming me down. I start to feel sick, partially because my hangover is starting to make an appearance and partially because I'm traumatized and I throw up in the.

Trash can. I would, too.

Honestly, 30 minutes later, the police still aren't there. We call them back and they ask us if we can go outside in the dark to try to find them. I grabbed the phone. It was not my best moment. I'd start yelling at them to freaking find us before the man comes back in that, No, I will not be going outside when he could be waiting right there.

Honestly, your finest moment. Don't worry.

About it. All the police say is that they'll continue to try to find us. We all sit on the bed waiting for them to arrive, keeping in contact with our family. When the police finally do arrive, it is 8:00 AM. Yep, 8:00 AM. It took them over three hours to find us when we were literally in the heart of Myconos. Wow, that's upsetting. When they get there, they ask us questions and we try to explain what happened to the best of our ability. When we finally go outside, we see a huge black footprint on the window platform where he tried to come in. That's terrifying. They take our statements and leave saying they'll update us if they find anything. We never heard from them again. Awesome. After the police left, we notified the Airbnb host about what happened, and she was just an angel. She gave us a full refund, apologized profusely, saying that nothing like this has ever happened at the Airbnb, and even recommended a safe hotel on the island. What a mama bear. We got out of that Airbnb so fast and went to check into the hotel. That night in the hotel, we barricaded everything again just in case, and all slept huddled together.

We ended up staying in Myconos, and it still is my favorite place I visited while studying abroad, so don't let this story stop you from going. Maybe just know where your Airbnb is and get home before 1:00 AM. There you go. I'm still left wondering what he wanted, us, our passports, money? Who knows? All I know is screw that guy. Truly. Honestly. When we got back home from studying abroad, I got broken into two more times. No, I was not drunk. Yes, the doors were locked. Yes, I was being smart and safe. I guess I just attracted to this stuff.

I've gone to therapy. Wow, the odds.

For real. I've gone to therapy because having this happen to you three times messes with you pretty bad, and I'm happy to say that I'm doing better. Oh, I'm glad. We got a dog. Her name is Daisy, and she makes me feel so safe.

-dogs.

Are the best. -they know.

They'll fuck people up.

For you. She actually scared the guy off during the second break in. -hell, yeah, Daisy. -hell, yeah, Daisy. I included pictures of her and my two other kitty cats as well as the footprint on the next page. Also, we just got Simply Safe, and I love.

That shit. Hell, yeah.

It's the best. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed my tale, and thank you. Take it away, Ash. Keep it weird, but not to worry that you try to live out your Mama Mia dreams, and then a creepy man follows you home and all you have to defend yourself is butterknives and the police don't find you for over.

Three hours by. Whoa. Oh, my God. Daisy is a beautiful, beautiful muffin that I literally just want to snuggle.

I love her, Daisy May.

Forever. And that shoeprint is horrifying.

Oh, my God. And your cats, Theo, Ted, and Mr. Munchy Man. Mr. Munchy Man. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. That is a straight-up footprint.

That man had a.

Huge ass foot. Yeah, that's scary.

As hell. Oh, my God. You're so pretty.

I don't.

Like that. You have great hair.

You have.

Great hair. Great hair. Wow, that was absolutely terrifying.

Yeah.

He did it.

He did it.

Well, that was a fantastical installment of Listen-A-Tales.

It was slightly international at times.

Yeah, most.

Times, right? Yeah, it was by slightly. I mean, it was international sometimes. Not slightly. It's never slightly international. It was fully international sometimes. Oh, my God. But wow, you guys. Some of those were hilarious. Some of those were terrifying. Yeah. Thank you for sending them in.

Amy's fucking dad. I'm stuck on Amy's Dad. I know mine.

Were silly, goofy.

What the.

Hell, Amy. Which was fun.

Crazy. I love it. Well, if you would like to send your listeners tail in, please send it to morbidpodcast@gmail. Com with listener tails somewhere in the subject line and then a silly little goofy thing to catch your attention. We love you and we hope you keep listening.

And we hope you- Keep it weird. -keep it weird. But not to worry.

That you pull Amy's dad because what the fuck Amy's dad?

I'm never going to be over that. She's so upset about.

Amy's dad. Who does that?

Amy's.

Dad. Hopefully just him.

Hey,

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