Transcript of Listener Tales 110: Playdates with the Paranormal

Hey weirdos, I'm Elena Juice.

And I'm Ash Dietz. I like Elena Juice. But it's also kind of gross.

It's kind of weird and gross.

Yeah.

This is Morbid, in case you didn't know.

It's Morbid.

And it's Listener Tales.

Brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you. So we have some big a little bit of morbidness to start you guys off with. Just a little bit.

But it's fun.

It's like for you guys. So we are launching today.

Today.

Today. A candle, a Morbid candle, which has been filling my home with the yummiest smell. I have it under a candle warmer right now.

Oh, that's the best.

It's in the kitchen. And when I walk down the stairs, I go, "Oh." It smells so good. What is this scent?

Here it is. Oh my God.

We have it. Weekend Vanna White. So this is it. She Becometh So Lame. You can buy a vowel for She Becometh So Lame. And it smells like— sniffy sniffy. You already smelled it. It smells like amber and santal.

It's so clean. Yeah, it's that clean smell. Like, I don't know how to express it.

And it's warm. Yeah, yeah. We're gonna put it right here.

See, she's gonna stay right there.

You can have one. And you can also have a horned hoodie, which is really, really cute.

It's got horns.

And literally you put the hood on and it's horned.

Horns.

And we love it.

We were so excited about it. We've been wanting a candle forever.

Yeah, and everybody told us that we couldn't have a candle.

Yeah, no one would give it to us, or like some people wouldn't give it to us. Yeah, but some people did. So thanks, Sirius.

Sirius did. Marissa at Sirius. Yeah, she gets us.

She kicks ass.

So you guys should get that candle. And one last thing that we think you should do— should do— should buy tickets to the live show.

You should go buy tickets to the live show. You should go to Radio City Music Hall on June 27th.

See me, see Alayna. I don't know why I did it the wrong way.

See me, see Ash.

See our special guest who we can't announce yet. And we're gonna have pretty dresses.

We are. We're so excited.

From Romwe.

Yeah, it's gonna be really fun and we have a fun theme and it's gonna be a blast. It's one night only. Tickets are going, so get your tickets while they last because we want to see all of you. Bring your friends, have a blasty blast.

Yeah, and Elena says you can just wander the streets. You don't even have to get a hotel. You can!

Don't even get a hotel. Just wander the streets.

Wander the streets until morn.

Yeah, in New York.

Somebody will give you eggs in the morning. It's New York.

Somebody will.

Yeah. I don't know if they're reputable.

Yeah, but somebody will give them to you.

But anyway, that's why you should come, because you could get a story out of it. It's true. About where the eggs came from.

You want lore, don't you?

Who doesn't want lore?

We all want lore.

Speaking of lore, you guys send in your lore.

You did! You sent in much of your lore.

Did you see that?

A great many lore.

So much lore. Yes. Would you like to start with the lore?

Let's start with the lore. I think, um, we— I think there's like kids seeing ghosts in this one.

Yeah, because like you're a ghost. Yeah, I see ghosts.

All right, so I'll go first. This one's called Kids Say the Creepiest Things.

They really do.

And they do, can confirm. Hi.

Hi. Hi, how are you?

I just started listening to Morbid about a month and a half ago. Welcome. Hello. I'm on episode 161 where you guys discuss the scream murder. Wow, you're early.

Early.

That's a very brutal one. I beg you to stay with us. Stick with us.

We start sounding a lot better and we get much more professional as time goes on.

Clearly. Clearly.

Hello.

In the earlier episodes, you guys announced that you're doing live shows and how excited you were about them. You kept saying, "Live shows 2020, we're coming for you." And in my head I was screaming, "I'm from the future and 2020 ain't it!" Yeah, we wish we heard you back there. It was very sad. And every time I listen to an episode, you girls have to talk about ticket refunds and rescheduling, and my heart breaks for you all over again.

It was a rough time.

It was. Anyways, on to my tale. My name is Dani. Hi Dani. Hi Dani. I have a 3-year-old named Miles, not his real name, and since birth he has always been sensitive. When he was 2 and a half, we were laying down to take a nap. What he said chilled me to the bone. Now he was 2 and a half here. He said, I miss my other mama.

Ew. If I was his current mama, I would be so pissed.

I'd be like, what mama?

I'll fight her.

I'm your mama.

I'm your one and only mama.

I sat up confused. What other mama, honey? I'm your only mama. My mama from when I wasn't Miles. What? This is like my favorite thing ever. This is my favorite thing ever.

But if I have this kid, I'm going to be So scared.

Yeah. And I can confirm I don't think I have one of those kids. So.

No, I don't think so.

Your kids are pretty fucking weird though. They are weird. But like in a fun way. Like the coolest way.

Yeah, but they don't do this shit.

They don't. I was raised very spiritually. My dad always said reincarnation was real. He thought I was gifted and explained that our family had a long history of psychic abilities. I thought he was full of shit. Sure, I get certain vibes around people or places, and sure, I've had dreams where someone else and I felt like I'm reliving a memory. And yes, I've absolutely seen things that I can't explain. Hat Man, I'm talking to you.

Ugh, the creepiest.

But the rational scientific part of me believed and still thinks maybe I'm crazy or schizophrenic or delusional.

You never know.

Yet here was my baby saying something so innocent. I decided to play it cool. Honey, no matter who your mama used to be, I'm your mama now. Okay?

Period.

That's right. You put a period on that sentence.

You lay it down.

He was silent for what seemed like an eternity. I was half hoping he'd fallen asleep. Then he spoke again. "I was driving my car. I was at a gate and I was Miles and you were my mama," he said excitedly. I was shook. Fast forward a few months. I had just buckled him in his car seat after a trip to the gas station. As I was tightening the straps on his seat, he looks up at the passenger seat. He draws his eyebrows together, clearly confused. "Mama, who's that girl in the front seat?" Oh, you got a sixth sense, kid. Yeah, that's scary as hell. My heart dropped out of my butt. My mind immediately went into protection mode. Was there a stranger who just casually got in my vehicle without me knowing? What the hell? I glanced up to the passenger seat and there was no one there. Miles continued to stare at the empty seat. I breathed a sigh of relief. Ghosts were much easier to handle than living, breathing fleshies. And honestly, I agree with you. Can you tell me more about her? Is she old like a grandma or like little like you?

I asked as I finished tightening his straps. Old like a nana, and she's got orange hair just like me. Oh, Miles replied. He kept staring past me. Some ghostly ginger granny was in my car. It was fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. It was weird.

You're gonna be a ghostly ginger granny.

Oh yeah, that's right. I nodded and said, okay, I believe you. That was a great way to handle that. Yeah, that was like really weird. A few more weeks went by. He went to— we went to our local dollar store for some last-minute dinner supplies. My husband went inside while Miles and I waited in the car. The parking lot was absolutely deserted. Suddenly, out of the blue, Miles says, "The little girl behind me says she wants to go home." Nah, I'd be checking out of that one.

I'd be like, "No, I don't believe you on this one." Personally, I would abandon my husband at that dollar store and skrrt right out of there.

It was a hot summer day and still my whole body broke out in goosebumps and a chill swept through me. The back of my skull tingled. I wanted to nope right out of there, but my husband was still inside the store.

Doesn't matter.

Leave him.

He'll understand.

My eyes darted around the desolate parking lot, searching for someone, some girl getting into a vehicle or driving or anything that Miles might have seen to make him say that. There was nothing. No. A few more weeks went by without incident. No talk of not being Miles. No talk of anyone who isn't there. Then we took a road trip to see family. As we were driving along the interstate, Miles looks out the window. I was driving my car and it went off the road and through the trees and into the water.

Awesome! Great, Miles. Thanks.

I have become convinced this is not my child's first time on this earth. He sees things and people who are not there. I try not to talk about it with him, but any— and if he brings it up, I just tell him that I believe him.

That's really nice.

That's really nice. That's a good way to handle it. Yeah. I don't know how else to handle it. It's like this fear that the closer he is to the other side, the less of him I get to have here. I know that might sound crazy. It's not. But in this life he is mine. I don't want to share.

I would feel that exactly the same way.

Thank you for reading this. Sorry if it was a lot. This was amazing. Hopefully you can use it in a future episode.

Miles, even though that's not his real name, I love that name.

I know, that is really cute.

But he's creepy as fuck, girl.

He is.

What are you gonna do with that kid?

I, I always wonder if these kids, like, I think when they get older they like forget this stuff.

Yeah, they do. I, I— that's what I've mostly heard.

But you want them to hold it so that later you can be like, tell me everything.

Like, tell me what is going on.

Yeah, I know.

But I think they forget it.

So maybe you continuously being like, I believe you, and just letting him say it, it's probably— yeah, well, like jog his memory enough that maybe he'll remember it a little more. Maybe, because I want to know.

I definitely think most people aren't as validating. Like, I think more often you hear stories where people are like, don't say that, oh, it was a dream, or like, you know, you saw something.

Yeah, yeah.

All right, well, that was creepy, Dani.

Thank you, Dani, that was good.

And shout out to Miles. Our next tale is Galveston Ghosties but not a totally sad tale.

Okay.

And this listener would like to remain anonymous. I need to go. You gotta go, Nicholas?

Nicholas, we just started.

Where are we?

We're at my house.

Where are we?

We're at the pod lab.

You're in the pod lab with us and Elena.

You're at work.

You like Elena, remember? Yeah. I'm not sure if you're a fan of me.

Nicholas called me an angel.

He told me to be quiet. So I was, shh. What did he say? Don't, I won't push you, I won't push your buttons.

He's like, you're pushing.

I'm not, because sometimes Papa says that. He does. You're pushing. Oh, when I lived at home, I got that a lot.

You were always pushing.

You're pushing. That's exactly how he says it. Or if I wanted a clown, I would have hired one.

The best one.

Or I would have gone to the circus.

Yep.

Yeah, I was a fun kid. Anyway, hello weirdos. As I'm cleaning up my classroom for the end of school year. I've been listening to your back catalog. You have that in common with the last listener.

Thank you.

Thank you for keeping me entertained through the hours of checklists and boxing up books. I just heard your Haunted Lighthouses episode.

We need another one of that.

I know, we haven't done that in a while.

Spooky season is coming.

I know. This one is about the Galveston Hurricane of 1900. I have a super spooky story for you two related to the hurricane, and it will give you both the heebies and the jeebies. This started in 2013. I had recently discovered I was pregnant, so I was still able to walk around without feeling completely exhausted. Wanting to go out before we had a little one to take care of, my husband and I traveled from our home just outside of Houston for a date night in Galveston. We went on a haunted history tour because of course we did.

Yeah, why wouldn't you?

Yeah, exactly.

You get the opportunity, you go on that haunted tour.

You gotta. You can't really bring babies on that, so I get it.

Not really.

Maybe like a little bit older kids. Yeah, but you're doing your damn thing. So the island is one of the oldest cities in the country, so we wanted to learn more about the spooky history Boy did we. One of the first stops we made on the tour was to a spot that's now a parking lot. Aw, you put up a parking lot.

Oh yeah.

Before the hurricane it had been St. Mary's Orphanage. The story is truly heartbreaking. The nuns who ran the orphanage were trying to save the children, so they tied them together in lines like little ducklings. Each line was held by one of the sisters who tied themselves to the children. Oh. That way if one child was being swept away, the other child and the sister could hold on to them. The lines of children walked through the flood and the storm to some trees in the area where they climbed up to try to stay away from the rushing waters. Unfortunately, the lines of the rope that were meant to save them did just the opposite. As the waters rose, the children on the lower branches would be swept away by the rushing waters, and they would pull the whole line of children and the sister tied to them away as well.

Ugh.

Out of the more than 90 children who lived in the orphanage, only 3 boys survived. The rest were drowned in the Gulf. We listened to the story and my husband took out his phone. He saw 3 orbs of light in the camera. He lowered his camera and there was nothing in front of him, and when he brought up the camera again, there they were. He showed me and we thought maybe it was just a trick of the streetlights until the orbs started moving. He greeted them with a, "Well, hello there." Oh, that's really sweet.

That's really cute.

And they moved even more. Not only did the orbs move as we stood there listening to the story from the tour guide, They started following us on the tour. We told the tour guide later on the tour and they said, "Oh, were you expecting?" Apparently this is a fairly common occurrence.

What?

That's nuts.

I love that.

This would have been a bit spooky, but that wasn't the last we met with one of those children. My son was about 2 or 3 years old playing in his room and we heard him talking. Totally normal. He was playing with his toys. Then we started hearing him talking to someone. He was having a conversation. That's my worst fear.

Yeah.

Thinking very little of what he was doing, because what 2 or 3-year-old boy doesn't have imaginary friends, we asked my son who he was talking to. He said he was talking to his friend Haber. He comes by sometimes to play. We asked him more about his friend. He was an older boy. Oh, that's interesting, sweetie. What was he telling you? Oh, Haber said he has to stay in the tree. He has to what? Haber said that he stays in the tree. The tree outside your window? No, another tree. He can't come down, he has to stay up there to be safe. Womp womp womp.

I don't like it.

I'd be like, why did you come to my house? I'd be like, why are you here? It was cool when we were on the tour, but why did you come to my house?

It was cute when you were orbs.

What's going on? That's why when you leave a haunted place, you have to shake every— like, if you don't want this to happen, you have to shake everything off and you have to explicitly tell the entities they are not welcome to come home. They can't follow you in your car anywhere. We had to do that at the USS Salem, and they actually instructed us to do it. Like, it was serious.

We did it at the S.K. Pierce Mansion, at Lizzie Borden. We've done it every single time.

We do it everywhere now. Yeah, honestly, I'm gonna start doing it at Mom and Papa's house. Truly, fucking lot of those things. So my ghoulish friends, I couldn't find the names of any of the children who were there, but I think my son's friend was telling him about one of the sisters who was in charge of the children. Sister Mary Catherine Herbert. Wanna know the other super creepy thing? Not long after, we were talking to our friend who was half Romani. He told us he really doesn't care to go to a lot of older places because of the fun gift he inherited from his family. He could see ghosts. He confirmed that our house had several, thankfully very friendly folks that like to hang around, one of whom was a young boy who was chilling near our son's room. That's so wild.

Imagine getting confirmation of that. Like, there's a bunch of ghosts in your house. They're friendly though. I'd be like, that's sick. Yeah.

I would love it personally, but—

But that would make me— that would be spooky.

Yeah, it would be really spooky.

And hearing that there's like, a young kid that like, hangs out by your son's room, I'd be like—

I don't think I'd love that.

I don't know about that.

I don't really want kid ghosts.

Yeah, kid ghosts freak me out.

But also like, old people kind of suck, so—

I know, that's the thing, like where's the—

There's fun old people.

You know, I would love like, a nice, you know, mid-30s—

Like an It's Britney, bitch ghost?

You know, to like, mid-40s. Yeah, you know, like, we can chill, watch Gilmore Girls.

All right.

You know, like, I feel like they're like, I don't really have the energy to do a lot.

Our son is much older now and hasn't spoken about Haber in years, so I suspect he just wanted a friendly kid to play for— for a while— play with for a while. The moral of this story is that if you want your kid to have a super friendly ghost friend who chills in his room and plays with his stuffed animals, give off friendly parent vibes when you go on coast tours. If you don't want something following you home, though, maybe don't say hi or go while you're pregnant.

That's good advice, I would say. All right. And shake it off.

Yeah, you got to shake it off and you got to establish the boundary.

You say no thank you.

No gracias.

Thank you, babe. Stay here.

You love it here. Stay here.

I like that, Anonymous. Thank you for that. The next one is Mimi the Shadow.

Horrifying.

I already love this. Ash and Alayna, I came across your podcast during COVID as it was for the As it was for most people, my COVID experience wasn't just your typical COVID adventure. I had a newborn, another child that was potty training, and a child in school.

That's horrific.

I'm so sorry.

Yeah.

My middle child had a preexisting condition and experienced seizures the few times we were exposed to the virus. Holy shit. Oh my gosh, awful. You did not have the normal experience.

No.

My youngest barely slept. My oldest also decided this was the time to hold on to the spiteful feelings for her siblings that tag-teamed ousted her from being an only child. Damn. On top of that, I have never, ever been a homebody. I wasn't just crawling the motherfucking walls during COVID I would do anything to hear the voice of another adult, whether it was talk about a new grout cleaning technique or 12th century cooking impact on Southern European politics, or how to prepare for next year's taxes with fun, new, complicated forms. Anything. I like to consider myself as a high-functioning Pisces. So when I found myself trapped with more than my usual downtime, Even after I Marie Kondo'd every space in my house, I found myself asking casual everyday questions like, how fast did DNA evidence help locate the Golden State Killer? Or did they really use handwriting analysis to figure out who Jack the Ripper was?

No.

You know, normal questions. Enter Morbid in all its glory. I have several weird stories, visits, and impossible coincidences. This is my favorite weirdo tale that ended in some self-healing. Oh, I love that. Despite the hell that was COVID, 2015 was easily the worst year of my life.

Oh no.

My father died unexpectedly the week my husband was supposed to deploy overseas.

Oh my God.

Which was delayed only a week to attend the funeral. Within the month, my husband's grandfather and stand-in father figure also passed away. Worse, my husband deployed after my father's funeral but before his granddad passed. Oh my God. My father's funeral delayed his deployment and therefore did not allow enough time leave to actually attend his own granddad's funeral. Oh, that's so sad. That's awful. Adding my husband's deployment location, he was unofficially denied attending. It was awful. Furthermore, during my husband's deployment, I faced a series of adulting situations solo. We just moved 3 months prior so that I could start a new job in heavily wooded nowhere, Virginia. I didn't have nearby or a very reliable family. My mom walked out when I was young and Disney hadn't picked up the rights to my stepmother's villain origin story yet.

Obsessed with you. Absolutely obsessed with you.

So with no had no one to lean on. Even months after the funeral, I felt completely flattened. I'm so sorry. Our— my young daughter had a lonely birthday, and a few months after that, she started pre-K. It was a struggle to get through the work day, and that is when I began to notice just how much my already chatty child had begun to talk to herself. A lot. It was exhausting enough to get up and go to work while taking care of a strong-willed 4-year-old Gemini during this time.

Been there.

So I don't really know what finally made me realize that my daughter was now talking and singing in what seemed like one-sided conversations, sometimes for hours, in her room or outside.

Listen, she might not have even been talking to ghosts. A Gemini can talk to a fucking wall. But I think she was talking to ghosts.

All energy was spent minimally functioning, and as my daughter is and always has been talkative and imaginative, it wasn't until she started to sing songs I had never heard before and repeat "Mimi says," "Mimi did," that I even asked her who this person Mimi was.

Remember when your middle used to talk about her other grandmother?

Yeah, she wanted to go visit her.

One time she got like legitimately angry at us because we were like, you can't go.

I actually forgot about that. So I was kind of like, no, that wasn't a thing. Yeah, that, that did happen.

She was weird.

She was like upset.

And she would describe her grandmother's house, her other grandmother.

It was pink. Yeah, yeah, weird. Yeah. And I was like, you don't have another one.

And she would get like genuinely upset.

Yeah, she would.

So I feel like it was a place for her.

I don't know what's going on.

Kids are weird, man. They are.

But actually, I asked about her friend, who I assumed was a friend from daycare, only to get a really judgmental look of disgust. On a random trip to the store, my daughter then told me that Mimi never leaves the house. Whose house? I asked, confused. Our house, she answered. Oh, I said, feeling like an idiot and finally connecting the dots. Oh, oh, okay. I realized my child had to invent a friend just to cope with our super depressing home situation. I took it as a sign to start connecting with any potential new friends. I was already a black belt in mom guilt, so I feel that. So while I contemplated if imaginary friends are signs of irreversible damage, knowing that my kid created an imaginary friend also somehow soothed me. As a military brat, she was already pretty resilient, and the things they came up with were pretty cute. This was the little push I needed to rejoin the world. I also realized Mimi was a good friend. She never got into mischief, was never really blamed for anything broken or missing, and always came up with fun things to create or do.

I would enjoy—

I would enjoy songs or games that I overheard while I cleaned or cooked dinner. Mimi was everywhere, involved in everything. Sometimes I even stooped to using Mimi's approval or suggestions to get things Mini struggles like tying shoes or brushing teeth over with. Again, this is a Gemini we're talking about. She could talk her way out of anything, and I needed all the help I could get some days.

Geminis really do be like that.

It's true. "When my husband returned from deployment, having another adult in the house helped orient my grief back to normal, or as close as you can get after loss and a series of life-changing events. One ritual I managed to keep was that every night we read 3 books and sang 3 songs. One evening, my husband volunteered to start reading, but our daughter said she was too busy for a book, telling him she wanted to play and he needed to leave." She said, "Get out, leave." "Right now. He tried to read a few times only to be repeatedly dismissed as he was interrupting her playing." My husband talked to our kiddo for a few more minutes, tucked her in, and then returned to our living room, seemingly amused but off. I was surprised he was back so soon, so I asked why. Because I met Mimi, he joked. Huh? I was surprised. I realized I hadn't told him about this imaginary friend. He then described walking into her bedroom after hearing her talking in a one-sided conversation. Who are you talking to? he asked. Our daughter said, Mimi. Who's Mimi? he asked, probably smiling ear to ear in his persistently optimistic Labradoodle-esque way.

I love him. Her response was so random that my husband decided to literally act out her response for me. I have to explain that my husband is very easygoing, not a man of many words, and even less likely to mentally unpack anything that he has experienced. He is adorably oblivious. I wouldn't say that he ignores things, but if he ever points something out, saying that it caught his attention really means something. He's the most live and let live person I know.

I love that.

To clarify, there are kitchen appliances that are higher maintenance than my husband's. So playacting his response was not only hilariously random of him, It is still a creepy joke we have. While I was lying down on our bed, my husband sat down on the floor next to me to act out our 4-year-old's response to his question, "Who's Mimi?" She is singing and freezes annoyed mid-song. While she's seated on the ground looking down, she then very slowly, deliberately, and intermittently lifted her eyes like they're slowly moving, then pausing and moving up again, up like going up a 5-rung ladder. She then locked eyes with her father and said in an unnervingly hoarse voice, "Mimi's a shadow." What the fuck?

What the actual fuck? Bitch. I don't know if I'm equipped for this.

I'm nervous.

I would literally be like, "Love you so much, good night." That's why he— that's what he did.

He was like, "Okay." My husband said it was so creepy, but we were already laughing enough when I asked him to say It— in the weird way she said it at least 3 more times. We laughed about how odd it was, and I definitely got goosebumps, but we found the whole thing mildly entertaining. I shared with my husband that Mimi was a better friend than I ever had been. The year of loss and grief put a lot of pers— into perspective. I was motivated to make some changes and enjoy life more. Within a few years, we were more settled, still struggling with the family loss, but Mimi visited less and less. We then moved further north to a city and stopped Thank you, girl. We moved further north to a city and stopped hearing about Mimi altogether. Ironically, my now teenager has no memory of Mimi despite their numerous songs that I recorded. To the left.

He always says that. He always says that shit. And that's where I sit normally. So please don't be there. Maybe he's a Beyoncé fan.

To the left. To the left. Their backyard walks to make fairy houses. Or multi-course tea parties. Oh, several months passed until I had an unexpected call with my grandmother, Gigi. Gigi is the unofficial mayor of her town. Love that for Gigi. She's in a nursing home a few states away, firmly within her community. By community, I mean she's literally one phone call away from bootlegged booze in her room or a ride to anywhere in town. Queen. I have called dozens of times for her to answer and tell me she has to go because so-and-so is visiting, or that she has to go because she has plans. So on a call catching up with Gigi, I'm telling her about our move from the woods to the city and how different it was. I was going on and on about taking a hike and all the great pictures we took. That's when she said, 'Yes, Mimi always loved that the best,' and I felt like the blood drained from my body. Despite being a bit of a woo-woo Pisces, I'm a professional skeptic. I've had plenty of supernatural experiences, but I never first assume otherworldly explanations. I feel that.

I don't. I literally work in facts. So hearing Mimi's name surprised me. Hearing my very religious Gigi say the name that I had only heard in the context as an imaginary friend was bewildering. I got chills, my stomach did somersaults. That's when I realized I hadn't said anything and Gigi just continued to talk about the weather and cute old lady things. I waited for a break in the conversation and finally, as normal sauce as you can several minutes after moving on from a topic, I said, "Who did you say likes the fall?" 'Who, who, who is that?' I tried not to stutter. 'My mother, Mimi. Well, she went by Mimi. That's what we called her,' she explained. She had never talked about her mother, and in her very Tennessee way, she then went on to inform me all about Mimi's people— family background and their successful careers, football-related achievements, love of animals and the water and the woods.

I love when Southern people call, like, family their people.

Their people.

Who are your people?

Yeah, you're my people.

You're my people. Yeah, I love it.

I went on to learn that Mimi was a very musical person. The song—

she's singing—

she was a pianist, a violin player, and a singer. This all made sense as my grandmother was in every singing group that would allow— that they would allow her. Gigi also had a song for the most random shit: drinking songs, songs about people that don't mind their own business, etc.

I want to know that song, please.

The more Gigi shared, the more I mentally came undone, but I couldn't say anything other than Wow. Mimi was the oldest of 3 children and had a tough childhood. Apparently Mimi's mother divorced her D-bag cheating husband when she was about 10 to raise Mimi and her brothers on her own. Mimi was kept to a high standard in school, and she not only played the violin and piano in orchestra, she was in debate, glee club, Latin club, chor— what is chorale?

Like the Golden Chorale?

Chorale?

What's chorale?

Chorus. Oh, that's what that is?

Chorale.

Chorale? What is chorale?

What is chorale?

Tell me.

It's chorus.

And I love Mikey went, "It's course." That's why I said chorus.

Chorale.

Flourish. I liked that.

Why it's course. He said course.

Course. And other clubs with names I do not understand. Okay, I'm glad you don't understand either. She went on to meet her husband and have 4 children. Gigi said she didn't always see eye to eye with her mother, but Mimi didn't put up with anyone's nonsense.

Hell nah.

She encouraged Gigi not to marry young, but rather go to to school and make her own money. This led my grandmother into a lifelong career in teaching, a gift she uses whenever she gets the chance. Oh, I had such an out-of-body experience hearing about Mimi. It never felt like a mere coincidence that my grand— my child's imaginary friend also had the nickname of my late great-grandmother, who happened to only be around during one of the darkest periods of my life.

I didn't even think about that part. Yeah, that's really beautiful.

I still have never met anyone or heard of my child knowing anyone with that This conversation was so upsetting that it took me years to even tell anyone, and I still can't share this story without getting very emotional. On top of that, this experience never qualified as a 'tell me about yourself without sounding batshit crazy' kind of thing, so thank you for having a weirdo platform to share this.

Of course!

The most unnerving part of all of this is that Gigi is my mother's— my mother's mother, so having any discussion about mothers, let alone my mother, was taboo or upsetting. Conversations about my mother involve shame, guilt, or the insistence that I forgive her for her many transgressions.

I heard that.

So hearing that my own Gigi had issues with her mom was illuminating. I finally decided I needed to tell Gigi. With the complexity of our relationship and my own mother lingering in the background of every conversation like an uninvited specter, it took me 9 full years to tell my grandma about this bizarre coincidence. It also took a while because it never felt right telling Gigi randomly through a phone call. That maybe her late mother might have been visiting her great-great-granddaughter to take care of us while I was mentally a ghost myself. I couldn't have said the words out loud if I tried, and I did. So 9 years later, I finally mustered the courage to share this experience with Gigi. At this point, she was in a nursing home after a bad fall and was having several complications. She also had found out my mother had recently committed some shenanigans with her bank account.

Why do people do that shit? That we know him. Yep, we know him.

I didn't know any of this was going on when I called, and she was so glad just to talk to someone. When I asked if I could share a weird story and then told her about Mimi the shadow guest, she took a long pause before speaking, the kind any sane person would need to take if their loved one told them that they were communicating with their dead mother. When she started to talk, I realized she had paused because she was crying. This was out of character, and I started to feel like an idiot when she finally said, 'Thank you, that brings me a lot of comfort.' Oh, she always has this power positive veneer, so when she went on to open up about the shitty things going on, she admitted her frustration of feeling like a burden and her disappointment with my mother, all things we had never discussed before. So then I cried, even though it was due to me saying this possibly batshit crazy thing. We were definitely being real. Discussing her mother seemed to open the door to discuss her daughter with me for the first time in an honest way. It also confirmed that there was still an unbreakable motherly thread of love and human dignity in the nonstop soap opera that is my family.

We heard that.

We heard.

We were finally able to discuss a painful and unwelcome elephant in the room that seemed to taint every conversation I had with Gigi as an adult. It felt like we could finally move past what had been left unsaid. Since then, we've been able to talk more honestly about anything. I can call her for wisdom anytime. That is, when she isn't too busy entertaining her neighbors or enjoying a bootlegged margarita.

What an absolute icon.

Mimi's visit seemed to have healed us both. I've attached some photos of Mimi and her epic bob below. I love a good bob. I love a good bob.

You need a good bob.

I know, I kind of want like a fuck-ass bob.

You need a fuck-ass bob. Even looking at this length on you, it's not quite fuck-ass bob, but like the shorter length— the long length looks incredible, but the short length, you have that like jaw that just like Eat some.

Thank you. Yeah, I want to fuck ass.

And that's from a hairdresser.

That is. I take it seriously. Well, maybe I will snap.

Maybe we'll snap clap.

Uh, so we're getting some photos of Mimi. I'm so excited. And an epic bob. Thank you for reading this, and thank you for having the weirdo platform to read these stories. And in true Pisces fashion, keep it weird, but not so weird that you don't receive a possible message of love and comfort from a deceased relative that just wants to let you know that you aren't alone when you need it the most. Take it away, Ash.

I think you did the dance thing for me. Oh, Mimi is a slay!

That's a fuck-ass walk.

Also the over-the-shoulder, just like, bitch, you can't touch me.

She's like, I'm Mimi.

She said, I'm in the glee club, I'm in chorale. She said that picture is giving, I'm in chorale. She's a queen with her little choker.

Oh, that, that's— she's that bitch.

Oh, that's for the glee club.

She's that She is.

Oh, there's more. Oh, tea party with Mimi. Oh, so let the creep factor sink in.

I love it. Oh, I want to have tea parties with my great-grandkids when I'm dead.

You're gonna.

I'm gonna.

That's, you know, you can do whatever you want when you're dead. I'm pretty sure. Okay, the next one is All the Ghosties Love Me, the listener tale of a creepy-ass kid.

Oh my god, the ghosties love me too.

I know they do love you. Apparently they hate me. Hey guys, I'm Jacqui, or Jackie, or Jackie, I don't know, but you can just call me the girl who talks to ghosts because that's what my first grade teacher used to call me behind my back.

What a bitch.

What a bitch, I know.

She didn't talk behind your back.

She couldn't even say your name, Jacqui.

Yeah, Jacqui. Jacqui.

My ADHD is kicking in real hard, so there might be some spelling mistakes, and I definitely rambled a bit, but I'mma just leave this here. I have to say I love you guys.

Oh, I love you!

Can I just say that my boyfriend finds murder creepy and gets super uneasy when I have my headphones in and I'm laughing out loud because he knows I'm listening to you? Thank you for keeping it so weird that I have tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard at the two of you bullying a murderer.

Yeah.

Bullying is only okay when the person is literal human trash. Yeah. Period. Agreed. Anyways, let me tell you just one of the reasons I don't fuck with any superstitions.

Let's go.

Okay, look, I was always a kind of weird, kind of creepy kid.

Me too.

According to my mom, I chased away most all of my babysitters. At first they thought it was because our house backed an old Watertown— yes, Massachusetts, hell yeah— cemetery, but they later found out that at least a couple of them were really just over me telling them about my friends. You know, the man in the wheelchair, the old lady with a red cane, or whoever else decided to hang outside my bedroom window. Who lived on the second floor.

That's weird.

But don't leave.

What can I say? I'm friendly. What's a little kid has to say?

Yeah, I'm friendly in a good goddamn time. Yeah, you are. My preschool class didn't think so though, so none of them ever talked to me.

Aww.

I hate that.

That's not cool.

You're just a baby.

You want me to fight them? They're adults now.

You're just a baby.

I'll fight them.

Alina will fight them. Trust me.

I'll fight them.

Uh. I guess they were a little older than me, but they always pretended that I didn't exist, at least from what I could remember. I remember being in this class and being ignored by the other kids who were older than me. Anyways, strap in.

On site.

Yeah, we'll fight them for you. Here's the story of my first ever full memory. My school was basically in our backyard, and my mom brought me there all the time, so you better believe my ass was confused when my teacher was in my room one morning waking me up because I was late for the class Easter egg What?

I'm sorry, did I—

did I read that correct? Okay, okay. My mom grew up in Somerville during the Sugar Hill Gang/Whitey Bulger era.

Oh no.

And her neighbor went missing when she was a kid.

Oh.

Plus my friend group wasn't exactly kosher for a 4-year-old, so you better believe that my house was nearly impossible to get into from the outside. Time to go, my teacher said. Get dressed, we're late.

I hate this in every way that you could hate something.

Hey, so are you being kidnapped?

Yeah, what's going on? Where the fuck is your— who's your teacher?

Uh, well, I was 4, so I looked them up in the news. Probably she waited for me to put on my white snow boots and my purple snowsuit all by myself. We were quiet because my parents were still sleeping.

I'm— you're being kidnapped right now.

You're being kidnapped.

Somebody call— somebody call someone.

I don't like—

I'm upset.

Retroactive 911, I'd like to report a kidnapping.

This says it's happening.

"My teacher took me— took my hand and walked me outside to join the egg hunt. I was frustrated because the big kids were all finding the eggs and I hadn't got any. My not-so-tiny legs—" Your girl is lanky. "Kept getting stuck in the mounds of snow she was leading me through. I could retrace every step I took." What the fuck is going on? "I could tell you what the big kids said to tease me. I could reenact the entire day.

It was my first real memory." What kid is teasing a 4-year-old also? Give me the names of every one of these kids because they're adults now. And they deserve to get walloped.

Walloped. She's into that word lately. Walloped! I like pummeled. So let's fast forward a couple of years when you weren't kidnapped, Korshun.

What happened? I don't want to fast forward a couple of years.

I'm not ready! What is going on? Well, we have to fast forward a couple of years. I'm looking through old photo albums with my mom, or the teacher that stole you. What? You know, '80s baby style. We come across this picture of me Knee-deep in a pile of snow, hair a mess, and my purple snowsuit. Was that my egg hunt? I asked my mom. She gave me a confused look. No, this is my first ever memory. The egg hunt with my class. The look she gave me made me feel self-conscious. Is that how you remember it? She asked. Yeah, with the Winnie the Pooh school.

I'm so nervous.

Now she looked annoyed. I told her it was my first memory and that my teacher had to wake me up so that I didn't miss it. You still believe that? She asked me. Obviously. Well, of course. I have very vivid memories of that day. I remember the picture being taken when I found my first egg. I looked at the photo again and I was holding a snowball. No, Mom, I remember the egg hunt. Oh no. Jack, she said in the sweetest voice, that was the day you got up, got yourself dressed, and went outside to play by yourself. Your dad and I almost lost it when you weren't in your bed. I didn't remember that, but I started flipping through the album to find the picture of me and my egg. I know you took the picture. Where is it? I asked my mom. She was shocked. There was no picture. There was no egg hunt. There was no teacher. There was no school.

What the fuck?

But I remember the big kids were always mean. They ignored me. I begged her to remember. You used to say that, she told me, when you were younger. The big kids don't like me. You said it all the time. I remember some of their names, though. I remember who picked on me and who just ignored me. The Winnie the Pooh school, Mom! I begged her to remember the classroom she took me to, the room with Winnie the Pooh painted on the wall. She used my full name when she told me to cut the shit, and that's when I realized something was weird. Apparently when I was a kid, I didn't just have imaginary friends, I had an imaginary classroom. What the fuck? Apparently my mom and I would sit and play? in the cemetery for hours in the mornings. I have real memories of this school. Vivid memories. I could draw a picture of the teacher that woke me up that morning if you asked me to. I used to tell my mom what I learned in school. Colors, numbers, the alphabet. She always just went with it. 30 years later, I found out I actually didn't go to school.

Years later, when we were living in a different house. Don't worry, by that point I had younger sisters, so I guess I finally had some real friends. I've never had the guts to look into the cemetery or reason that I thought I was in school all of that time.

This is wild. Wild.

But you can say for sure that someone helped me get dressed that morning. Someone held my hand while I climbed through the snow, and I actually heard the big kids laughing at me when I only found one egg.

Which also, I will still fucking wallop them.

Yeah, even if they're not real. In the afterlife, she'll wallop them. That pisses me off. This was probably why I couldn't keep a babysitter for more than one night. Maybe spirits were my— spirits were my friends and my teachers. Even the big kid bullies never tried to hurt me. They just pretended I didn't exist. Maybe because they didn't see you, because they were just like ghosts and you weren't. This story doesn't really have a climactic ending or even a point. It was pretty climactic. But to this day, I'm very respectful of spirit folklore because spirits were always friends to me. Yeah, Ash, I'm gonna take this one and say keep it so weird that spirits just want to be around you and you want to be— and want to be your friends.

Definitely keep it that weird. I had no idea at any point during that story where it was gonna go next.

I thought that you fully got kidnapped.

I thought you were to discover that you had been kidnapped and you were traumatized, so they didn't tell you and they just told you it was an egg hunt?

Yes, I thought so too. I thought your mom was gonna be like, fuck, Jack, I thought that you didn't know that you got kidnapped.

We got past that. What? She— you just had a whole ghost school.

That's crazy, babe. I'm proud of you. That's wild, babe. Good for you, girl.

Damn. I'll still hit those kids for you. Hit them. Uh, they're adults now. I'll hit them as adults. Uh, holy shit.

Damn, you guys are creepy so far.

Yeah, you are. That was crazy.

This one's creepy too.

This next one's called Spoopy Ass Kids in a Haunted Daycare. All right.

Oh good, another school. Is this one real?

I hope so. Hello ladies, my name is Hannah. Feel free to use my name because I will lose it if this is ever read on a Listener Tales episode. Lose it, Hannah.

Do you know what I just remembered recently? One time we took a— this was real— one time we took a field trip to this like school and we had to pick old-timey names and I picked Hannah because it was of the choices. It was of the choices. Why'd you have to pick an old-timey name? Because we were pretending to be old-timey. It was when I had that crazy sunburn, remember, with the bubble? Oh my God, yeah, with the blister. It popped at that— it was like a one-room school that we all went to for like a field trip. But why was Hannah an old-timey name?

I, I don't know anything about any of this.

I picked it because one, I think it's pretty, and two, it's a palindrome. Oh, there you go.

Hannah. Hannah. Hannah. Hannah.

Hannah. I like how you were like, "Huh?

Race car?" See what I mean? Yeah, that's weird.

I just randomly remembered that the other day.

That's one of your first memories. There you go. But not one of my first. Was it real?

Who knows? It was real because of the sunburn. Who can be sure? Trust me, I'm sure.

That sunburn rocked my life. That sunburn.

Wow. I think it was a third-degree burn. Yes, Dr. H was pissed.

I believe it. Yeah, anyway, there's that, you know, Dr. H. So I changed the names of everyone involved for you, so no need to worry about them. Thank you. All right, you two are absolutely hilarious. Oh my God, thank you. I've been listening to you since late 2020. I think it really is COVID. And you both brought so much joy to this insanity. This insanity. Uh, whenever I need a mood booster, I know I can look forward to a new episode or find an old one to re-listen to because you get it and always provide a laugh when it's needed. I'm a fellow New Englander. Hey, neighboring state of Connecticut. Uh, my youngest one would say Connecticut. Yeah, so all your New England cases really hit different. I wanted to share this listener tale because it was one of my best friend's favorite stories to be kept up to date on. She was going through cancer treatment while this was happening, so it was something I could tell her to make her laugh. She passed away in 2019. I'm sorry, and I miss her every day. Your banter and love for each other reminds me of her.

He said, our power, sister. Shit, that was crazy. Um, your banter and love for each other reminds me of her, and I can't thank you. And I— don't you dare turn him off. I saw that, Mikey. I saw that Mikey just tried to silence Nicholas, and it's me he doesn't like. Oh!

No, you're the liar! You're the liar! See? Wow! He does not like being silenced! You're cheating! You're cheating!

I got that mom peripheral vision that's like, "Don't do that!" Like, you see it happening.

I thought you were scratching your leg, to be honest. No. Oh no, he's— look at him owning it.

Oh no. He's gonna kill me. What did he say? Tombstone.

Well, girl, don't silence a ghost. He's so mad. Somebody already tried to silence him because he's dead. He's dead.

All right, this is a tale from my days of working in a daycare. Oh God. When I started at the school, I was given a brief history of the building. It was originally built as a wealthy family's house, then turned into a restaurant/bar, and finally became a school. Seems like a logical progression, right? Sure. It's an artsy, nature-based, bougie school for kids, birth to kindergarten.

Birth! In my classroom.

To school you go! There you go! Learn! The 2-year-old room where there was a large fireplace that went floor to ceiling in the middle of the room. It was raised, so we put pillows in it to make a space we called the Cozy Nook for kids to relax in. Wait, you let them relax in the fireplace?

I doubt it was work.

Guys! My favorite part of the job was basically telling the kids to sit in the fireplace when they needed to calm down. Can't say that every day. The teacher said the year before, one kid always used to ask, what's in the nook? When it was empty.

Who's in the nook?

Or who's in the nook? I thought they were just trying to fuck with me as the new teacher, but old ladies, was I dead wrong.

It sounded like you said old ladies, was I wrong? And I was like, excuse me, he said old bitches.

Let me tell you. She said, "You elderly fucks." Sometime in November, one of the boys pointed to the top of the fireplace, looked at me and said, "It's a ghost!" All I could think was, "Nope!" There was nothing there, so I ignored it.

She said early November? Yeah. Baelus then.

There you go. He was 2 and still learning English, so I just hoped "ghost" was another word for something much less ominous in his language. He ended up moving at the end of the month, so I figured it was over. Little did I know it was just beginning. Oh good. In January, I was sitting behind the fireplace at the snack table with another girl, Julie. Julie looked at me and said, "There's a ghost!" And when I asked, "Where?" she just casually said, "It's here." Now you may think, "All right, this little ragamuffin heard this from someone else and was just repeating it since she was 2, and what else do you do at 2?" No freakin' way. This girl was beyond her years when it came to her language. You could have a full conversation with her and convince yourself she was a kindergartner in kindergarten, even though she could fit in your pocket. She was the only kid who I would hands down believe. I mean, the kid built a Panera out of blocks one morning. How can you not trust her judgment? I respect that a little bit. I had chills all day.

The next day during lunch, 4 kids started laughing, getting really silly and pointing to the spot my old student pointed at in November. The spot above the fireplace. I should also mention this is like 8 feet off the ground. The teachers couldn't even reach the top. One of the girls at the table turns and looks me dead in the eye before saying, "That's not safe. That baby shouldn't be up there." What the fuck? Again, nothing was there. My heart dropped into my butt and I was like, "Yep, it's time to leave this place." The crescendo of the haunting was 2 days later. I was having a snack with Julie again when she finally— when she calmly stated, "I can't understand." I asked about what she was listening to. The school was on a busy road and there was always something fun happening outside. She looks up from her homemade granola cereal— again, bougie-ass school with personal chefs— to say, "What's he saying? I can't understand what he's saying to me." Now, sitting there, probably hungover from Wine Wednesday I partook in the night before, I'm like, I don't have the energy for this bullshit today.

When I asked who was talking, figuring she meant one of her 3 classmates also sitting with us, she said, 'him, that red guy,' while pointing to the empty chair next to me. 'Ladies, my Uber was there.' I looked at her, my heart now in my toes, and asked her to tell me— success, success— and asked her to tell me again who, uh, who it was. And she said, 'That guy, that stripy guy over there,' and pointed next to the table. My mind went to a million places at that point. I All right, you motherfucker. There is either one small child in red stripes walking around or we have accumulated three ghosties, a baby, someone covered in blood, and an old-time escape prisoner. Personally, I wasn't about any of these options. Best part of all of this, I was the last one to take my break. So for an hour every day, I had to sit in the class alone.

I'm not going to get up again because that didn't go well last time, but That motherfucker just said his name.

He just said Nicholas. He's astute. Nicholas, you are astute. Okay, um, so she had to sit in there alone. Wait, you're just gonna move on? I don't know what else to do. So she had to sit in there an hour every day during lunch, or during nap time, in a pitch-black room with 16 sleeping children and a loud-ass noise machine going. Oh, that would overstimulate me in a way I can't describe. Oh, I would fall asleep. Can't even count how many times everything would be dead silent and one kid would wake up crying, or I'd look up from my paperwork to see one of the gremlins awake and just silently staring at me from their cot.

Nightmare fuel, anyone? You just gotta look at them and say, "Don't do that." Don't do that, go back to sleep.

None of the children were ever frightened or upset by the ghost. If anything, it would make them laugh if it thought no one was watching. For the rest of the time I worked there, I walked in and greeted the ghost/ghosts in the morning to let him/them know we were taking care of the room and we were making sure the kids were safe. Other teachers are now in that classroom and they let me know that their children wake up screaming during nap. So it's going a little differently now.

A little different.

I told them just to greet him and their kids haven't been bothered since.

Oh, so he just wanted to be recognized.

He was like, just say hello. That's my garage, just in case anybody hears that. Uh, the school chefs have been— have seen someone running through the school on weekends. Awesome. And heard footsteps upstairs when there are only the two of them in the building. That's freaky. I've tried researching the history of the school, but sadly I can't find anything. Basically, I just laugh thinking about that crazy-ass ghost fucking up teachers' days while making kids laugh. I've since moved on to a new career as a sonographer. I'm about to start an evening shift where I expect to see some insanity on a different level, but I always laugh thinking about my otherworldly friends back at the school. I hope to see you both at a live show soon.

You should come to Radio City.

Keep it weird, but not so weird that some little ass— asshole kids tell you about the spoopy individual invisible murdered prisoner baby sitting next to you, and then you sit alone in a dark room. It is strange. It is strange. And then you sit alone in a dark room wondering who's watching you. Bye-bye.

That was a scary one. That was spooky.

I like that it was either a baby Someone, a bloody man, or an old-timey prisoner, what have you.

All those are— take your pick.

That's scary shit. Yeah, that's spooky.

Those are good. Wow. If you guys have listener tales, please send them in to morbidpodcast@gmail.com with listener tales somewhere in the subject line.

Yeah, Nicholas will love it. I appreciate it.

He literally said his own name.

He said his name. That's actually wild.

He was like, say my name, and then he was like, I'll do it.

He was like, I'll Tell me about it.

Maybe he is a Beyoncé fan. He said, tell me about it. Is Say My Name Destiny's Child? Uh, yeah. Beyoncé's in that, right? Yeah. See? Yes. Do you like Beyoncé?

Are you in the beef?

I was just gonna ask that. The way he said, tell me about it, he got a little Alright, well, we love ya! We do! We hope you keep listening! We hope you keep it weird! But not so weird that you don't reach out to Beyoncé and tell her we got a fan in the office.

Am I right, Nicholas?

From the afterlife!

Got anything else to say?