Either kids, it's me, mister creepy apasta. And before we get started
on tonight's story, let me tell you about Midnight Mytch. Midnight Myths is
a game I actually worked on. I did the coding for this along with
my friend General Drowned for a game jam, the first one we ever did,
as well as this is the first game that we ever did. If
you guys would like to check it out, it's for free on itch dot
io. I'll put a link in the description down below. Just want to
let you guys know about it and see if I can get some opinions on
the first game. If you guys liked this, what you want to see
more of or if you want me to do more games in the future.
And now onto tonight's story. Ralph walked a lot, like every day a
lot. He lost his car a few years ago during the pandemic, not
because he couldn't pay for it, but because he had a habit of driving
drunk and the cops took his license after the third time, so it didn't
make a lot of sense to have it. He had walked ever since and
it kind of helped with his sobriety. He was a bit of a mess
before that, drinking a lot, throwing up to work hung over, eating
too much fast food. But the walking had helped him drop a lot of
weight and had kind of made him not want to drink. Walking while you
were drunk was kind of miserable, and when walking was your means of transportation,
you get pretty good at avoiding things that left you unable to do it.
Ralph was coming into town on Tuesday, walking up the sidewalk that led
from the trailer park that he lived in to the grocery store when he saw
the first sign. It was a normal enough white sign with big block letters
the top that read missing. The thing that stopped him was the face that
looked out from the sign. It was a guy of about three hundred pounds,
fitting hair pulled back into a ponytail in deep bags under his eyes.
He was a deeply unhappy man, a man who looked like he was just
looking for a hole to die in, and if it had a beer in
it, then all the better. The eyes that stared out of that poster
looked like the eyes that stared from between the bars of a drunk tank,
and they had more than once. Ralph reached out and took the sign,
staring into the eyes that he hadn't seen in years. He was looking at
himself, just a past version of himself, a version two or three years
out of date. Out of date was a good way to describe it.
Like spoiled milk missing Ralph Gilbert, address nine seven three to three earring Way,
Trailer seventeen, last seen April twenty third, twenty twenty three, walking
along the shoulder of the road, Call filibuster Sheriff's office with any information,
cash reward, possible cash reward. Ralph thought it was weird to think that
someone would be willing to offer a cash reward for someone like him, but
he supposed it was possible. The friends he had now certainly valued him more
than his bitch of an ex wife or or either of his ungrateful children,
had more than the family he had left two for that matter. He put
the flyer back up, thinking it was weird that they hadn't just come out
to the house to see if he was there. He had been there for
a week after the the what he thought the night that something happened, something
Ralph couldn't really remember. He kept walking up the street, enjoying the later
afternoon as it dwindled towards dusk. This was his favorite time to walk.
He thought the weather was hot even for early May, and he spent most
days inside due the heat and the way the sun had made his eyes hurt.
Lately, the evening walks were about the best thing for him, and
he couldn't wait till autumn came and he'd stand to walk during the day again.
The last thing he wanted to do was lose his progress. Two thy
twenty one had been a pretty turbulent year for Ralph, but not all of
it had been bad. He had started noticing the walking was making him lose
weight and that he felt better about being more active. He would have been
very easy to sit on his couch and feel bad about it. He had
certainly done that for a while, but as his food ran out and the
money had gotten from the disability payments it started to dwindle. He knew he
was going to need to do something. That was how the walking had started.
Walked to the grocery store, walked to McDonald's, walked to the twenty
four to seventh pill that he worked nights at, and walk home After a
while. People in the trailer parks started noticing that he was walking, and
they would offer to pay him if he would walk their dogs. Pretty soon,
Ralph had a bunch of MutS on leashes and he became known as the
dog Man. Soon people came to walk their dogs with him, and Ralph
felt like he finally had friends. He hadn't had friends since high school,
and the ones he had then had never led him into anything healthy. These
guys were walking with him, helping him find shoes that wouldn't pinch his feet
and give him blisters, suggesting pants that wouldn't give him a heat rash,
And one day Ralph hopped on the scale and discovered that he had lost fifty
pounds. By twenty twenty two, it was one hundred, and by the
next year he was at one eighty and feeling better than he ever had.
His trips to McDonald's were down to once a week, His dog walking was
making enough money to keep his bills paid and his fridge filled, and Ralph
felt better than he had in years. He had felt like that right up
until last week, when something had happened. As Ralph came into town,
he saw more of the signs hanging on the poles, and was a little
curious as to why no one had come to the trailer to check on him.
If they were so worried he had been there all week, they could
have come and knocked. Ralph had been kind of out of it the last
week, though, and he was worried that he might have something he barely
remembered stumbling home after whatever had happened. Ralph hadn't liked that. He reminded
him of being drunk and out of control again. How many times had he
stumbled into the trailer after a night of drinking to find that he couldn't remember
how he got in there. He sat on his couch just looking at the
dark television, and suddenly he wondered where the groceries had gone. That was
when he remembered that he'd been carrying groceries. He'd been coming back from the
Forest Hill grocer, bags bulging in his hands, and he had come around
the corner Mathis and curve. Then he didn't know. Something had made him
squint and he thought, shit, there goes my milk, and then he'd
been walking back into his trailer. As he walked into town. Now he
saw more missing posters and it started to give him the creeps. Watching his
own faces, his false face looking back at him was eerie and he wanted
to rip them down. He was here, he was alive. Why were
they looking for him? He wasn't missing. He was walking up the road.
He passed people, sighed, eyeing them as if expecting to be recognized,
but they just walked right past him without a look back. That was
weird. Ralph thought, Yeah, he'd been gone for a week, but
people surely hadn't forgotten him that quickly. He'd been sitting in his trailer for
a week before he thought that a walk had seemed like a good idea.
It was weird. The food should have run out by now, but Ralph
really hadn't been hungry. He'd moved between the living room and bedroom like a
sleep walker, sleeping like he hadn't done since he was three hundred pounds of
lazy couch potato. He hadn't felt like he needed to eat anything either,
though, and that was rare. Despite his weight loss, he still had
to manage his prodigious appetite. He couldn't even remember drinking water that whole week,
and until he'd gotten up to walk, you'd worry that he was catching
the flu. He had wandered around in a daze, just kind of existing,
and it made him feel good when the afternoon had finally called to him.
As he walked towards the supermarket, however, he suddenly wished he had
stayed at home. Sitting in the parking lot of forest Till Grocer was a
green Ford focus. It became the focus of his terror. Shouldn't have been
that way. It was just a car, but there was something about it
that made him stop and stare. His legs felt made of lead, and
his bowels would have turned to water, except he remembered that he hadn't done
that all week either. If that made sense, he supposed nothing going in
meant nothing coming out right. It didn't matter. After a week of no
food or water, Ralph should be dead, and that thought seemed to move
him. At long last. He was suddenly walking towards the car, his
eyes falling on a dent in the front bumper that was a fresh stent.
Though Ralph didn't know how, he knew that the door of the car was
open, and Ralph climbed into the back seat like a sleepwalker. He sat
there, waiting for something to happen. Feeling kind of silly. This was
stupid. The owner of the Focus would come back and ask him what the
hell he thought he was doing. He'd call the cops, Ralph would go
to jail, and then he'd be in big trouble. Well, Ralph thought,
at least then they would know where he was. Ralph supposed they could
take the signs down if he was sitting in jail. Finally, after an
indeterminate amount of time, the owner came up with groceries and brown paper bags.
He was a young kid, maybe twenty twenty two, and when he
opened the back door he set them inside without comment. Ralph watched him move
around in the front seat and climb in, cranking the car and driving off.
The further they went, the more sure Ralph was that the kid would
see him. The kid would look in the rear view mirror, see Ralph
sitting there and freak out. He might have a wreck and Ralph Ralph would
feel terrible about that. The longer they rowed without the kid commenting on his
presence, the stranger had all felt. Ralph leaned towards the kid a little,
meaning to tap him, but as he did, he caught a look
at the rear view mirror and stopped. The back seat in the mirror was
empty, except except for the groceries. That's when he remembered, and suddenly
Ralph wasn't in the kid's focus anymore. Suddenly he was back on the side
of the road, near the guardrail of Maths and Curve, and he could
see the headlights in his eyes again. The kid had been going too fast,
hot rotting around, and his tires had screeched as he hit Ralph.
Ralph's groceries had gone everywhere, his milks squishing under the tire as his lettuce
rolled under the guard rail. The kid had come out to find Alf lying
across the guardrail, moaning and groaning as he lay dying, The head had
thrown him back, bringing him to rest against the metal rail that had broken
his back. He looked the kid, begging him to help him. In
his panic, the kid had done the only thing he could think to do.
He pushed Ralph over the side of the rail and into the drop below.
It was night now and Ralph was looking over that rail again. He
couldn't see his body down below. He'd fallen into the bottom and likely been
picked clean by scavengers, but he knew it was down there. Ralph would
likely go on to be a town legend, someone who had just disappeared one
day after making a slight splash and filibuster. But for now all he could
do is look down into the ravine and wonder what to do next. He
had read some ghost stories when he was younger, wrote a for you when
he got older, but it wasn't every day that you belcome one. Something
wafted past him on a straight wind that when Ralph caught it, he realized
it was one of the missing posters. An idea occurred to him, and
he thought, maybe maybe he wouldn't have to stay a mystery. Officer Vermas
stood by the guardrail, ready to catch the kid if he decided to take
a nose dive. It was pretty high he might opt for a short flight
over a lengthy prison sentence, but Vermas doubted it. The wind pitched his
hair just as it did the officer's jacket, and he pointed down, almost
accusingly as he turned to the kid. And that's where you pushed the body
over, Vermos asked. The kid. Tiler Mischion nodded before being taken back
to the station in the back of a different squad car. Vermis sighed that
was going to be some hard canvassing, but they'd find Ralph Gilbert when they
had gone to the kid's house. He had as good as confessed on the
spot, and that had made it all very easy. He was repentant,
very sorry, and very young, and some soft hearted judge who'd probably not
insist on the death penalty for him. He was unlikely he would never operate
a motor vehicle again, not unless the state prison let him run a tractor
or something. He supposed it would have to be good enough. It was
weird, though the police would have probably never known about the accident if it
hadn't been for the tip they'd gotten. Looking at Ralph's picture on the front
of the poster, Vermus remembered the night they'd taken his license. He'd been
a bad drunk, but he'd turned it around, and Vermis hated that he
had to end up like this. It was a bigger shame that the kid
had to ruin his life by a moment if he had attention, and those
were the brain He flipped it over, looking at the odd writing on the
back looked like he had been done with mucus, except it was a fluorescent
green and the slime they used to dump on the kids and the show his
boy had watched when they were younger. He didn't know what it written it
and he didn't care. They could take Ralph Gilbert out of the unsolved case
file put him in the closed case pile. That was good enough for him.
The message read green Ford focus dent in the front bumper. Kid hit
Ralph Gilbert about a week ago on Matheson Curve, body in the ravine.
Don't let him rot down there hither. Kids. It's me mister Kippasta,
and I just wanted to tell you thank you so much for watching tonight's video
or by listening to tonight's episode of the podcast. I know I haven't had
as many updates as I would like to have on the channel lately. Uh,
and things just kind of get really hard with shit that's happening in my
family, but hey, I wanted to say thank you so much for being
around, thank you so much for still supporting me, and for coming back
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