Transcript of Listener Tales 112: Vacation

Hey, weirdos. I'm your dad.

I'm your other dad.

You have two dads and we're on vacation. Yeah, this is Morbid.

We're your dads on vacation.

Period.

What up?

What up?

We're going to be talking about vacation listener tales today.

Duh.

And this just felt right. It did. And it was comfy.

The flamingo set to me is everything.

It feels real good.

I look like I don't have pants on, which is probably upsetting to some.

Some dads don't wear pants.

Some dads don't wear pants. I got aliens on vacation.

I love that.

I'd probably wear this other places.

I was going to say, just wear that anyway.

Maybe if I just wear it on your book tour.

Honestly.

Maybe I will.

Valid.

Like just this. This and like a little dress underneath that.

Okay. I support that a lot. And like some cute flats. Yeah, let's go.

I like it.

Oh yeah. Hey guys, have you seen it? Have you seen the bookmark? That's the bookmark. This is the bookmark. The.

It's not a bookmark. It is the bookmark.

This is the bookmark.

Look at that. And then you can put it in your special edition of the book, which you can preorder right now. And look, the blood continues to drip and it drips in line. Oh wait, you can even make 3 blood drips come out. That's what I did wrong. Yeah, look at that. Look at that. Leave that on your coffee table.

Yeah, in this bookmark. She's hard, she's thick, she's not gonna break, you're not gonna lose her. No, she's shiny. She's really— she's pretty.

No, my dog eats my bookmark.

So yeah, your dog probably couldn't eat this, and if they do, you should go to the vet right away. Yeah, but if you pre-order the book, if you pre-order The Butcher Legacy, this book, then you will be entered to win one of these. There's a bunch of people that are going to win some of these, and it's— you just have to enter, and the link is in my bio. You just have to enter proof that you pre-ordered The Butcher Legacy, just your receipt, you know, that kind of thing. You got that, and then you'll be entered automatically to win. And they're really cool. They're really cool. And this special edition is something I'm really excited about because I finally have a special edition.

I never had one before. If you don't get a box set soon, heads will roll.

I would like a box set.

As far as I'm concerned.

So maybe I'll get a box set.

I'll get a box set.

But we got a special edition. We got some art. Well, let me see. We got some art here.

That's fun.

We got some art.

I like it.

We got some annotated chapters in here, maybe.

You get to see Elena's handwriting.

I don't want to show you too much. There's lots of cool stuff in here and the sprayed edges.

Do you know my favorite thing about you? One of my favorite things about you? You have like the bubbliest handwriting for the spookiest girl. I do.

I felt like I had that handwriting.

You have like girl in 8th grade passing note handwriting.

Because I was a girl in 8th grade passing notes.

Me too.

Of course. Yeah.

I'm actually so mad. I used to have a box of all my notes. Me too.

But I don't know.

I mean—

And we'd fold them in that extra special way. Yep. Yeah.

You fold them into like triangles sometimes. Yeah.

We got real fancy with it.

Those were the days.

They really were.

I was— oh my God, I got in trouble so many times passing notes.

I think we all did. Here we are. So we're gonna do some— I think we got our business down, right?

Yeah, it's time for the Listener Tales, which are brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you.

Let's do this.

I feel like we need to make like dad puns if we can, and like dad jokes.

Yeah, definitely some dad puns and dad jokes.

John's really good at those.

We should have invited him. I know, I should call every now and then. I should call him and just tell him to give one.

Just be like Yeah, cool.

I'll do that.

Yeah, I was going to be like, yeah, I was going to—

that's what I'll do.

I'll call him and I'll go, yeah, yeah, fair enough.

We've been married long enough that he'll know what that means.

Fair enough. I was going to say I was gonna say, call him and say, we need your help. But then, and then he would say, I'm dad. But it didn't work. Like, you know, when you're like, I'm hungry, and he's like, I'm dad. I need your help. I'm dad.

Oh shit.

I'm like really tired, you know? We're here. It's summer.

It's summer. It's almost fall. It's coming. All right, let's read this first one, shall we?

Yeah, we should definitely read it.

This one's called I Fell in a Bog Twice.

Twice. You shouldn't do that.

You shouldn't even do that once.

No, you shouldn't.

All right, let's see. Hi, Ash and Alayna. Please note, you may use my name. Thank you. I don't know it yet, but we're going to get there.

Someday we'll learn.

First of all, fangirl moment. Y'all are the best. Thank you. You're the best. And I love the support and encouragement y'all provide to women. Thank you. Yeah, hell yeah. We love y'all too. We need to support each other. As someone who struggles with MDD, major depressive disorder.

I'm sorry.

Thank you for all the times you've— I'm going to take my glasses off because I can't read with them. Really? Yeah, I'm too old for this.

It's like nice. I don't like the big light and there's like a lot of lights in here. So I think this is my new solution.

It, you know, it just, it like blurred it for me. All of a sudden I was like, whoa.

Yeah.

Sorry about that. Thank you for all the times y'all have been there for me during my low points.

Oh, we'll always be there.

Yeah, y'all's commentary never fails to make me laugh and feel better, which leads me to my next thing. Sometimes y'all say that you're gonna be called out or yelled at for mispronouncing or using an incorrect term. Yes. Yeah, but please know your fans wouldn't do that or even bat an eye or give a fuck. Fuck the haters who complain and seem to have some sort of superiority complex.

Hell yeah.

Have they ever started a beyond successful podcast? Are they being forced to listen to Morbid? I'm going to say no and no. Maybe they should be forced to listen to every episode until they can come to appreciate what y'all do.

Period.

You know, you both are so loved and adored.

We adore you right back.

My goodness. Okay, on with the story. I was listening to the bog episode and thought I should tell you about the time I fell in a bog.

Did you fall on a bog body?

Oh, shit. In 2023, my sister and I took a trip to Scotland for her 40th birthday.

If we don't go to Scotland soon, I might cuddle you.

Truly. Let me tell you, this trip was a doozy. We both have ADHD and traumatic childhoods. I'm sorry. Which means we strive in chaos and tend to be too calm in situations others may panic and find alarming.

Maybe that's why I freeze.

Maybe.

Like, I'm not like running. I'm just like— You're just like, here we are.

Yeah, just— You're just deer in headlights. I won't go into everything, but the trip was a doozy. Let me set the stage of our journey. Day 1, our flight gets canceled after sitting on the tarmac for over 2 hours due to a blizzard. Yay, Minnesota weather. Day 2, we successfully arrive in Glasgow, but our bags do not.

Oh, that's my worst nightmare.

Oh well. What can you do? By this time, my sister is hangry. I only mention this because we went to pick up the rental car and the man asked if we both planned to drive and she wasn't too keen on answering. So I answered that I would be the sole driver. I should mention this trip was us driving the entire perimeter of the country. But the woman needed food and I couldn't fault her for that. So off to Edinburgh. We drive with two fluorescent yellow bracelets on each wrist that say left side, given by the— that's actually really smart.

That actually is smart.

Yeah. Given by the car rental place to remind me which side of the road to drive on, along with the promise of our bags to be delivered at some point in time. I didn't know they did that. That's really smart.

That would fuck me up still, even with the bracelet.

I know you're not good at lefts and rights.

I'm not good at lefts and rights, and I just feel like I would hate it.

Like, see, I think it would help me.

No, no, no. I think the bracelet would help. I would just hate the fact that I had to drive on the other side.

Like, I don't think I could do it. Yeah. With day 2 starting off with a bang, we decide to go explore the city since we didn't have luggage to drop off at the hotel. We parked the car, we packed the cat, and are walking around when we notice a group of people gathered on the sidewalk. As we approach, the first thing we hear is an EMT say, yep, looks like antifreeze. Ends up a woman, oh no, had died on the sidewalk after ingesting antifreeze. Fuck. Now, I grew up being taught that you don't stop to watch car accidents or emergency situations because it causes, uh, it causes getting in the way or another accident. So on we continued, passing right by the dearly deceased Jesus.

It causes getting in the way.

No. Once I got my sister fed, we headed back to our hotel where our bags had arrived. Yay! We go to our room, and as we're getting settled, I look over to her and said, remember that time we saw a dead body? Both of us burst out laughing. To clarify, we were laughing at the fact that we're so fucked up from childhood that we don't know how to properly respond or react to crazy events. That's completely okay. It happens. Yeah. For the deceased woman, I do sincerely hope she has now found peace. Our world is shitty, and you never know what someone has endured to lead them up to that point. Halfway through the trip, we went to the Highlands, where we stayed at a wonderful cottage owned by two sisters who had just opened the day prior. One day, we decided we wanted to see the fairy pools.

I want to see them.

One of our sisters told us to go to a spot a few miles down the road and walk through the forest versus the place all the tourists go. That meant we would get to see the prettier pools frequented by the locals. So off we went. After surviving a one-lane road on a mountain without any railings, covered in potholes, and meant for traffic going both ways— no, we finally pull into a small parking area. Uh, so it was next to the forest. We get out of the car and notice many articles of clothing laying around. I make a comment about how rude it is for people to leave clothing and trash instead of properly disposing of it. As we approach the forest, we I notice there is no path. We were legit going into a random, slightly dim, dense forest. I look over and happen to see a sheep. Love that. As my witchy woman, nature-loving self, I tell my sister, "We should follow it since I'm convinced it'll lead us to water." After a few yards in, I go to take my next step and I fall right into a motherfucking bog.

I love that because you were following a sheep, you fell into a bog. That's really Ash-coded, to be honest. It really is.

You said, "That sheep will bring us somewhere." To be fair, he did lead you to water, so he just didn't tell you which one.

He didn't say what it was coming.

He didn't ask. So my sister started coming for me, and I yelled, don't you dare take one more step or we will die in here!

Oh God.

I happened to be wearing my favorite flannel jacket and took it off and threw it at her. I then decided I would try to move forward since I was only covered in bog muck up to my claps.

Oh my God.

However, as soon as I moved, I started to sink, and by sink I meant that at this point the bog was up to my tits.

Not bog water up to your tits.

Oh my God, my sister is dying of laughter.

That's, that's a sister. Which was making me both laugh and think even more, oh my God, you're gonna drown in a bog.

She then sees a broken branch and grabs it for me to hold on to as she pulls me out. What happened next, you ask? My shoes, new Rothi sneakers, I might add.

Oh, those are so cute.

Pants and underwear decided they wanted to live in the bog. What? The bog took your underwear.

Oh my God.

Since bogs preserve things, I guess in the future people may one day discover these cool shoes and the magical thing known as yoga pants.

They'll be like, "What are these?" But back to the story.

We were laughing so hard as we took stock of what had been stolen from me and what we needed to do next. What do you do?

You literally don't have pants or underoos on anymore. Like, what do you do in that sitch? I guess she has the flannel.

Yeah. But since we didn't really have any options, we took off running to the car. Once at the car, the realization hit me that I could not get inside with bog shit covering what little clothes I had left since the seats of the rental car were fabric. I already knew I had scraped against one too many curbs and hit one too many potholes, so I didn't want to risk having to also pay for the interior damage as well. My best option was to take off the rest of my clothes and leave them next to the discarded ones I mentioned earlier.

You just have to drive naked.

That's all just bog clothing. I drive us back up the mountain road completely naked. We make it back to the cottage.

We also— I feel like these locals punked you because it's like, let's see who has to drive home naked.

I think they do that to people.

Yeah.

Good for them.

Now we know.

Yeah. So yeah, you're naked. We make it back to the cottage and my sister says, you're naked and other people are staying here. Do you want me to go grab you a shirt? I respond that I will not allow the bog muck to ruin anything else. So I hop out of the car and take off sprinting to our room. I should mention that our room is an unattached cottage from the main house. My sister goes in the main house to grab extra towels and notices the two sisters and a few guests huddled around the window. They turn around and ask, did your sister just run by naked? She responds, yeah, so she fell in a bog. Apparently they had never heard of such a thing happening to someone, so lots of laughter and many questions followed.

Or they hadn't.

As a lady, my biggest concern was for my lady parts. I didn't know what the fuck that bog was already preserving, and I wanted to be clean ASAP. Yeah, I showered for a solid hour, hour and a half, and then took another shower as soon as the hot water returned.

pH is a serious thing.

Once done, my sister asked how I knew that she shouldn't take a step towards the bog to try to reach me. I responded, "That wasn't my first time." She laughed so hard that tears were streaming down her face, with me quickly joining in because you know what? What else could we do but laugh? Though I now live in the Midwest, I'm originally from and grew up in the Appalachian Mountains, so I have many spooky experiences I'm happy to one day share.

Yeah, definitely, definitely.

Anyways, stay weird and don't fall in a bog.

Don't fall in a bog. Wait, I want to know about the other time you fell in a bog. I need to know about that.

Was it in Appalachia?

Are there bogs in Appalachia?

So many questions.

I mean, we have bogs. There's like cranberry bogs.

Yeah, bogs. Some bogs.

But they have spideys.

Yeah. Oh, bog spiders. Yeah, yeah. It's a no for me.

That's so fucked up.

I don't want that.

Okay, our next tale is Can't Stop, Won't Stop, Must Stop, Rest Stop. Damn, I'm obsessed. Hey weirdos, my name is Daniel and I'm from—

Daniel. Hey Daniel.

I'm from the middle of nowhere in upstate New York, currently living in Maryland, getting ready to move to Colorado.

See, Nicholas knew.

He said don't triangulate.

He said too much.

My husband-to-be is in the Space Force, so we'll be moving around a lot. We're getting married next weekend. Oh my God.

Congrats. Congrats.

I'm currently listening to your show, drinking a pumpkin spice espresso martini, and writing my vows. What a wonderful combination. Haha.

That's lovely.

That's the most beautiful combination I've ever heard in my life.

I love it.

I figured I would take a break from writing my vows and tell you about the most raunchy encounter I've ever had. Spoiler, it has a good ending, and I tend to use the, the word raunchy a lot, so you'll know why.

I love this already.

I have been a huge fan of your show for a while now. Shout out to my best friend Avalon, who got me hooked on it.

Oh my God, you and Avalon. Avalon.

Hell yeah. And I've been hooked ever since. I just finished the Albert Fish case. Oh, and boy did I need to shower in bleach and holy water after hearing about that, about what that old saggy shit-eating monstrosity did.

Yep.

He literally looks like a crossbreed of Yzma and Dennis Rader.

Yes.

Fucking Dennis.

You're correct.

He actually really does.

Fucking Dennis.

Anywho, you're probably wondering where this story is going with a title such as this. Well, ladies and listeners, hold on to your butts. And if by any chance you do end up reading this, I do apologize for the length and raunchiness of this story.

Never.

Feel free to edit anything you deem too much or unnecessary.

No, I won't do it.

I'm 2 espresso martinis in and I gotta get this memory off my chest.

Let's go.

Oh, I love when people separate it into parts.

Yeah.

Part 1: Can't stop, won't stop, rocking to the rhythm. I've added that for you. I was driving home from New York on a stretch of highway after Christmas one night, and there was nothing ahead of me but a stretch of highway that went for a good 100 and something miles until reaching a somewhat populated area. It's late and I'm starving, and I need to make it home by morning so I can get a few hours of sleep and make it to work for my afternoon shift. But I need food, so I decided to stop at the next Sheetz I come across.

Sheetz, you say?

Sheetz. I never heard of Sheetz. I don't know about you, but there are some gas stations that have really good coffee, and I love me some Sheetz coffee. I honestly would love my coffee through an IV. Anyhow, I go in, I order a coffee, and I order a chicken sammy with some extra boom boom sauce. Hell yeah, because that boom Boo-Boo Sauce is the awesome sauce.

It sounds awesome. I want to go to Sheetz.

I'm devouring the sandwich in my car with the cashier staring at me through the window as if he was watching an animal at the zoo.

That's judgy.

So I stared right back at him while eating the rest of my sandwich. Hell yeah. It was intense and it was awkward and I loved it. I even licked the bottom of the Boo-Boo Sauce off my wrapper just to gross him out even more. Yeah, I'm obsessed with you. Finally, after satisfying my hunger and need for entertainment, I decided to get back on the road. Part 2: Must Stop.

This is perfectly set up.

I'm like, are you gonna poop? All right, ladies, I don't know if you've ever had Sheetz's Boom Boom Sauce. Can't say I have. We're Sheetz Boom Boom Sauce virgins, but it is probably the most delicious sauce in existence. I could eat gallons of it. Anyway, about 15 minutes after being on the road, I feel this sensation in the pit of my stomach. This worries me because there is nothing but open road ahead of me. Now I completely understand why Sheets calls it boom boom sauce, because after 15 minutes on the road, boom, whatever I ate in the last 2 days fell from the pit of my stomach straight into my lower intestine. I knew I was in trouble. Thankfully, I saw a sign that read, that read, rest stop 10 miles ahead. So I did what any rational human being would do. I undid my seatbelt to take any pressure off my waist, clenched the booty, and prayed to whoever was listening that I made it to the rest stop in time. I was clenching so hard my ass was literally about 6 inches off my seat. I looked like a fucking semicolon driving down the highway.

I prayed for Jesus to take the wheel, but the way I was driving, his ass wouldn't even be in the car. Part 3: Rest Stop. Note: This is about to get raunchy. Proceed with caution.

I'm cautious.

After about 5 minutes and 30 Hail Marys, I finally pull into the rest stop parking area. I noticed there's only one other car there, but this place looks like it hadn't been cleaned since Eisenhower was in office. That's horrible. I swing my door open, lock the car, and run to the bathroom. Thank God no children were around because I was dropping trou before I even made it to the door. I swing the door open and run to the closest stall that was open. Suddenly my soul was at peace, but my body was erupting like Mount Vesuvius. I blacked— I may have blacked out for a second, but I was too out of it to tell. After a few minutes, I finally gathered myself. I noticed that there was another pair of legs in the stall next to me. He too was having a difficult night, as there were interesting sounds coming from his stall. After a moment of listening, I could just hear him laughing. Did you have the boom boom sauce too? I asked. Nah, my wife's chilly, he said. I could tell from his voice that he was an older man. The explosions hit us both, and we were laughing so hard at our current situation.

Here I am Here I am playing battleships with a complete stranger, and suddenly the door swings open. I see another pair of legs walk into the stall next to the old man further down. I wonder if it's John Williams coming to conduct his orchestra of ass, I said. We were both laughing so hard. However, there was nothing but silence from the stranger in the faraway stall. Dang, I heard the old man say. Do you have any toilet paper over there? I'm all out over here.

Dang indeed.

Dang. I chuckled and saw that I had a few rolls in my stall, so I handed one under the stall to him. Suddenly, I heard the old man gasp next to me. I asked if he was okay, and he didn't respond. I started to see his leg shake violently and started to worry. I kept asking if he was okay, but he didn't respond. I called 911 and told the operator I was at a rest stop and the old man is shaking violently in a stall. He asked where I was, and I told him which rest stop I was at. I tried keeping the old man calm and tried to get him to do some breathing exercises. I would have gotten up and helped him, but unfortunately, I was not done yet.

Oh no.

After a few minutes, I could hear cars pulling into the rest stop parking lot. A paramedic burst through the door and starts knocking on stalls. When he gets to my stall, I panic, hoping he's not gonna burst open my door. I tell him the old man is in the stall beside me. He opens the door to the stall beside me, and silence. Nothing. I continue to hear more doors opening further away, and suddenly I hear the paramedic say, we're gonna need a stretcher in here.

Oh, what the fuck?

I'm confused yet relieved that they were helping him. I finished my business, then walk out of the stall and see a young man on a stretcher. I promise I washed my hands. What happened to the old man next to me?

I asked.

There was no one in that stall, but we did find this young man a few stalls down. It looked like he was shooting up in there and he OD'd. They said he was gonna be okay, but that they needed— that's good, he's gonna be okay— but they needed to get him to a hospital immediately. A police officer asked for my statement and I told him everything that happened. Especially about the old man in the stall next to me. They searched the rest stop again, but they never found anyone else. The other car in the lot belonged to the person working at the rest stop. Funny, he does a shitty job at cleaning this place.

Literally.

The police officer recalled that an old man named William did die in this rest stop a few years ago from a heart attack under similar circumstances. After hearing that, I was super confused about the whole situation. I honestly couldn't wrap my head around it for the longest time. I'm not one for paranormal situations, but this is by far one of the weirdest things to happen to me.

Yeah.

Did the ghost of this man appear to me so that I would get help for the kid that overdosed in the stall further down?

Oh shit.

Yeah, that's what I thought. To me, it was something extremely strange, but honestly something I truly hold dear in my heart because I had a great encounter with this old man and he was so nice and funny. He's somebody that I truly would have wanted to get to know as a person. Every time I drive past that stop, I always stop and leave flowers, a roll of toilet paper, and a packet of Boom Boom Sauce on the lid of that toilet.

Toilet. Oh shit, I didn't know you were gonna put it in the toilet.

In the stall of the old man that helped me save that boy's life.

I just got chills.

Daniel. Well, there you have it. Sorry it was so raunchy in detail, but I wanted to make lightheartedness of a sad situation.

Damn.

To me, laughter is the best medicine, and this memory is something I really do still laugh about but also reflect on. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. Hope you both have a wonderful day. Make good choices. Stay away from boom boom sauce and always take a chance and make friends with strangers in other stalls. Lol. Love you, Daniel.

Daniel!

Daniel, that was bonkers.com.

That really was. And I want to know, but it was so heartwarming.

It was heartwarming and heartbreaking. I want to know everything about that old man.

I do too. I love that you guys just had like some moments together.

I mean, I love that you went full dad with your sunglasses and put them on the back of your head. Like, commitment to the character even though they can't see it.

That's right.

Also, you're right, it's hard to read. It is.

Yeah, yeah, my old eyes. All right, this one's called Ghosts and Pimple Patches.

Oh, one thing about me, I fucking love a pimple patch.

Fucking love.

They're so good. Do you ever use a pimple— I feel like you don't.

No, I don't really.

You don't really acne anymore?

No, I did. I acned enough in middle school to last a lifetime.

I didn't acne.

The universe was like, you've paid your debt.

I acne like a little bit in middle school and high school, like very, very minimally. And even still, like, I don't get pimples that much, but when I do— Yeah, you get a whitehead, you put that sucker on the next morning, gone.

That's crazy.

The Mighty Patches in particular.

Yeah.

Sponsor us.

I know I'm going to hold on to— I'm stocking up on some of those because the girls are getting to the age now. They're getting to that age. And I want to be prepared.

Well, now kids love to walk around with like cute stars on their faces and they look adorable.

Hell yeah.

I'm like, I just had to live with my whitehead.

Trust me, it would have been nice. Yeah, would have been nice. I'm glad they have it. All right, so it says, hi, my name is Tova, and yes, you can use my name. Hey, Tova, we're jumping right into this sucker. I love that. I love that about you. This specific story takes place in Sandusky, Ohio. I travel for work frequently, staying overnight in hotels 3 times a month. I had to stay— I had stayed at this specific hotel in Sandusky once before. During that first stay, every light in my hotel room turned on in the middle of the night, jolting me from sleep. I chalked it up to a loss of power and subsequent generator kicking on, so that was the only odd thing that had to occur during my first overnight in the hotel. Fast forward 2 weeks and here I am again at the same hotel. Imagine my surprise when I see that I'm also assigned the same room number. What a coinkydink! The hotel smelled strongly of chlorine. Though I originally thought that the source to be was a pool on the first floor. It emanated throughout the entire hotel.

Someone died there.

It was so overwhelming that I had a near constant nagging headache when I was there. Yeah, that would fuck me up.

Yeah, it'd be gross.

It was because of this that I decided to open the window in my hotel room despite it being 58 degrees that night. It was— I turned off the window unit that was inevitably, uh, recycling the nauseating smell and allowed the cool breeze to fill the room. Tuck this bit of information away for later.

Fresh air is for dead people.

Tucked. I am a complicated sleep girly. Any source of light will result in a fitful night of rest since my circadian rhythm apparently has a deep obsession with staying on schedule. This night I proceeded with my out-of-town ritual using painter's tape to cover the clock on the microwave, alarm clock, etc. My mom is like that. Yep. Like I said, bitch is obsessive. And I use the hangers in the closet to close and fasten together the window curtains. I fell asleep around 20 That's 9, 8 o'clock, I think.

I can't do that.

I think it's 8 o'clock. With the clocks in my hotel room covered, it's hard to say when I was awoken the first time, but at some point I awoke to hear a doorknob gently turning.

No.

Back and forth. I am a side sleeper and am currently facing the door to my hotel room. I see no shadows underneath my door and observe that my doorknob is still. I brush it off as coming from my neighbor's door, another overnighter down the hall. My conscious brain has survival instincts. Thanks. My sleep brain does not. I fall back asleep and I'm again awoken by the same sound, back and forth, back and forth. Still, there are no shadows or movement. My sleep brain is now pissed, frustrated, and thinking it might be the kids who were loudly playing in the room next to me all evening. I turned over and fall back to sleep.

The room next to you is empty.

I'm calling it. I think so. Now I want to preface this by saying that the events in the next paragraph happen quickly. And the span of maybe like 10 seconds. With my back to the door, I'm awoken again, but this time the doorknob is not turning gently. It is being violently shaken. Fuck that. Back forth, back forth, back forth, and then silence. Suddenly my entire body is filled with a feeling of absolute dread, the hair on my arms and neck standing, every alarm in my lizard brain blaring a warning. The seconds drip by when I feel like a bat when I feel the bed decompressed behind me. No. You read that right. As if someone were trying to get into bed with me. No. Heat then fills the space between the back of my ear and neck. Someone is breathing on me.

Stop it right now.

And I'm screaming. Period. I throw the covers off and reach behind me to turn on the bedside lamp. But in that split second of staring into the darkness before light filled the room, I see a man standing in the hallway of my hotel room and in front of the door. The moment light fills the void, he's gone.

What? Oh, the actual fuck.

I was not a popular person that night. Several neighbors and overnighters on my floor rushed to my hotel door after they heard the screaming. Being woken up at 3 AM by hysterical 30-year-old with pimple patches wearing a Pretty Privileged t-shirt had them all questioning their choice of hotel.

And I'm obsessed with you.

I tried my best to explain but was met with wary looks and so 'You want us to call the police?' The police were not called, and I— and reluctantly, I returned to that room. After I regained my composure, my right brain put on her big girl pants and attempted to reason her way through the night's events. But I was left with the following questions. One, none of my neighbors heard the doorknob, so what did I hear? Two, I had turned the window unit off and opened the window to a 58-degree night, but I distinctly felt heat on my neck and behind my ear. So what did I feel? Breath. 3. Lastly, I eventually worked up the courage to turn off the lights again and examine the desk chair, lamp, etc. to determine if what I saw in the hallway could have been a trick of my imagination. But that hallway and the pathway to it were completely empty.

That's fucked.

So what did I see? My husband believes it was a night terror.

Wrong.

My mom believes it was a demon. Correct. And my mother-in-law believes it was a ghost. Also correct. What do you think, ladies? Keep it weird. But not so weird that you develop a fetish for scaring 30-year-old women wearing pimple patches in the afterlife. P.S. Oh, and here's photos of me and my beautiful husband. If you do me the honor of actually choosing this story, I cannot wait to surprise him with it.

Today's your day, baby.

And then casually play it off like it's not one of the most fulfilling and exciting moments of my life. It's because, you know, I'm chill. P.S.S. I am not in the least bit chill. Tova, I loved that.

I love that.

I hate the story though.

I think I think ghost.

It was— I think it might have been a demon. You think so?

Was it the— was it the door rattling?

Yeah, it's angry. It's yucca.

Some ghosts are angry.

And he was like breathing hot breath on it. Hot breath? Yeah, ghosts don't have hot breath.

That's true. That's a valid point.

Demons have hot breath.

Yeah, I don't fuck with that. We just saw Paranormal Activity. Yeah, I, I barely had a restful night's sleep since.

Also, quick little side note aside, If you have not, or if you've heard of Paranormal Activity, like the stage play, yeah, and you haven't, and you're like, I don't know, no, I'm not kidding you, go. It is one of the best things I've seen on stage. I think it's incredible. It was terrifying and it was so fun.

Never been— not an ad, it's not an ad. I've never been more scared in my entire life.

Yeah, no, I'm serious, and I want everybody to go see it because I think it deserves like all the hype.

I keep seeing people, and it's like the perfect way to describe it, people are saying it's the closest they've ever been to like being immersed in a horror film, and I slept with the lights on that night in my room.

She did.

I didn't. Honestly, it's been tough for me to sleep since.

And it's one of those things where you're not sure how, like, a play can be that scary.

Yeah, I didn't know what to expect going into it.

Go give it a shot, it's well worth it.

It's so fucking good. We're actually going again.

Not an ad.

Yeah, not enough.

Just us telling you to do it.

All right, next listener.

That was awesome. I think it was a diamond.

Yeah, you know what, the more I— the more you said, I, I felt compelled by your argument.

Maybe don't.

Oh my God, that's the most beautiful couple I've ever— I'm sorry to anybody else who's ever sent photos in.

To my—

you guys, you guys are the most gorgeous couple I've ever seen in my life. That feels like AI. You're, you're AI pretty. Holy shit, you guys are gorgeous. Zooming in, look at these faces. I did low-key zoom into your, your man's chest. Oh, and your— oh my necklace! And look at him, look at him's tendrils. That head of hair. Yeah, both of those heads of hair. My God.

Wow.

Holy shit. Okay, Tova.

Wow, Tova.

Damn, girl.

Wow, Tova and your husband. Holy shit.

Okay. The time a ghost took my body for a ride, and not in a fun way. Aiden literally was just writing something on his notebook and then I like— and not in a fun way.

And not, not in a fun way.

It was not consensual, if you were wondering. Good morning, spooky hoes. My name is Kale, like the vegetable but with a C, and you can use it. I'm writing this from New York City and it feels a little frantic. I legit almost got hit by a car while walking my dog on Broadway, like hands on the hood of the car, pushing my dog out of the way and ass out like I was about to twerk my juicy ass for all of Harlem to see. I didn't do that because it would have caused an earthquake and we don't need any more buildings falling down in this city. The twatwaffle in the car blamed me even though my light was on. I shook my fist, yelled back, and begged him to hit me to get me out of this insane, insane timeline that we find ourselves in. Are we screaming into the fa— into fascism? Who knows? Ah, okay. So I've been a fan for— of your podcast for 5 years when I started, uh, delivering for Amazon during COVID Oh my God, COVID was that long ago?

Yeah.

Holy shit.

I know.

This must be an older email because it was 6 years ago now.

Oh shit.

A wild timeline.

Good job, math.

Thank you. I also— fuck you. I also got to see you both at Barnes Noble in Union Square when you were launching The Butcher and the Wren, and I still have my signed copy on my shelf. We'll be back for The Butcher Game. Yeah. Get your ass there.

Come back.

I've had a really hard and long 5 years, and listening to your podcast has really helped me out of those places. Through your banter and the bond my sister and I have since we both listen and talk about it. Long story short, I graduated college in 2020 with a music theater degree, literally went home for spring break, and I never went back to school. Lost all my jobs I'd lined up in the industry since theaters shut down, then moved back to my college town, got a dog, met an emotionally manipulative man— don't we always— moved to New York City with him, married that manipulative man, had some really, really hard family things happen divorced that manipulative man because I want strong baddie.

Oh yeah.

And I'm now living my Sex and the City young divorcee lifestyle in New York City.

Get it, girl.

I hate most of that for you, but I love who you've become out of it.

I love where you've ended up.

Well, uh, financially I'm struggling, TM, and I'm chasing my dream of being on Broadway. I'm single. Post my photo on your Instagram so hot men can see me.

Will do.

I love you.

Will do, babe.

Divorce is extremely hard, but I was strong enough to stand up for myself more than I ever have in my entire life.

Good job.

When I was sitting in my empty apartment selling all my shit to Bye. Your podcast echoed through the rooms, keeping me company. Elena, you being so open about your past relationship really helped validate me on how I was being treated. Also, there is an incredible podcast called Navigating Narcissism by Dr. Romani that is absolutely incredible, and I think everyone should listen to it. Hey, good to know. I know a lot of narcissists.

Yeah, shameless plug.

Yeah, we know a lot of them. Shameless plug. I also have my own podcast with my best friend called Queer Insight, where we talk about all things queer. We're smart but mighty and always come and always welcome new listeners. Come party!

Hell yeah, we'll come party!

I want to come party! Oh yeah, we're here, we're queer, and she's an ally. Yeah, an ally. Okay, enough about me, my want for attention, and rambling. I wanted to write in and tell you a wild story that happened to me in a haunted hotel in Chicago, Illinois. Oh, let's go! I always want to say Illinois. Illinois just looks that way. Okay, so to set the scene, every year there are nationwide auditions that happen for college theater programs. They do them by region. One of those regions is the good old Midwest where I grew up.

Ew.

The Midwest region auditions were in Chicago in a hotel called Palmer House. Have we covered Palmer House?

I feel like that's familiar.

I think I, I think I may have picked that one.

I'm gonna look it up.

Maybe you did. I just remember hearing about it. Attached to this are a couple photos of the Palmer House. Clearly we need them. It's absolutely stunning with a really cool history of many performers who have performed there. Louis Armstrong, Eartha Kitt, Frank Sinatra, etc. Since it's an old— since it's old and historic, it's haunted as hell. I think Ghost Adventures did an episode there. Could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure.

I bet they did.

I'm sure they did. If it's haunted in America, they've done it.

Yeah.

Our college would allow a few students to join them to help run the auditions and chat with parents and prospective students. I— the way I could not say the word perspective.

It's hard.

I like spit it out.

It ain't easy.

Perspective. I'm also trying to zoom because I too am old. Now, I am very charming, funny, sexy, and nice, so I was a perfect fit for this. Let's go! I love you. Hell, since the divorce, I'm trying to be more confident in myself, my body, and my personality. Although this came off stronger than anticipated, but I'm gonna leave it because, yeah, you absolutely should.

And Nicholas just said, sure, sure, sure, absolutely, get down with your bad self.

You know what Ma would say? Be boppa loopa, baby. B-Boppa Looppa Baby. And that means get down with your bad self.

In Māori.

In Māori. I went there with 3 fellow students. We got food and money every day. Or food money every day. Not food and money.

Food money every day.

We got food money every day. And we got to go to downtown Chicago for a week. I love Chicago.

Chicago.

Chicago. My best friend lives there and I miss him daily, but I'm happy he's so happy in a city he loves. Similar to me in New York City. It's so hard to live here as the city tells you to fuck off on a daily basis, but there really is an energy here. We all stayed in the same room, which was just really fun, and some of that food money may or may not have gone towards some alcohol as well.

Maybe.

I mean, live. We were there for a full week and had extremely long days. One of the nights we were there, we started to experience some weird things happening in our room. The room was pretty big with two queen beds, a TV, dresser, bathroom, closet, etc. I realize I just described what a normal hotel room looks like, but you get it. My friend, we'll call her Hannah, was getting ready for bed with the dresser drawer open. This was an older dresser that doesn't have the tracks on the drawers, like you pull it out and it takes some force to close it. It had been open for a solid 20 minutes while we were all just watching TV. Out of nowhere, the drawer just slammed shut. We all stopped and looked at the drawer. Hannah, did you close that?

I asked.

'Nope,' Hannah responded. Nope. All four of us sat in silence as Hannah opened the drawer once more and it very slowly closed in front of our eyes. The hanger on the wall just started to swing back and forth. All of us were just straight staring forward, stunned in silence. One of the other girls with us, we'll call her Jamie, said to the room, 'We're sorry we're in your space, but we don't want you here. But we don't want you here and we're going to bed. Good night.' Wow. I love that she was like, 'I know we're in your space, but you can't be in our space.' Sorry we're in your space.

We don't want you here. Good night. Okay.

Hey Jamie, that was brave.

Damn Jamie.

Nothing else happened for the rest of the night. The next morning we were all telling our professors what happened the night before, and we spent a good 30 minutes sharing ghost stories with one another over brunch.

Oh, that sounds fun.

That does sound fun. I'd like to join. Not much else happened the rest of the time we were there until the final night. After a very long week, we all decided to head into the hotel bar for a few drinks. Now, I only had 3 drinks.

3.

I am a thick guy, and my last name in German means intoxication. So I can hold my alcohol. I was tipsy but not drunk. I remember everything from that night. That's important to know. We had a great night, paid our check, and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. We were all very tired, so we settled in quickly and went to sleep. When I awoke, I was walking down the center of the hallway completely alone. I'm blind as fuck, so I had no contacts in, could not see. Thank God I had clothes on and I had locked myself out of the room. What's crazy about this is that in my mind I was questioning what I was doing, but I couldn't stop myself. Like, I was questioning why I was doing, but my body was just walking. I also had to pee, like, legit so fucking bad. In my mind I was like, oh, the lobby has a bathroom, knock on our door until someone wakes up, etc., etc. But my body was just walking and couldn't stop.

What the fuck?

I started going up the stairs and ended up 2 floors above where our room was, still desperately trying to find a bathroom. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I went into a stairwell and pissed in the stairwell of this haunted elegant hotel in downtown Chicago. Like, did you get roofied?

Doesn't it kind of feel like— it does kind of feel like that.

After the emptying of my bladder, I started to think a lot more clearly and decided to head down to the front desk to tell them I got locked out of the room. I still never thought about going back to the room to knock. I went down to the lobby, blind as fuck at 3 AM, and talked to the front desk— talked to the front desk telling them I was locked out. They looked at me strangely. Little did they know what I just did in their stairwell. And they told me security would meet me up there. I waited outside. They let me in and required me to show ID, which I did, and then they left. I went to the bathroom again and looked at myself in the mirror. I can't explain it, but it felt like I almost came to while looking at myself in the mirror. I then crawled into bed and went right back to sleep. We woke up the next morning as if nothing had happened. No one in the room woke up while I left and came back or anything like that. When I told my friends what happened, they were all shocked and confused.

We came up with some theories. Theory 1: I dreamt the whole thing. My friend said maybe when I looked into the mirror, it was me realizing that I was dreaming and it was just a lucid dream. It explains going to the bathroom in the dream was just me going to the bathroom in real life.

Oh, maybe I could see it.

Theory 2: I was just super tired and alcohol mixed with how tired I was and fucked up my Maybe. Theory 3: my drink was drugged. Yeah, I kind of think so.

I'm a little worried about that.

Yeah, I feel like it was. Now, I know this is really scary to think about and made me sick thinking of all the what-ifs. Yeah, but I was at a table with college girls in a really busy hotel. We all got the same drinks. Maybe the drink I got was meant for one of them. I have no proof, but like, why was I so confused and such? That is a really scary theory that I try not to think about.

Out. It is possible.

Yeah, especially knowing that you were at a table full of a bunch of college girls.

I— that makes it more likely.

I think it's the most likely.

Yeah.

The fourth and final theory is that the ghost who was hanging out in our room decided to take my body for a ride to see what they could do. This explains the utter confusion and not being able to control myself, and seeing myself in the mirror was me seeing my body again.

Oh shit.

Could be. I do not know which is the real theory, and for 7 years this has confused and haunted It still really bothers me and brings up uncomfortable feelings thinking about what could have happened, especially if I actually was drugged. I've never had something like that happen again, so I just don't know. Maybe I was drugged, maybe I was dreaming, or maybe I was taken over by a piss-filled ghost ready to unleash their pissy wrath on the city of Chicago.

You know what, I think that was it.

That's pretty fun. Yeah, I like a pissy wrath.

Pissy wrath. Both.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Another time I'll write in about the haunted movie theater I used to work at in high school. Where the doors would slam. We'd hear people walking around, see people sitting in seats that weren't there. Would feel like I was being watched constantly. And one time I saw a little girl walk across the lobby with long black hair.

Is she from The Ring?

Yes, please write about that.

Damn.

Thank you for reading, and thank you, spooky bitches, for bringing joy to my subway rides and making me more aware of my surroundings. Keep it weird, but not so weird that— take it away, Ash. Not so weird that you're just trying to get away and have a good time with your girlies, and neither your drink is drugged or you're overtaken by a ghost who really wants your body to pee all over a hotel. All over a hotel.

Yeah.

P.S., I am a tour guide in New York City where we do historic sightseeing and food tours, and I would absolutely love to take y'all on one.

Oh, hell yeah!

We can be besties and talk about our dogs. I will attach my tourist company website to the email, as well as some photos of the Palmer House, myself, and my gorgeous dog. She is so, so, so cute, but don't let her looks fool you— she's a fucking dick. I love her so much, but she's an asshole. Bye! It's like Bailey. Oh my God, that is— she was such an asshole. Gorgeous. Oh my God, girl, that's a gorgeous hotel.

Holy shit.

Swear we've covered this. Looking at that old-timey picture, we've covered it.

Oh my God, you're the cutest.

So handsome.

Holy shit.

Oh, is that your headshot? Because that's a really good headshot.

Why is everyone so beautiful?

I would kill for dimps.

Let me see.

Oh my God. I love your dog.

Beautiful.

I love your dog so much.

What a beautiful baby.

Oh, another picture. Oh, you're just so cute.

She's zooming in on you.

I love it. Oh, you Angie dog. You Angie doggy dog. Oh my God, look at all these pictures.

I love them.

Oh, you guys, yeah, you give the best vacation listener tales.

You really do.

And we're your dads forever.

We are.

All right, so we hope you keep listening. We hope you keep It weird, but not so weird that you don't go on vacation with your dad and have an alien flamingo good time.

Oh my God.