Good evening, aunties. Welcome to blurry Photos three photos. I am deviling
in Laura and I am the anguished spirit of Beaviingster. You turn, you
turn into a power drill with the Yeah. Oh see, I can't even
fake and anguished spirit. I'm too upbeat. Uh yeah, welcome to the
podcast. We got a fun one in store for you, guys. Oh
man, we have been dangling this carrot in front of you for some time,
and now time has come to put up and not shut up. Better
than putting out and not shutting up, I guess really no, all right,
so happy hollow mess to everyone. Oh that's right. And uh and
and top of a palm Wayne to you? Is there an M in there?
Wayne? Oh yeah, the M d M's Celtic. So yeah,
so you don't um, but I hope everybody's lighting some bonfires and driving some
model ts up on haystacks. Yeah, I mean, and don't fall for
whatever mom and dad do to keep you out of trouble. You you reassemble
that wagon on top of their house. Don't be swayed by delicious candy corn
bobbing for apples, I mean, take their bribes. Do you know how
many people have stuck their face in that bobbing for apples. Yeah, that's
a set bucket. So tonight we've led up to it and now it's time
to deliver. We will be telling ghost stories by candlelights. English tales really
is by candle lights. And you guys are enjoying this, but I find
it romantic and terrifying, mostly because I'm just here with a dude. That's
the terror in the dark. With candles and all we have to console each
other or terrifying ghost stories. It's gonna be great. Absolutely, I'm telling
you right now now, stop listening if you didn't sleep well last night,
because I guarantee you're not sleeping well tonight. I'd also advise stop listening if
you are sitting in the dark going to bed, want to go to bed,
breathing, if you consume any liquids at all. Yeah, see,
this is what no other podcast does, will tell you when you shouldn't be
listening. Oh, listen to us all the time. No, there are
circumstances under which you shouldn't be listening. If you are pregnant, if you
have heart palpitations, if you have diverticulitis, if you aren't tall enough to
ride certain rides. If you're taking medications that suppress your immunal response, if
you have gastrointestinitis, if you have recurrent diarrhea, if you make up words
like gastrointestinitis, the whole thing is inflamed. Yeah, if you have a
raging urinary tract infection, you probably don't want to be listening to this.
You got bigger fish to fry. Moving on, So let's just get started.
Because Flora, I believe that you have a tale that will chill the
soul I do. Indeed, this tale is called the mental patience. A
young woman had just finished nursing school and in need of experience, she volunteered
at the mental health clinic near her home. Because it was her first real
job, she didn't have to deal with the really dangerous mental patients. Instead,
they assigned her to work with the less violent patients, the suicidal,
people that depressed, those who heard voices, those who never said anything at
all, things like that. She worked with a lot of mental patience,
but her favorite was an old man named Arthur. He was mute. He
never said a word, He just sat in his chair and nodded his head.
As the days passed by, she became very close to Arthur. He
was a very good listener. She would talk to him for hours and he
would just listen and nod his head. Told him about her parents, her
friends, all her problems, everything that happened in her life. Most people
would have been bored, but not Arthur. He just sat there and nodded
as she moaned and complained and told him about all the little things that were
bugging her in her life. Arthur just nodded. After several months of working
with Arthur, the nurse decided that he didn't belong in an a sane asylum.
He couldn't be very happy sitting in a room by himself, nodding all
day. That evening, she had a meeting with the supervisor of the clinic.
She said that Arthur didn't pose a threat to anyone and ask him to
be allowed to leave the asylum and live on his own. He was a
gentle soul, He was able to feed and groom himself. He deserved to
be free. There's nothing wrong with him, she said. Arthur just nods.
The supervisor didn't agree with her, but the young nurse wasn't about to
take no for an answer. Every day, after working with Arthur, she
would corner the supervisor and argue with him about the pros and cons of releasing
Arthur into the community. Eventually, the day came when her persistence paid off.
The supervisor finally admitted defeat and agreed to let Arthur go. The young
nurse was overjoyed and rushed to tell Arthur the good news. She told him
he was free. Now he could leave the clinic and live all on his
own. Arthur just nodded. She wrote her name and address on a piece
of paper and thrust it into Arthur's hand. She kept telling him that she
was really going to miss him. Most of all, she would miss talking
to him every day. The young nurse told him to be sure to write
her as often as possible. She wanted to hear how things turned out for
him after his release. Arthur just nodded. The nurse went home that evening
feeling very pleased with herself. She'd finally managed to get Arthur free from the
insane asylum. She told her parents and her sister the good news. Her
months of hard work had finally paid off. When she went to bed,
that night, she fell asleep with a satisfied smile on her face. In
the middle of the night, she was rudely awakened by the sound of screaming.
It seemed to be coming from downstairs. Frightened, she gathered her wits
about her. She jumped out of bed and bravely crept down the darkened staircase.
There in the hall, she found the bodies of her mother, her
father, and her sister. They were lying in a pool of blood.
As she bent over them, trying to see if they were still alive,
she saw a shadow moving across the hallway. She looked behind her and was
confronted by a large figure standing motionless in the doorway. The scream died in
her throat. It was Arthur. He was just standing there, staring at
her. His eyes were wild. In one hand, he held a bloody
axe. In the other hand, he was holding a piece of paper,
the same piece of paper on which she had written her name and address.
The young nurse was shaking with fear. Arthur raised the axe above his head.
His eyes were bugging out of his sockets. Are you here to kill
me? She croaked. Arthur just nodded, So, what's is that a
morality tale? Do we not don't help the insane? People just don't help?
People in mutes are just time bombs? Did did she not ever stop
and think why is he in here in the first place? Yeah? And
why didn't they tell her? Yeah? Also, um, maybe maybe there's
not a bad guy. He has just heard this woman complain about everyone in
your life, and he's like, hey, I'm just returning the favor.
Yeah. It's like the world doesn't need such filthy haints like you, you
know, daddy. No, He's like, hey, thanks for doing me
a sell and getting me out of the psycho pokey. Now I'm gonna yeah,
let me clear up some of your issues. I'm like a therapist,
but with an axe. No, I chop through some issue. See it
for you. I like that one. I like that one a lot,
although the very beginning of it made it sound like it might have been a
pornographic story. Well, Eleanor had just finished nursing school and needed to get
more experience with people. Is that just the way I read? She took
a job in the non violence wing of the insane asylum. I don't know
what doesn't start out that could be a porn. You're right, You're absolutely
right. There's nothing that cannot be turned into a tale of sexual exploits.
I mean, I'm gonna read just a few sentences from the Monkeys Paul here,
and you tell me if it doesn't sound like a porn Okay, okay.
Without the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlor of
Laburnum Villa, the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. See okay,
all right, I'm gonna test it again. I am randomly. I'm
gonna start a random scary story. One time a preacher went to see if
he could put a haunt to rest at a house and his settlement. And
wait, wait, let me reread that. One time a preacher went to
see if he could put a hand to rest in a house in his settlement.
You are right. Every ghost story has a very palpable sexual subcontext.
I'm gonna I'm gonna test this out to story. This is awesome. When
Arthur and Annie went to high school, they fell in love. They were
both big, fat and jolly and seemed suited for one another. So I
have the odyssey. Oh nice, okay, sing to me of the man
mused the man of twists and turns, driven time and again off course once
he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy. I mean that one's probably homo
erotica, yeah yeah, but it still works. Or it's Gooney's fan fiction.
Yeah, because Troy. Everything's over when you ride up Troy's bucket.
All right, Spooky's tale. So that's that's a moral not only of that
story, but probably of this entire podcast. Yeah exactly. All right,
Now this one, this is what I enjoyed because of the sound effects.
So I know that you the listener, have come to expect a very high
quality of folly work, and this story will pay you in that. This
story is entitled Clinkitty Clink. Okay, this one might break our story of
erotic opanies. Okay, an old lady got sick and dying man are talking
about I'm so turned on, right, oh man? That is okay?
All right, seriously, this is where the terror begins. We've ruined these
story deep then it's over, sorry, everybody. This podcast will be entitled
We Ruin Halloween. Okay, we started ruining Halloween with the Pumpkin discussions.
True, Okay, I'm ready now I can do. An old lady got
sick and died. She had no family and no close friends, so the
neighbors got a grave digger to dig a grave for her, and they had
a coffin made and they placed it in her living room, as was the
tradition. They washed her body and dressed her up in her best clothes and
put her in the coffin. When she died, her eyes were wide open,
staring at everything and seeing nothing. The neighbors found two old silver dollars
on her dresser and they put them on her eyelids to keep them closed.
They lit candles and sat up with her so that she would not be too
lonely on that first night that she was dead. The next morning a preacher
came and said a prayer for her. Then everybody went home. Were they
there all night? There's two guys, well, it says everybody went home.
So it sounds like the preacher and the two guys. Maybe she had
no family, no close friends, but there's a lot of folks helping her
out. You do that, and good Christian as was the tradition. Later,
the grave digger arrived to take her to the cemetery and barrier. He
stared at the silver dollars on her eyes, and he picked them up.
How shiny and smooth they were, How thick and heavy They're beautiful, he
thought, just beautifully. He looked at the dead woman with her eyes wide
open. He felt she was staring at him, watching him hold her coins.
It gave him a creepy feeling, so he put the coins back on
those eyes of hers and kept them closed. But before he knew it,
his hands reached down again and grabbed the coins and stuck them in his pocket.
Then he grabbed a hammer and quickly nailed shut the lid on the coffin.
Now you can't see anything, he said, Yeah, you're dirty,
hay, who sees nothing now? Then he took her out to the cemetery
and buried her as fast as he could. When the gravedigger got home,
he put the two silver dollars in a tin box and shook it. The
coins made a cheerful rattling sound, But the gravedigger wasn't feeling cheerful. He
couldn't forget those eyes looking at him. When it got dark, a storm
came up and the wind started blowing. It blew all around the house.
It blew in through the cracks and around the windows and down the chimney.
Buzzoooo, it went busy, busy buzzoo. The fire flared and flickered.
Now these are written out, and that is that is how the wind went
Yep, that's how the hound went to. The grave digger threw some fresh
wood on the fire, got into bed, and pulled the blankets up to
his chin. But the wind kept blowing the busso it went busy, busy,
bussou. The fire flared and flickered and cast evil looking shadows on the
walls. The grave digger lay there thinking about the dead woman's eyes staring at
him. The wind blew stronger and louder, and the fire flared and flickered
and popped and snapped, and he got more and more scared. Suddenly he
heard another sound, clinkety clank, clinkety clank. It went clinkenty clank,
clinkety clank. It was the silver dollars rattling in the tin box. Hey,
the grave digger shouted, who's taking my money? But all he heard
was the wind blowing busy, busy, boozy, and the flames flaring and
flickering and snapping and popping. And the coins going nickety clank. He leapt
out of the bed and chained up the door. Then he hurried back,
but his head had barely touched the pillow when he heard clinkety clank, clickety
clank. Then he heard something way off in the distance. It was a
voice, voice crying, where is my money? Who's got my money?
Who? And the wind blew, busy, busy boozoo, And the fire
flared and flickered and snapped and popped. In the money went clicking, punting,
could clamp. The grave digger was really scared. He got out of
bed again and piled all the furniture against the door. He put a heavy
iron skillet over the tin box. Then he jumped back into bed and covered
his head with the blankets. The money rattled louder than ever, and way
off a voice cried, give me my money. Who's got my money?
Who? Who? And the wind blew When the fire flared and flickered and
snapped and popped, and the grave Digger shivered and show shook and cried,
oh, lordie, lordie. Suddenly the front door flew open, and in
walked the ghost of the dead woman, with her eyes wide open. Staring
at everything and seeing nothing, and the wind blew busy, busy blazzo,
and the money when clikety clanked kikety clank, and the fire flared and flickered
and snapped and popped, and the ghost of the dead woman cried, oh,
where is my money? Who's got my money? Who? Who?
And the grave digger moaned, oh, lordie, lordie. The ghost could
hear her money going kikety clank, kikety clank in the tin box, but
her dead eyes couldn't see the box, so she reached out with her arms
and tried to find it. You know. There's a slight editor's note at
this point. This story also includes um stage notes. What are they?
What's the word I'm looking for? Stage direction? Stage directions, which is
great if you want to turn this story a little sexy, do it as
you will the stage. The stage directions are, as you tell the story,
stand up with your arms in front of you and begin groping around you.
Wink. Can you read that the way it's supposed to be read?
As you tell the story, stand up with your arms in front of you
and begin groping around you. Yeah, that'll do that. The wind went
busy, busy zoo, and the money rattled became a clank, clicking and
clank, and the fire flared and flicked and snapped and popped, and the
grave diggers shivered and shook and moaned, oh, lordy, lordy, and
the woman cried, give me my money. Who has got my money?
Who? Who? Now quickly jump at somebody in the audience and scream you've
got it? So ends the reading. I seriously think that that was that
story was a precursor to about half of the show Stomp. I'll tell you
what. I think that there were some some mistakes made in the writing of
that story. Wind doesn't go busy bazoo. That's a huge issue, and
there's no way for you to do that and maintain an aura of terror.
That's true. Um, I like that. Uh, this story had faked
us sexually right off the bat. It said, dude, this is a
story about some old dead lady. And you're like, oh, well,
I guess, I guess I'll just you know, play, Yeah, they'll
put it on the back burner. This now, this is business time.
But then it's all like stand up and start groping, and I'm like,
oh my god, it's business time. So points to the story for for
pulling a great Shamlan towards the end of the Sexy but the Busy Bazoo.
And honestly, that story would have been a third as long if it weren't
for the fire flaring and flickering and snapping and popping. Yeah, that was
that. That cost it. Points sorry my story. And also that was
like over two dollars, Why would you do that? Would you even if
there was a corpse with two dollars on its face? Would you pick it
up? So that was I thought that was I thought that was overall though,
I enjoyed reading that storgment. I picked it so it was fun.
Can you can you rejoin that? I mean, what do you got?
I mean, like, I guess this is like this is like a breakdance
fight. So I want to see right now if if you're going to serve
me, um maybe we'll try going down to um Ol Bayou country what with
losing Anna's scare fast. That's right. This one's called the dead hand.
We'll see, we'll see what this is. Could also be a dead dart
hard that's right. I need to put more syllables in here. Yeah,
just add I'm just like hes between every letter, all right. The village
huddled on the edge of a vast swamp. As far as one could see,
there were soggy meadows, holes filled with black water. Am I do
you want me to be reading the whole thing in caging? I think ay
that you should and be. This thing started off not sexy, then it
got real figured oh gosh, well okay, so let's yeah, let's okay,
take let's take this one from the top. My Kegians are not gonna
be the great. The village huddled on the edge of a vast swamp.
As far as one could see, there were soggy meadows, holes filled with
black water, and glistening sheets of wet, spongy peach out skeletons of giant
trees, snags people called them, rose up out of the monk Dad,
branches dead and reaching out by long twisted arms. Here that's During the day,
the men in the village cut up peete and hauled it home to dried
self of fuel. But when the sun went down and the wind, sighing
and moaning came in from the sea, the men will quit the leave.
Strange creatures took over the swamp at night, and some even came into that
village. Well, that's what everyone said. People were so afraid they wouldn't
go out along after dawk. Young Tom Patterson was the only person in the
village who did not believe in these creatures. On his way home from work,
he whispered to his friends, day's woe and they jump and run,
and Tom would laugh and laugh. Finally, some of his friends tongued on
him. If you know so much, they says, go back into that
swamp some night and see what comes out of him. I'll do it,
said Tom. I work there every day now once if I ever seen anything
to frighten me, why should it be different a night? Huh. Tomorrow
night, I'll take my lantern to walk out into that willow snagg Now,
y'all, if i'd a scared run, I'll never make fun of use again.
The next night, the man went to Tom Patterson's house to see him.
On his way, dick clouds covered that moon. Now it was the
blackest of nights. When day arrived, Tom's mother was pleading with him not
to go. It'll be all right, he said, there's nothing be afraid
of. Don't be foolish like the rest of them. He took his landing,
and, singing to himself, he headed down that spongy path toward that
willow snag over there, that dairy old snag. Some of them young men
wondered if Tom wasn't right, maybe they was afraid of things that didn't exist.
A few decided to follow him and see for themselves, but they stayed
far behind in case he did runs into trouble. They were sure they saw
dark shapes moving about, but Tom's landing kept bobbing up and down, and
Tom's songs kept floating back to them, and nothing happened. Down Yeah,
Finally they caught sight of that willi snag. There was Tom standing in a
circle of light, looking this way and that, and all of a sudden,
the wind blew out his lantern and Tom stopped singing. The men stood
stock still in the blackness, waiting for something awful to happen. The clouds
shifted and the moon came out. There was Tom again, only now he
had his back pushed up against that willow snag, and he had his arms
out in front of him, as if he were fighting something off. From
where the men stood, it looked like dark shapes were swirling in and around
him. Then the clouds covered that moon again once more. It was Pitcher's
black down Hire. When that moon came out again, Tom was hanging on
to the widow snag with one arm. His other arm was stretched out in
front of him as if something was pulling it. It looked to the men
as if a rotten mold. A hand with no arm or dirt hand grabbed
Tom's hand with one final wrench. Whatever had hold of Tom jerked him into
that muck. Or that's what the men said. When them clouds blotted out
that moon once more, the man turned and ran through the darkness toward that
village again and again they lost that path and fell into that muck and water
holes, and in the end they crawled back on their hands and knees.
But Tom Patterson wasn't with them. In the morning, people searched everywhere for
Tom. Finally they gave him up for lost. A few weeks later,
toward evening, villagers heard a cry. It was Tom's mother down here.
She was rushing down that path from a swamp, shouting and waving. When
she was sure the villagers had spotted her, she turned and ran back,
and off they went after her. They found young Tom Patterson by the Willis
Snag, groaning and gibbering as if he had lost his mind. He kept
pointing with one hand at something only he could see, but where his other
heads should have been, there was nothing but a ragged stump using blood down
here. That hand had been ripped clean off. Everybody said it was a
dead hand that had done it, but nobody really knows. Nobody would ever
know Tom Patterson, and he never spoke another world A girl? Oh what
Tom Patterson learning himself a thing? It turned about the swamp? Ta's you
going on swamp down hill? Would you be going on on swamp owning out
hire? So? I just no offense to any of our Cajun friends out
there, that that's all I got. All I want to do is to
show you that we don't dislike Cajun people. We're huge on the bike.
I'm trying to flatter you as much as I can there because it's awesome.
So, like, what is the category for that story? Is that like
swamp? Is that cautionary tale? Is that respect? Yeah? It has
to be because because he was he was boasting and bragging at the top of
it, righting, and then he got his in the end, yeah,
which is still not fair. I mean you say he got his like he
did something wrong. I mean his only crime was being rational, for which
he was punished. That's right. Being rational has no place in the world
of ghosts, which is to say our world. Thunderstand. I like that.
I feel like there was a particularly ethereal quality to that one, to
that thunderstand. Yeah, it was like a spooky thunderstound, Like it's like
the thunderstand that happens at just the right time in the story, you know,
and it kind of lights up the reader's face for a second, and
it's a skeleton face, like Tom Patterson, what do you? What do
you got? Now? All right, I have I've decided to go random
on this one. I have selected a story at random because I just enjoyed
the title and I have read nothing of the story itself to be fun.
So at this point I cannot confirm or deny the erotic content to this tail.
I can. We've already established that it's chopped full of Yeah. Yeah,
it's statistically speaking, you're probably gonna get a little worked up about this
one. This is gonna light some fires, all right. This tail of
misery and woe is called somebody fell from No, it's important to say that.
Like it's like it's like a loft. It's one word. It's a
loft, like from on high, not necessarily like a loft, a loft,
a loft apartment right, hipster f Yes, some real estate speculator fell
from his can you know, refurbished warehouse building loft. I had signed on
as an ordinary seamen. Yes, when you just when you just spin the
wheel, you win, you win. He'd signed on as an ordinary.
I had signed on as an ordinary seaman on the falls of that Trick,
a merchant ship bound for England. The first time I saw that ship,
I knew her right away. She was the old Gertrude spurs shoe. Sorry
old he knew the ship, so Okay, he signs up to be on
a ship and it's called the Falls of Etric But he knows when he sees
her, because he's a man who knows his ship. They renamed her.
That's the old Gertrude spurs shoe. Oh. I had sailed on her years
before when she was painted brown and gold. Now she was painted black and
with a new name. But that was the same ship for sure. We
had a pretty good crew for that voyage, except for one hard looking ticket
named McLaren. I don't describe enough people as tickets. Yeah, I'm putting
that in a lexicon of this dirty old ticket over. What's that hate doing
with that ticket? Can we go to another bar? This place is haytes
and tickets everywhere, Oh, Mal, hayte and ticket. It sounds like
like an English pub. John Barley Corn all right, back to the terror.
Except for one hard looking ticket named McLaren. He was a pretty good
seaman, but there was something about him I didn't trust. He was kind
of secreted, kept mostly to himself. One day somebody told him that I
had worked on the old Gertrude for some reason. He got all the tremble
over that. Then I catched him, honestly, then I catched him giving
me all these ugly black looks. Catched all right, So that means you
need to read it from from henceforward as a pirate. You're absolutely right,
you are God, you got all right. Sorry, we cheated you.
The listener out of that. The beginning of that, well, this is
what happens when you spin the wheel, and we're adapting as best we can.
Back to the terror. Okay, one day somebody told him that I
had worked on the old Gertrude for some reason. He got all a tremble
over that. Then I catched him giving me all these ugly black looks,
as if he was itching to knife me in the back. I guessed it
had something to do with the Gertrude, but I didn't know what. Well,
this one day, we was trying to work our way through a dripping
black fog. You had scarcely no we had the lights on. I know
us dead. Call him, but there wasn't a breath of fresh air.
The ship just lay there, wallowing in a trough, a rolling and a
rolling going nowheeres. I was standing my watcher on the midships. McLaren was
doing his trick at the wheel. Dirty tickets are. The rest of the
crow was scattered around one place or another, and I as quiet as could
be, and then all at once, whack hole. This thing hits the
deck right in front of McLaren. He lets go a screech that turns me
blood cold, and he falls down in a faint McLaren, a second mate,
starts yelling that somebody has fallen from aloft. Laying out there just four
to the wheel was someone or something dressed in oil skins and blood oozing out
from underneath. The captain ron and fetched a big light from his cabin so
as we could see what it was. They kind of straightened him out to
get a good look at his face. It was a big, ugly looking
devil, but nobody here knew who he was or what he was doing up
there, at least nobody was saying. When McLaren come to from his faint,
they tried to get something out of him. All he did was jabber
away and keep rolling those big wild looking eyes of his. Sectionally, ever,
one was getting more and more excainted. Yeah, we all wanted to
heave the body overboard as quick as we could. There was something weird about
it, as if it wasn't real, But the captain wasn't so sure about
good and rid of it that week. Could it be a snow away,
he asked, but the ship was we what what does the captain sound like?
He's a good ship's captain. It's a merchant craft out of Newportshire,
Sure, he had to fill in his roster with some of the rougher looking
men on the docks. But the dip theory I just moved through. Really,
I mean, I can't, I can't. I can't do more pirate.
I can't pirate a captain and then be like, oh, well this
is a this is a South Yorkshire pirate. Yeah, yeah, you're right,
you're right. I want to do that. Thank you if you don't
want to double down on your pirate, because that's what you would have to
do, right, I have to be super pirate exactly. There's no more
I mean, it would be unintelligible. I'll just be all yark and clerk
and flair. German pirates, Swedish German pirate. They happened. There wasn't
like a monopoly on who could be a pirate. No, there's lots of
countries, touches and seas. Yeah see sexual All right, where were we?
Yeah? The captain, he's a company man, he was educated.
Rear admiral. Yeah, could it be a stowaway? He asked? But
the ship was so full with lumber we were carrying there was no space where
a living thing could hide. For three weeks? Did they put the lumber
in the crow's nest though, really, because didn't the thing fall from the
aloft? It fell from aloft, but presumably there was like a lookout that
went up to the crow's nest. I guess the lumber was not in that
slashy trough. Yeah, it was a black, dripping fog and a slashy
trough. Sorry, sorry, sorry, I've derailed this. This derails itself.
Okay, there was no space where eleven thing could hide for three weeks,
which is how long we'd been out. Even if it was a stowaway,
what was it doing aloft in such a dirty day. There was no
reason for anyone to be up there. There was nothing to see. Finally,
the captain gave up and told us to heave him overboard. Then nobody
would touch him. That made ordered us to pick him up, but nobody
made a move. Then he try coaxing, but that didn't do any good.
Suddenly that Lonie McLaren starts yelling, I handled him once and I can
handle him again. He picks up the body and staggers over to the rail
and with it he's just about to throw it overboard when it wraps. It's
two big long arms around him, and over they go together. Then on
the way down one of them starts laughing in a horrible way, and the
it's a yelling to launch the boat. But nobody would get into a book,
not on a night like that. We threw a couple of life preservers
after him, but everybody knew they wouldn't help. So that was that?
Or was it? Oh, okay, so fog just debilitates a crew.
Yeah, on a night light. Didn't even have lights out on the deck.
They had to be in the captain's core, right, Captain Captain's Log,
third of June eighteen fifty seven. It's one of those nights, enough
said XO XO winky face signature. You know, you know how ships are
six hundred years ago? Oh thank god, we don't have nights like that
anymore, Thanks Obama. But that was that wasn't the sarcastic one. I
was really thankful he stopped those He stopped those misty dripping nuts. More lullan
and a trough for us. We were never finishing this tale of mysterious horror.
Okay? Where was oh yeah, the big cliffhanger, or was it
the first chance I had to go home. After that, I went right
over to see Captain Spurshoe who was captain when the Gertrude was around? On
account, I guess name being perspersial. Why did I mean, really was
the captain Phineas J. Dutchman? Yes, no, he was just he
just flew a lot. Yeah, yeah, can't queen the Queen Anne's Blackbeard.
Yeah that was the name of her nethers. Yeah that's little known fact.
Yeah, Queen Anne, but many's the ticket who wrecked up on her
tours. Oh my god, you know what this story is just like a
pool to swim around in this Okay, sorry, okay, here we got
blamed myself. Oh that was the investigator. Okay, who was captain when
the Girtrude was around? He was a captain, all right, so don't
get mad when he has a better They're all good. Well, he says,
wait, damn it. Who was captain when the Gertrude was around?
Well, he says, one ship is two outlandishmen shippable to Gertrude. One
of them was McLaren, the other was a really big fellow. The big
one was always picking on McLaren and thumping him around, and McLaren was always
talking about her, who would get back at him. Well, this wet,
dirty night, this wet dirty night, the two of them was up
okay, dear it. Okay, so he is Oxford educated, but he
keeps some provincial colloquialisms in his speech. It's right. Well, this wet
dirty night, the two of them was up there alone, and the big
one come flying down, killed himself, deader than a herring. McLaren says
the footrope they were using parted, and how he almost fell himself. But
everybody who saw that rope knew she didn't give away on her own. She
had been cut through with a knife. After that, whenever we came into
port, mccleman thought we were going to get the police after him. He'd
get pretty scared, but we couldn't prove anything, so we didn't try.
In the end, I guess the big fellow took care of things in his
own way. If he was a ghost that came back, that's what he
was. If there'll be things like ghosts, I'm so glad that that captain
took the time between his Safari hunts for big African game to command the Gertrude
Spurshue May, there was a bit of a kafaffeo with South South Beachman's Explorers
Club, and he decided it was best he set out on a merchant in
trade for a while, named the ship after his wife, miserable hate as
she was, but came with a lovely dowry. Not to boob joke.
Her family was wealthy, couldn't marry just in your ticket out there used words
like ain't and who so it as to make himself don't feel too far above
his crew? Who will won't to give him snuggies? She did not enjoy.
Yep, that's that's what happens when you pick a random tale and pirate
lore. And that's what happens when I wreck it for you. Oh my
god, do you really do you think you're you think you're the one who
ruined that? No, the author did. Um. There was some guy
in the in the audience for Failure to Launch who made a joke and everyone's
like, well now it's ruined touchet, all right, So I'm gonna pull
him here. This is a this is a nice little nursery rhyme that you
can tell your kid to make him go to sleep. Never. This is
called burning it. When the busy day is done, and my weary little
one rocks gently to and fro, when the night winds saw fully blow,
and the crickets in the glen chirp and chirp and chirp again, when upon
the haunted bay devils dance around their prey. Then from yonder misty skies comes
the thing with burning eyes, through the murk the mist and gloam to our
quiet cozy home, where to singing, sweet and low rocks a cradle to
and fro, where the clock's dull monotone tells us that the day is done.
Where the moonbeams hover o'er playthings sleeping on the floor, where my weary
wee one lies, Comes the thing with burning eyes. It comes like a
fleeting ghost from some distant, creepy coast. And no footsteps will you hear
as that beast draws ever near. Not a whisper, not a word from
that fearful thing is heard by the pale moon's eerie light. With a heart
that's full of spite, and the depths of darken'd skies, comes the thing
with burning eyes with flapping wings. It comes upon my dear weary little one,
and those claws do outward spread to clasp the little curly head, seem
to fondle and caress every little silken tress. Then she smooths the eyelids down
over those two eyes of brown, and such soothing tender. Wise comes the
Thing with burning eyes, dearest, feel upon your brow that caressing magic.
Now for the crickets in the glen, chirp and chirp and chirp again.
When upon the haunted bay devils dance around their prey, and the moonbeams hover
o'er claythings sleeping on the floor. Hush, my sweet from yonder skies,
comes the Thing with burning eyes. Now go to sleep. Yeah, now
I'm going to turn the lights off and leave the room. I don't get
that, is it. It sounds like it's actually kind of nice. Yeah,
pets your head, but it's got burning eyes and it hangs out with
Devil's Bay. Yeah. That's a confusing one. Yeah, each each one,
it's like it's like it's bringing you in and there's pushing you away,
or it's bringing you in. It's stabbing you in the face, and then
it's bringing you in. Yeah, it's all a trap. It's all tar
so like that. Okay, okay, I've got I've got I've got a
ghost story that I read. In my research, I was able to find
the world's worst ghost story. This is a terrible tale of just nothing,
and it is somehow considered to be a scary story. The funny thing is,
I mean, there's a bigger competition for this title than for the best
ghost story. Yeah, yeah, really this is a bottom heavy market sexual
all right. This is called the Big Toe. Now there are a few
versions of it, so if your version differs, I don't want to hear
about it. Much like we will honestly tell you the circumstances in there which
shouldn't listen to our podcast, I will honestly tell you when I want none
of your feedback. And this is that time an old woman was out in
the woods collecting mushrooms when she happened upon a big, large toe. It
was a particularly large and meaty toe, so she kept it. Her plan
was to take it home and cook it up in her soup and eat it
for dinner. Honestly, this is the story she saw Big tones like dinner.
It's a meaty toe. Times is tough, yo, Thanks Obama.
Oh what can't we flavor a story that's like the ranch dressing of phrases.
The old woman takes the toe home, and as she plans, cooks it
up in her soup for dinner, and eats it that night as she's slipping
into bed. She's just about to fall asleep when she hears distantly, whears
my toe, and she huddles into her blankets, thinking to herself, but
I found in the woods. I couldn't possibly know where I am. Now
I'm safe here, And again she hears nothing. From long, long minutes,
It is just about to fall asleep, when somewhat closer she hears whears
my toe, And again she huddles deeper into her blankets, swearing there's no
one who could find her in her home. She didn't see anyone in the
woods that day. And she waits and she waits, and this time,
sooner than before and closer than ever, she hears the mournful cry whears my
toe, And this time she cries out, I don't have anything. Go
away, And the reply, right outside the door to her small cottage,
whears my toe. She says, get away, get away, I don't
have any toe of yours. She closes her eyes as hard as she can,
and she hears the sound of splintering wood, and then in her cottage
she sees just a dark shape, silhouetted by the fire, bellowing wears my
toe and she looks up at the shape and she's so terrified that she loses
all sense and says, I have it. I ate it for my dinner,
and the large dark shape says, yes, you did. The next
day, no one could find the old woman. They saw the damage to
her front door, and all they could find was one large footprint missing a
toe, And everyone in the village agreed, this is the worst story.
We haven't ever hurt Bogaty, Bogaty, I'll scare your dad, all right.
So that's a lot like clinking to clank and yeah, but it's worse
because there's this moment where the giant was it a giant that was missing his
toe and a leg apparently if they only found one footprint, right crutch.
And then when it gets to deliver its line, when it gets its big
moment, it's just like, yeah, you did do that? Like what
who eats a toe? Like it's the there's the beginning of it, like
coume on at least explained that she was starving, maybe, or that she
was a pre existing cannibal. Maybe she's a witch and witches and toes are
lucky. There's just a million reasons why that story could have been better or
interesting, and most of them start with telling a different story and then continuing
on with a different story. Yeah, oh, man, worst story ever.
Sorry, sorry you guys. M oh, here's a good thing.
I would love it, though. I don't want to hear about how bad
my story is. But if you have a worst story, yeah, please
link it to us. Send us an email. I would love to hear
a worst ghost story. Contact us on our contact page on blurry photos dot
org. Send us a horrible Halloween story. Huh, might just read it.
Yeah, wait, we'll do that. Might take us a year,
but we'll read. No, Actually, we'll have a because you know what,
Halloween is on a Wednesday this year, so technically the weekend to either
side is legit Helloween territory. So it's make a little extra bump out of
this Halloween. There's not the finality of a Saturday night Halloween this year.
You know. The The other thing is Christmas time, used to be the
time to tell ghost stories, so maybe maybe we'll tell some a couple more
for the old Yule time. Yeah, you know. I actually because I
was looking for the best ghost stories and I found a list top ten ghost
stories in all of history, and like number one, Charles Dickens a Christmas
Carol funny. Huh. Yeah, I felt like that was a sucker punch
ending. I mean, the Jacob Marley part is is kind of freaky.
Yeah, you know, then in the death part obviously and two and eighteenth
century reader that that was shat material. Yeah, that was chatting. Yeah,
those people literally had to institutionalize them no less than six months after reading
that. They were giving a silent passes away like candy too. Okay,
I've got a good one. I've got a great story. And this is
actually one of my favorites. This is a scary story that I really did
enjoy as a kid. And I'm changing the name of the Indian because it's
more fun. I hope anyone out here has seen the Jim Jarmusch classic movie
dead Man, because it's it's an awesome movie. And I'm naming the Indian
after that because the Indian's name in this book doesn't even sound Indian. Defago
with like an accent. Defago, Yeah, something like that's ridiculous. That's
not what you name an Indian. So I'm changing it. I'm taking some
license. It's in our podcast. We can do what we want. I
don't care America, Thanks Obamama. The Window. A wealthy man wanted to
go hunting in a part of northern Canada where a few people had ever hunted.
He traveled to a training post and tried to find a guide to take
him, but no one would do it. It was too dangerous, they
said. Finally, he found an Indian who needed money badly, and he
agreed to take him. The Indian's name was Xaba Chey. I remember that
They made camp and the snow near a large frozen lake. For three days
they hunted, but they had nothing to show for it. The third night,
a windstorm came up. They lay in their tent, listening to the
wind howling and the trees whipping back and forth. To see the storm bedd
the hunter opened the tent flap, but what he saw startle him. There
wasn't a breath of air stirring, and the trees were standing perfectly still,
Yet he could hear the wind howling, and the more he listened, the
more it sounded like as if it was calling Xaba Chay's name. X saber
Chey, it called, x Sabchey. I must be losing my mind,
the hunter thought. But xaba Chey had gotten out of his sleeping bag.
He was huddled in a corner of the tent, his head buried in his
arms. What's all this about, the hunter asked. It's nothing, said
Xavier Chay. But the wind continued to call him, and Xaba Chay became
more and more tense and more restless. Xabachey, it called, what saber
chee. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and began to run from the tent,
but the hunter grabbed him and rustled him to the ground. You can
leave me out here, the hunter shouted. Then the wind called again,
and Xaba cha broke loose and ran into the darkness. The hunter could hear
him screaming as he went. Again and again he cried, oh, my
fiery feet, my burning feet of fire. Then the voice faded away and
the wind died down. At daybreak, the hunter followed Xaba chase tracks in
the snow, and they went through the woods, down toward the lake and
out onto the ice. But soon he noticed something strange. The steps Xavichay
had taken got longer and longer. They were so long no human being could
have taken them. It was as if something had helped him hurry away.
The hunter followed the tracks out into the middle of the lake, but there
they disappeared. At first, he thought Xhabu Jay had fallen through the ice,
but there wasn't any hole. Then he thought that something had pulled him
off the ice into the sky, but then made no sense. As he
stood there wondering what had happened, the wind picked up again. Soon it
was howling as it had the night before. Then he heard xavi Chay's voice.
It was coming from above. And again he heard xaba Chase screaming,
my fiery feet, my burning feet. But there was nothing to be seen
now. The hunter wanted him to leave that place as fast as he could,
and he went back to camp and packed. Then he left some food
for Xaba Jay and he started out. Weeks later he reached civilization. The
following year, he went back to hunt in that area again. He went
to the same trading post to look for a guide. The people there could
not explain what happened to Xabitcha that night. They had not seen him since
then. Maybe it was the wind, ago, one of them said,
and he laughed, it's a post to come with the wind. It drags
you along at great speed until your feet are burned away, and the more
of you than that. Then it carries you into the sky and drops you.
It's just a crazy story, but it's what somebody Indians see a few
days later, the hunter was at the trading post again. An Indian came
in and sat by the fire. He had a blanket wrapped around him,
and he wore his hat so you couldn't see his face. The hunter thought
that there was something familiar about him, and he walked over and asked,
are you Xabacha? The Indian didn't answer, do you know anything about him?
No answer. He began to wonder if something was wrong. The man
needed help, but he couldn't see his face. Are you all right?
He asked, no answer. To get a look at him, he lifted
the Indian's hat. Then he screamed, there's nothing under the hat but a
pile of ashes. My goold Yeah, I like the wind to Ghost story.
I do too. I think that is a cryptid we might cover in
a future podcast. Man, I like it when we can link them together
once again. Xabache means who speaks much and says little Jim Jarmusch. Dead
Man Johnny. It's got Johnny Depp and what he loves Johnny Depp? What?
What year was this? How old is it? Late nineties before he
was like super huge. But here's a big deal then anyway. But it's
just a great movie. It's shot all in black and white. Iggy Popa's
in it. Yeah, what's it about. It's about a guy who is
traveling west for an accounting job, and by the time he gets there,
he doesn't have a job and he's just stuck in this crazy Pacific Northwest frontier
town that's really dark, and it's about his adventures there. And there's a
reason that he's known as the dead Man because he likes the Undertaker. Yeah,
exactly. He's a pro wrestler and he brings wrestling to the West.
Have you ever seen the movie Ravenous? No. I feel like they reference
the window go in that, but more so the thought that being becoming a
cannibal or eating another human's flesh would turn you into a windo goo, which
makes you crave right see now that's that was my confusion because the window Go
story that I read that I love so much as a kid was about a
bunch of Native Americans who get like trapped in a cave by snow and they
finally resort cannibalism, and how all of them are like gagging and the throwing
up. They can't they can't do it. But what I's like, dude,
this isn't awesome. This this Larry is off the hook and and that.
Yeah, And then they get out of the cave, but he can't
stop eating, like and he becomes the wind to Go. He goes off
into the now he haunts the mountains, preying on travelers because he can't stop
eating flat Yeah. And and the I think the Windo Goo that I'm familiar
with was more along the more along the lines of what was in this story
of like, you know, it's almost like a werewolf almost that that kind
of speeds you along until you burn up, and I don't know, it's
yeah, oh you all have to check that out. It occurs to me
that for the purposes of this story, like is it just the wind to
go? Like wind to go? But that's I think that's part of Yeah,
of the tail too, because it has stuff to do with with the
wind, the howling wind and the cold and stuff. Yeah, that be
a great subject to cover one day soon in the midst of winter. Oh
yeah, that's a good time when you're all hold up in your house.
Yeah, when wind is howling, and when poor mel Evans is hold up
with her ex, stuck by by snow and blizzards reviewing the movie Ravenous.
Yeah, so that that's our friend mel Evins with an hour with your ex.
Their podcast could be an eternity who devours? Who find out this winter
with your check that out on iTunes or pod bean. Um. So I
think that brings us to a close of our stories for this wonderful Halloween.
Yeah, I blow out the candle, turn the lights up, snuggle down,
and don't open your eyes. Yeah, whatever you hear, it's just
nothing's there. You're gonna be fine unless you have a creepy doll, in
which case you will be dead by you. And if you have a door,
a closet, a bed, a phone, oh or if you've eaten
a toe for dinner, you're also left. Yeah, you're truly or truly
left for any any of those toes for dinner. If you are able to
say nope, I have not checked any of these off my list, then
bless you and good night. Yeah, the Sleep of Angels is your reward
chase. That's the sleep of swim there for you, Tarbio kill. Another
movie, pick Darby o Gil and the Little People. You would think,
because it's entirely about leper cons that it's like a great movie for like Saint
Patrick's Day, which I guess it is an excellent Halloween movie. It's got
banchees in it, a spectral carriage, it's terrifying, and it's a young
Sean Connery. That's true. It's a great movie. Sean Connery goes well
with any holiday. When did I just start outing with like movie suggestions,
Well, when we were talking about when we started plugging an hour with your
act to help them get some suggestions I don't like the movie popped in my
head. I was like, hey, I know we're all doing something,
but I'd like to take a few moments out for on Golden Pot. Peter
fond is excellent work and uh, all right, so so we're gonna do
uh, we're gonna do some puns for you. Yeah, we've got something.
We got some scary story puns. I've got one. It's a it's
an adult diaper called When'd I Go? Yeah, that's at Yeah, I'm
pretty pleased with that. Wow. Wait, wait to start off. My
mine are not going to be nearly as good as that. Um mine is
um an orthodontist called the dental patient where you tell you tell the just your
problem and he just nods. Um. Pretty bad. All right, I've
got one. I've got one in my grand tradition of just not doing a
pun and coming up with the product instead. Okay, you're ready for this.
I tried to incorporate your Louisiana because I enjoyed your accents so much.
Okay, Grandpa crowdads, country Cajun big toe and endo. We sausage a
tofae with real juicy chunks a big toe and rich sausage flavor. There's probably
an asterisk like mourning an anti climactic running with a giant will ensue a shadow
giant. Yeah, oh nice, Yeah, how about that? It's really
done. I was pretty proud of it. I mean, I tastes like
you stick your foot in it. Oh, good morning, y'all. A
lot big toe ana wadu. I got a big bubbling pot, a big
twoif toufuh'd say Grandpa Crawford himself. Oh that's I should have saved the wind.
I go for the second part, or should have ended bigger should Yeah?
Uh? My mine are really poor this week? Um? This week?
Yeah, um, I've got a creepy nursery rhyme themed jim called burning
Thighs and it and the the elliptical caresses them. You your golden locks,
sons tresses? Um, I prefer Queen Victoria's black Beard. Well, I
think that that we have certainly wrung all the terror out of our souls.
We're just gibbering idiots staring into the abyss now. Yeah, thanks Nietzsche.
What what you can do, though, to save us is go to blurry
photos dot org and yeah, poke around there for a little bit. Recommend
us to some friends. Why not? Yeah, all your friends are like,
I don't hear any good puns. No more, I don't hear enough
jackass room. Go on the iTunes and give us, give us a rating,
yeah, preferably good. But however, you see fit right. We're
not gonna tell you how to how to live your life. We're not.
We're not big government, thanks Obama. Yeah that never gets old. You
can say that for anything. Um and uh yeah, I write us a
review, give us some feedback, give us a pun for goodness sake,
Yeah, earn a certificate. There's one out there to be Yeah, there's
there. We've got one that's the deadline of which is drawing. Now right,
Well you got you get like a little better than a month. But
um yeah, tell us your favorite crappy ghost story yet, I mean just
the dumbest one, yeah, or one that you've survived that'd be cool.
Like how about like maybe one that you swear is true. I don't care
it's true. Just tell me it's true. Just tell us lie to me
and make sure it has an erotic opening. Ye. They all follow us
on Twitter, blurry underscore photos and like us on Facebook. Do all that
stuff. You can do it in five minutes just sitting at your computer.
Who can you would love to converse with you on the Facebook or the twitters.
Yeah we're on there, we we right, back. Yeah, we
right back hard. You won't believe it, then you will believe it because
it happened. Most importantly, happen how. I'm David Staff. Bye, Stand big