It's almost that time of year again, so come on down to Men's Scare
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seeing it's ninety percent off. Discontinued items like the full babble dress uniform of
will help Kaiser surpriser with Kaiser. So come down to Men's Scare House this
weekend. We'll have games for all the unbaptized kids all at men's scare houses
annual back to Goole sale. You gotta like the way you spoke. I
can't die it. What makes you finish everything? He says with the sound
good. He's dead. Those free cockroaches in the bowl they have. I
have no reason to think this, but for some reason I imagine that he's
just an upper torso sat in a chair. It's still fat. Yeah.
Oh, hello everyone here, everybody. My name is David Flora, and
I'm David Stecco, and I'm baptized child in the afternoon, and welcome to
blurry photos. That's right, oh man. Gather around, y'all. Stick
some sticks, some marshmallows on some sticks and stick them. Stick them on
them sticks, stick them sticks, sharpen them first. Put the marshmallow on
there, and can pile around the campfire because it's time for camp fire ghost
stories, camp fire cost stories. Bum one o'clock. Yeah, you know.
Uh. In Colorado Springs there's this thing halfway upshy Mountain called the will
Rogers Shrine, and it's huge. It's like a spire. I mean,
it's just like a it's like or think it's just a big tower sitting on
the side of the mountain, and it has I I gotta say, though
it's been a long time since I've heard it. They it may not make
the sounds anymore, but all growing up, it would do that every hour
on the hour, ding ding ding ding bong bong, and you could hear
it over the whole city. Wow, that's creepy. Yeah, that's pretty
creepy. Yeah, that was a I can't believe I said, or thank
I do, or thank you, I'm welcome. I don't understand why they
make that sound into doorbells. Right, it's too long. It's too long.
Even bing bong can be cut in half. Bang. Yeah, oh
gosh, it's annoying, but at least it wasn't longer, right, dang
dong? Oh, I better get the door long. I'm still gonna get
the dong dong. Who is a dang? No, you're already in.
We've had dinner. We've already had dinner. You've been in, We visited
for a while, we even fired up Mario, the original Mario and played
it. And now you've left. Jesus Christ. Now the doorbells ending this
week on Blurry Photos. Two guys aren't old enough to be this cranky talk
about how much doorbells make them angry? What have we? Yeah? Exactly,
oh man, Well as promised, I hope, I hope you guys
are okay that this this episode is not exactly a fresh show to the oven.
Even as you're hearing this, I am petting, peddling my sweaty,
sweaty body across the fine state of Iowa in search of I don't know,
it's a spirit quest. Maybe I'll bring some payote with me. Oh nice,
nice, I gotta find some payote. That's a that's a field trip.
We could take American Southwest man Pyoti, and then on down to Iowaska
town. Not you or not me, neither of us needs or will benefit
from hallucinogens that would break us. I don't know how. Don't you think
you think it would break I thought it was would was supposed to open your
mind to how one you are with the universe, you know, like,
um, that's just your No. I was just crafting a metaphor in my
head about um, fire hydrants and how maybe you shouldn't open those up all
the way. Oh well, yeah, yeah, my mind's like a fire
hydrant. Eventually a fire will breakout and someone will carefully, in a controlled
manner, increase my perspective just enough to dounce the terror flames and then use
the wrench to shut it back down again. I have this weird sense of
um drug hierarchy. Maybe like I would. I would be totally opposed to
doing heroin, let's say, but I would sort of be like, you
know what, payote, Sure, I might try that at some point.
I don't know where that comes from, though, you know what I mean,
It's like crack Noah, I don't think that'd be for me. Ayahuasca,
however, well, I think part of it is like you don't know,
I've never heard of an ayahuasca addict. No, no one's hooked on
acid, you know, no one's try ask do you know an k Ultra
episode? True? No, I'll tell you what. I tried weed pass
it just it did not. None of the effects were what I consider to
be personally pleasant. And all apologies to the YouTube commenter who thinks we just
sit around smoking weed weed and giggling. Right, No, I'm afraid we're
high on our own supply. Bros of you. Yeah, it's a whammy
to you. Yeah, I'm sorry that we sound high, because this is
literally the best we can do. This is us tap dancing on a griddle.
Lucy and doo oh man, that was some fun alright discussion, Um
ready to We'll save it. We'll save it for a different episode, an
episode of a different ilk that that that's cooking up, cooking it hard now,
but like like a meth lab to the subject at hand. Yes,
since it's the middle of the summer, I'm listening. You're getting out there,
You're you're you're transporting your sweaty body across Iowa. I'm biking every day.
This is camping every night. So I mean, I'm I'm gonna use
some of what we learned tonight. I'm gonna be sitting around campfires with strangers.
Yeah, I'm gonna scare the shit out of them, that's right.
And I'm gonna be sitting at home with my sweaty body and not editing because
because this will be editing taken care of. Yeah, I'll probably be playing
Mountain Blade band or something. It'll be pre edited or will be or preda
wait, wait, wait, I've got a really good predator sign. You're
ready for it? Okay, Oh, that's so much better than mine.
What are these three red dots doing on my chest? Oh my god.
Yeah. It's weird though that I can't just go straight to like the really
good clicking sound. I have to like ease into it. Nope, not
time, It didn't even make it there. Whatever. That's why being a
predator so hard. If it was easy, everyone would be in the trees
and invisible. Wait, turn it into invision. Oh yeah, yeah.
Infrovision also has some problems with a sound filter. Tonight, we're gonna tell
you can't fire ghost stories. Just keep rambling about bullshit. No second annual
campfire ghost stories. Yep, yep, impress and scare your friends. We
like telling ghost stories, um at least twice a year. At least.
Sometimes you get a bonus in there at some point. But sometimes we throw
a little yule log on that fire. Halloween, no brainer today, But
camping when else? I mean, come on, you sit around and you
you you put hot dogs and marshmallows on that fire, and then you scare
the pants off each other. M and then you get into tense. No,
you don't you know what I like? Uh? You know, my
my my favorite uh thing is you know what I like about camping, What
it's intense. See it's a pun because it's like intense, sounds like in
like, how do you what? Is it a joke? Well, I'll
walk you through this, Okay, it's like being you're in a tent.
So we've got a few, uh, few scary stories. Oh so for
you to tell him the dark? Yeah, Dave, you've got a couple.
Oh yeah, I've got a couple. Each of them is an acoustic
lobotomy. Yeah. And this year, this campfire story, I've got an
original O Lord Lord and now I I tried that once, didn't like how
it turned out. It was for our very first Halloween episode. It's it's
in the archives. It's in the secret. Yeah, not the archives that
you can access, but yeah, no, it's it's it's it's in the
U. Whenever Dave Flora needs leverage archive, man, I often go to
that archive and jump in it and swim around Scrooge mcducksky. Weird, you
go swimming in my shame. It's just so big, there's so much in
there, Like that's the iron I say, I have no shame and yet
you get to swit in it. Yeah. Well, so so you didn't
you didn't do it this time, But I took a swing at it because
mostly because I couldn't find many many good ones. I don't I love that.
See that's the roll up your sleeves. None of these you're pleasing.
I'm gonna make my own flannel shirt. I don't know why I would think
mine would be any better than than any of the ones I'm reading, because
getting good at what you do, Flora right right. I never say that
what I did was right. Scary stories though, Um so I've got one
of my own, got a poem for you, keeping that tradition alive.
And uh, and I've got a no look, I've got a no look
story. That's what I bring. A look story, no look story.
Uh, got got a bad one, got a you know, a decent
one. Hopefully we've accessed from our usual sources. And I've even added this
year creepy pasta. Oh yeah, to pull from You learned that from the
Enderman? Yeah, yeah, Slenderman whatever thing, don't forget. Don't forget
if you ever want to ride a pun in it is a deep water like
Slenderman town. I'm just just it's like a stock pond. You will not
go wrong. Um So my question to you, yeah, is who begins
this cavalcade of creepy campfires cacophony. I think I'm gonna start it off.
Well, if you don't want to, then I think I will. Um,
let's start with Okay, let's start with a creepy pasta story then that
I found called the serene psychistthing with me. No, this is gonna be
for you to use on your fun little ride across Iowa, as the Algonquin
called it whenever they got lost heading back home from Chicago. Are you ready?
Yeah? Well, I mean I hope so should be all right you,
Butterby. I used to live in Cambridge a while back, which is
a small city smack in the middle of England, best known for the university
that is as large as the city itself. Okay, quit bragging, but
I was there for work. Wait a minute, Florid, I don't before
we get to this stuff. I'm sorry, I gotta ask you this.
If the person's from Cambridge, which is in England, all right, okay,
DOOKI and honestly, well, firth Vandyke scale, Let's firth this one
my scale, my rules all right, Firth it That's what I was just
gonna ask. Yeah, full firth my scale so so towards that end.
Not full firth. I mean, I don't Yeah, I guess from Cambridge,
so i'd say, I'd say, like, keep it hard in the
Firth area, all right. I had a few friends around the city,
in Cambridge being a very green city, it is the Cambridge Way to cycle
round to most places. I would mostly visit my friends in the evenings and
we would all stay up till late, not socializing or drinking, but playing
games, musing philosophically, and finding other means of continuing our existence. On
the nights this continued for particularly long. I would have to cycle back halfway
across the city, often in cold. This was usually quite pleasant. Cambridge
is quite a safe city and I generally enjoy being out in the dark alone
under the yellow of the night lights. It was one of those nights,
though, that I met with what felt to me like the devil himself.
It was what I had just had this image of, like this proper English
chap back, very straight, riding his bicycle, and then John Love,
it's in a double costume. Hello, Hello, it's me John Love.
It. It was on another one of those long, quiet, lamp lit
roads on a particularly chilly February evening. I was halfway home and slightly wary
of it. Being three am, this was late even by my standards,
and this put me somewhat on edge. My senses seem to be more alert
than usual, and I was unconsciously keeping an eye on every single shadow on
the street, trying to avoid as many alcohol fueled incidents as I could fashion
jankavnor, oh, no, thank you? You would no, no,
sir, no find a bed? Please? Would you be a cup?
By chance? You're not English? Did I? Boy? Boy? As
I turned into a street that told me I was not very far from where
my apartment was located, I started to feel much more peaceful. It was
halfway across the street, biking at my leisure that I noticed a man in
a dark jacket cycling around twenty feet in front of me. My senses suddenly
sharpened again due to the simple fact of him seeming to appear out of nowhere.
Perhaps I had not been paying as much attention as I thought I was.
The man was cycling quite slowly, and even while barely peddling, I
slowly started to draw near him. It also started to get quieter on the
street. Took me a few moments to realize that I could not hear the
man's bike or the mini mechanical clicking sounds my bike often made. The quiet
was eerie. That should have warned me. But not heeding what now seems
like a very obvious warning, I kept cycling closer to the man. I
found his speed quite peculiar, even more so his dark attire, and so
as I drew nearly level, I glanced at his body. I say his
body, because his face was not very human. It was made of what
can only be described as a shadow, and with eyes that seemed like the
very depths of hell itself. One look left me lifeless, motionless, speechless,
riding down the slope right next to him, too scared to move,
too scared, not entirely motionless, then in motion, motionless, and worst
of all, I was unable to take my eyes off his This wise closed,
he said, in a growling voice that made my hair stand on end.
This wise clothed, go back, That was all he said. With
those words. The hold that his eyes had over me was broken. I
managed to find some life in my hands, and I breaked as hot as
I could, letting him go ahead of me. He continued to cycle ahead
at his eagerly slow pace, and then as mysteriously as he appeared, he
was gone. He simply disappeared, unhurriedly into the shadows at the end of
the street. The rest of the way back home for me was a fight
against my own body. My mind would not stop reeling from the horror it
had just experienced. In my heart, but in my throat, unwilling to
go down, I could not think, I could not rationalize. I had
no refuge. I could hear her again. I could hear the wind in
my ears, the clunking of my petal as I cycled as fast as I
could, and unfortunately for me, I could hear someone riding a bike a
little behind me. When I finally got home, I threw my bike and
rushed into my first for lot, refusing to look at what was surely there.
I could still hear footsteps following me up the stairs, but I refused
to acknowledge them. As I rushed into my room as fast as I could
and into the refuge of my bed, I could still see the shadows under
my front door. As I finally decided to go to bed, they refused
to go away. Uh here's a tip for your life. Sometimes you don't
get to go to bed, and when there's when there's ethereal shadows gathered around
your door, that's one of those times. That's one of the times that
you were like, well, this is happening, it's time to stay up
and freak out all night. I refused to take responsibility for a freak out
for his own. That's the most dangerous. This was um on Creepy Pasta
by Salmon Shahid Khan. I feel like I should say that, so I'm
not like ripping somebody off, so right. So wow, So the spectral
bike ride, that's it up serene cyclists. Also lots of humble brags on
the front end of that story. You know you gotta get You could have
just picked it up. I was riding home one night. That was a
good one though. That was a that's that's a tale of cyclists. Hell
yeah, so uh. One thing I was wondering during that story though,
when he said this way is closed. Do you think the guy like just
disappeared as and he was never there or do you think he liked Platform nine
in three quarters. Like if the guy had kept riding with him, they
both would have gone somewhere. Yeah, they would have ended up in like
Sandworld with the beetlejuice and the sandworms and they got the guy would have just
turned and said, oh yo, ass is mine now. Yeah. It's
what's weird about that is that there's no well we don't know the consequence,
no for for going because he did stop and I guess go the other way.
But then it followed him. Yeah, like yeah, it tried to
warn him off. Then it's like, don't go this way, I'm gonna
follow you. And maybe he would have gone to Cambridge Hell, which is
just like Cambridge but all the tea is cold. No, I don't know.
Wow, all right, I'm ready. I'm ready to throw down though.
All right, all right, it's your turn. Good because I'm about
to scare it up. I'm about to scare the man. I love that
video. That is one of the best videos ever in the history of music
videos. The part where a woman shotgun cocks her hips and then crotch drops
that guy through a floor. Oh man, it's just great. Tartu.
Wow, I didn't think that little John could get me back on board,
But he did it. Did any of you think that? Did you think
you were gonna hear a little John when you turn this podcast on? Study
questions for interested listeners? Did you think little John was gonna come up?
All? Right? This one's called white eyes? Wait wide or white white?
Oh? White eyes? Quite? White eyes? White? Right?
All right? You ready for this? Oh? I can't be now I'm
reading this. Oh really, I wasn't that last one? So memory?
Dude, you see ma'am alrie, have you heard the story of the white
Eyes. No, it's a tale that some say is too terrible to tell.
Don't tell it. Sorry, no, no, no, it's my
job. Dude. You're right, But pull your seat closer to the campfire
and I will reveal the terror fining legend. There's some license where there's an
assumption of a campfire. There's a seat and a seat, yeah, the
one that could be pulled. I don't know. Maybe you're camping with Chuck
Norris. He could pull up a seat if it was still, if it
was a tree stump. Yeah yeah. Oh, and this this story is
from where all terror lives. The San Bernardino Mountains contain a lot of wilderness
regions which saw substantial activity about a hundred years ago. Here miners and laggers,
and by here I mean they're miners and laggers work to bring materials down
to the Los Angeles basin. But like most industries of that time, there
was a high profit motive in workers lives were not as important as they are
now. Just ask the Qatari that are making the soccer stadiums. One day,
a mine tunnel collapsed, trapping a number of men within. But they
were able to survive after a fashion by drinking water which seeped into the tunnels
and eating rap mushrooms. And they're dead coworkers. They worked from within to
dig themselves out, confident that on the other side others were digging from the
outside in. But the mining company was not known for remembering missing miners,
just hiring miners as miners. They were under age, and they had to
work in tunnelsphontes. Well, it took them a while, but they finally
managed to dig themselves out. Then the formerly trapped miners found two surprises.
First, they had lived in darkness for a long period of time and they
could no longer stand the sunlight, and their eyes were pure white, no
color except for their pupils, which were dilated. Second, the mining company
had not bothered to even try and dig them out. It was then they
made a pact these men to take revenge on those who had abandoned them.
Police called to the mind found the owner and all the managers of the mining
company dead. Soon after, the mining company went out of business. No
one was willing to work in those mountains, and even groups of men at
night were at risk. The rumor had it that the white eyes were out
for blood. Mysterious instances of men being killed in the mountains occurred. These
men were usually found mauld bloody and torn. Close examination showed teeth marks all
over their bodies. One man was even beaten by his arm, which had
been torn off at the shoulder. Insult to injury. Yeah, when when
just removing the arm is not enough. Stopped hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself.
This isn't funny. And then as he bled out, they pinned him
to the ground and went and just kept dripping a lugie over his face.
Now, since this happened about a hundred years ago, and since only men
were working in the mines, there should be no more white eyes around.
So we're safe, aren't we. No, we're not. For you see,
several years ago, a hiker was found mulled to death on the trail,
and the corner said the teeth marks he found on the body looked curiously
human. Yeah, time to change those pants, motherfucker. Yea be yea
bet Oh he got you got you, you got got, You've done got
Oh man got in him? Oh you got there you go. That's the
white eyes, white eyes, Lazier blanc. That's that's pretty cool. The
for eyes as laser. Yeah, well lazier, well, lazier. The
French prize is laser. Okay, So how about I do the old original?
Oh, bring it back home, bring the pride home. We'll see
see if you can be proud of it? I go indeed? Um,
all right, you're ready for this? I it's only a fool would say
yes, But I'm as prepared as I can be. My story, which
I have pinned with my own fingers, it's called gros well wait wait,
wait, you know it's gonna be great. My knowledge that this is your
story, me dumping on it, just like we do all the other stories.
No, you're gonna get way more respect than we give to anyone else.
Oh maybe all right. James lived in a modest studio not far from
downtown Chicago. He made a decent living as a data entry clerk. Not
his ideal job, but it put food on the table and allowed him to
save a little extra from time to time. He'd worked hard for four solid
years, never taking what would be considered a real vacation. In fact,
he would only take time off because his place of work made him due to
policy. Even then, he would sit at home and check in remotely from
time to time. One of his co workers finally told him, James,
you work so much, you got to take some time off. Why don't
you get out of the city for a bit. It can really reinvigorate a
person. As James thought about it, he realized he was feeling a run
down, and just the day before he had snapped at a particularly rude bus
driver whoa yeah, cta bro. Perhaps getting away for a bit was a
smart idea, he thought. So he planned a camping trip and budgeted some
money from savings for the gear and such that he would need. He decided
to head up to Wisconsin during the next week to enjoy some of the beautiful
forests the southern part of the state had to offer. It is beautiful in
Wisconsin. Next week came and James had all of his gear packed into a
rental suv and he headed out of the city towards Wisconsin and an area great
for camping, which a co worker had suggested to him. It felt good
to have the windows down and feel the wind and sun. As he drove
up the interstate. He could almost feel himself getting happier with each mile he
drove. He stopped at the famous Cheese Castle on the border of Wisconsin and
Illinois and looked at the selection of cheese cards for a snack. As he
picked up a package of regular cheddar cards, his eyes fell on the halopeno
Kurds not too far away. Oh No. Normally, not very adventurous,
James would have been on his way, but this time he thought to himself,
why not, I'm on vacation, and he switched the packages and bought
the halapeno Kurds, feeling very pleased with himself. While it may have seemed
like a silly thing, it was a big deal for James, who was
starting to come out of his shell a bit As he drove on into the
state, he found the highway his friends suggested, and drove a good piece
down it as the signs of civilization gradually diminished around him. After a while,
he saw something ahead, just off the side of the road, covered
by overgrown trees, but still visible if you were paying attention. It was
a sign. He slowed a little and as he passed he barely made out
the words Brock Camp. James slowed to a stop, put the suv in
reverse, and back up to the sign. Through the tree limbs, he
made out Brock Lake camping in wildlife area. Then he noticed a dirt road
that he hadn't seen as he passed, leading off by the sign. This
wasn't the site his friend had suggested. In fact, that site was almost
ten miles on up the road, and by all accounts, it was a
pretty low maintenance campsite. Some plots were even outfitted with electrical outlets, he
was told. As he stared at the sign, a feeling of adventure came
over him, and he threw the suv into drive and pulled onto the old
dirt road, thinking to himself, I'm on vacation. I'd like that,
he said, it like a crabby old man. I'm on vacation. There's
what I'm doing. One are these pokemon? After driving the bad but navigable
road, he came across a sparse little clearing ringed by huge trees and sitting
off the road a short distance. Perfect, he thought, and he pulled
the suv over, parked and proceeded to unload. He spent the next couple
hours setting up a great little camp site, having watched many you tube videos
the day before on how to do so. By the time he was done,
it was dusk and he felt accomplished and relaxed. Watching the fire he
had made, dance and licked the air. The summer night was full of
sounds and warm, and the night slowly filled the forest. Sitting with a
book by the fire, James felt content, but oddly chilly. He stood
and moved a bit closer to the fire, but he felt goose bumps and
even shivered. Odd, he thought, and he got a rain jacket from
his bag to put on. Feeling better, he resumed reading, but stopped
mid sentence when he realized he couldn't hear anything but the sound of the fire
next to him. No crickets, chirped, no owls hooted. It was
as if the forest had frozen. James looked around the site where the firelight
reached the edge of the woods. He saw nothing but the flicker of light
reflected off the trees and shadows dance here and there. As he turned his
attention back to his book, the thought popped into his mind that there were
two tiny yellow spots by a tree he had just been looking at. So
he looked up once more to see nothing but shadows playing across tree trunks,
diving and ducking. The shadows were weirdly comforting to watch as they moved effortlessly
from tree to tree, almost as if they were working in concert to liquidly
slip behind each tree just at the edge of the fire's light. Frowning,
James could swear he followed a shadow melt like this from where he thought he
saw the yellow spots, almost a complete one hundred and eighty degrees around the
campsite. Feeling uncomfortable, he reached for some small logs and tossed them on
the fire in the hopes the light would grow his little campfire bubble. He
watched the same spot for minutes, then started feeling silly. I've never been
camping. My mind is playing tricks, he thought, But still no sound
around him save the crackle of the fire. He tried reading but couldn't focus.
He scratched an itch on his shoulder and stared at his book, then
an itch on his other shoulder, then an itch on his upper arm,
and an itch by his collar bones. Alarmed, he unzipped his jacket and
lifted his shirt at the place of the irritation to see nothing. His skin
had felt like something was irritating it, not a biting or pricking, or
like a crawling sensation, but there was nothing there, and the itching had
stopped. James got up, grabbed his bag and pulled out a small knife
for comfort's sake, and climbed into his tent, closing it behind him.
He sat for a long time, not thinking, just listening and trying to
figure things out. He awoke to birds chirping and sounds of the forest the
next day. I must have passed out, he thought, hun zipping the
tent. M site was just as he left it, except for the remains
of the fire. He chuckled softly, remembering how startled he had been the
night before. And how it was obviously a tired mind in an unknown environment.
He spent the day hiking and enjoying being outside on a warm, sunny
summer day. As the sun was going down, he was headed back to
camp and he started feeling a chill. Must be a cold wind blowing through,
he thought, and continued on, thinking of a nice fire he would
get started back at camp. As he stepped on a twig, the sound
echoed through the woods, and once again he realized there was no other sounds.
Standing still, he started feeling uneasy, the thoughts of the previous night
rushing back to him. This time there was no fire to cast shadows,
but the waning light of day gave form to some anyway. He scanned the
trees around him, seeing no movement or anything odd. He decided to keep
walking as he was only fifty yards or so from camp, Wincing at every
twig snapped and every crunch underfoot. He wished he could just float along and
become small to not draw attention, but attention from what passing a heavy bit
of underbrush. He stopped again, knowing he had seen something in there,
two small yellow points orbs eyes. He looked at the brush, scanning all
around it, but seeing nothing. Thoroughly troubled, he tried to rationalize what
he knew. He had just seen an animal looking at him, maybe a
badger. He was Wisconsin, after all, but somehow that didn't seem right.
I could think it was Wisconsin. He started walking again, faster and
faster, and then felt a crawling sensation on his shoulders. He brushed his
shoulders, but still felt it on his arm. He thought maybe he had
hit a bees' nest as he started running through the darkening woods, but he
saw nothing on his arms as they itched and crawled like many small feet,
making their way down to his wrists, down his chest. He burst through
to his campsite and tripped over his backpack, falling painfully beside the fire pit
he'd made. Scrambling around to his bag, he fished out his flashlight,
dropping it as he fumbled to turn it on. He picked it up and
switched it on, aiming it at the trees where he had just emerged.
The small spotlight showed nothing but dark woods as he slowly began to regain his
composure, Then he noticed his body didn't feel irritated anymore, no feeling of
insect legs or itching. He sat for a minute, catching his breath,
staring at the trees. Then a quick, almost imperceptible flash came from just
beside the spotlight, A reflective flash, A flash, he realized as he
moved his light over that came from two yellow, deadened eyes in the darkness,
and then they blinked. James shot up, dropping the light and grabbing
his bag and running straight to the suv. Fumbling his keys, he jumped
in, got the key in the ignition, and started the engine. Then
the itching began again, crawling across his shoulders, quickly down his arms and
chest. He put the suv in, reversed and looked in the rear view
mirror, only to see two yellow, deadened eyes staring from the backseat as
his body itched and crawled with what felt like a thousand flies. Buzz buzz.
Oh. I like that. That guy was not a competent camper.
I think he did all the camping right, He just had a bad He
picked the wrong thought. Yeah, that's that picked him, Poor James.
Sorry, Jade, that sucks. It's like it's like Atlantis Morrisett. You
know, he waited his whole damn life to take a vacation and then he
got spectrally murdered. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think rack rack boom?
Well done? That's well done, sir, that's that one. I applaud
your literary talent. What do you could have used? More? Snarling badger
sounds? All? Right, here we go, here's my no luck.
Are you ready for this? I don't know if I gave me mean neither.
Anyone who says they are as a liar a liar remember to start it
out like a porno. Oh yeah, that's right. If I got the
porno rule, this works out great. There was an old farmer in Arizona
who owned the best farm in the area. Everybody says his crops were the
best. People came from all over to buy their goods from. They came
from all around. Whenever people asked him how he was able to grow such
good quality crops, the old farmer would say, twist ending, terrifying story.
Good night, the whole story. Jeez, Honestly, jess could be
the end of a lot of terrifying stories. The old farmer would say it
was all down to his scarecrow. That old scarecrow is the one I have
to thank said the farmer. He makes sure no crows or critters or pests
come near my crops. The old farmer had built the scarecrow himself, and
it was a fearsome sight. He spent months working on it to make it
as scary as possible. He knew how important it was to keep pests away
from his crop, so he gave an enormous straw arms that stretched about six
feet, and big long legs that made it as tall as a tree.
But the scariest thing about his scarecrow was its head. The farmer carved it
himself out of a huge pumpkin. He spent countless days and nights perfecting his
design until it was perfect Redundantly, the scarecrow's face and head was so grotesque
and ugly that even he was sometimes scared to look at it, but it
was very effective, scaring away every rodent and bird that ventured near. If
it was so scary, Like as he's carving it, he's like, no,
no, I can't believe I'm doing this. I shouldn't finish. The
neighboring farm was owned by two young men who were brothers named Josh and Harold.
They were lazy and never did much work around the farm, which resulted
in their crops being bad. They were jealous of the old farmer's success and
were plotting against him. If they could drive him out of business, they
could take over his farm and make more money. You dumb, few stupid
bastards. So one night the brothers decided to sneak under the old farmer's land.
They stole his prize scarecrow and brought it back to their own house,
where they stuffed it into an old closet so no one would ever find it.
The next day, the farmer woke up to find his hideous scarecrow missing
and all of his crops being eaten by rats and crows. Now I'm we're
so unafraid. Yeah, it's on. It's on, guys, Scarecrow's going
come out. He fell to his knees and cried, knowing that his farm
would soon be out of business. Meanwhile, the brothers, Josh and Harold
were watching from their own property and couldn't help laughing out loud when they saw
the old man's tears of grief. Hearing the laughter, the old farmer came
over and asked them if they knew what happened to his scarecrow. The brothers
looked him right in the eye and said they had no idea where his precious
scarecrow might be. Of bitches, right, damn, I but you know
I'll go out of business and have to sell my farm if I can't find
my scarecrow, said the farmer. Josh just laughed in his face, saying,
that's just your tough luck, Isn't it sucks to be you? Giggled
Harold. The old farmer walked away slowly back to his house, his head
hanging down in defeat and depression. That night, Josh and Harold had trouble
sleeping, not because they felt any remorse, but because they couldn't get the
image of the scarecrow's horrible, twisted face out of their minds. They decided
they would never be able to sleep as long as that ugly pumpkinhead was in
their house, so they got up and dragged the scarecrow out of the closet.
Harold took a baseball bat and smashed the scarecrow's head to pieces until all
that was left was little bits of pumpkins strewn around the floor. Delicious the
brothers swept up the pumpkinheadpieces and threw them in the trash. Then they went
back to bed and were soon fast asleep, having put all thoughts of the
disgusting scarecrow face out of their heads. Sometime after midnight, Josh and Harold
were awoken by the sounds of scratching and clung at their bedroom door. One
of the dim was countin magers Ah, did you forget to put the dog
out, asked Harold sleepily. Woo woo woo. We don't have a dog,
stammered Josh from the same bed they were both sleeping. I think their
last name was mcpoile. Suddenly the bedroom door burst open. An old,
solitary, long straw arms snaked in through the opening. Then a second arm
thrashed around, followed by two long stick legs. The two brothers were frozen
in fear and could only look with horror as the headless scarecrow's body rose up
on its long stick legs and its long arms reached out for them from the
dark. Harold felt a cold, sinewy straw clothes around his ankle and screamed
as loud as he could. He begged his brother Josh to help him,
but Josh was already running out of the bedroom. Fleeing in terror. He
ran down the hallway, crashed to the front door, and out into the
moonlit road. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, puffing
and panting and screaming at the top of his voice. As he passed his
neighbor's house, he saw the old farmer standing at his gate. In the
moonlight, he could see the farmer just staring at him, with a strange
smile on his face. Josh kept running, his bare feet slapping against the
rough gravel road. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw something that scared
him to his very soul. He saw the scarecrow running along the road close
behind him. It was gaining on him, coming closer and closer. And
that wasn't all he saw. He noticed that the scarecrow had a brand new
head, and it looked a lot like Harold. Was it Harold? Thankfully?
No, the scarecrow had been very busy until midnight making a hair,
a fake head out of macromay and plaster Paris Harold the scarecrow. Yeah,
so that's the that's why, that's why you don't with American farmers. Yep,
you hear that, mon Santo. You and your brother Jeff is Jeff
and Harold mon Santo. Oh goodness, that's pretty good for no. Look
though, I mean like the image of like running and then you just see
this thing loping up behind you with his brother's head on there. I don't
want to do it. No, you know what the worst part of that's
the whole story is Glorie photos now with more unwanted snarling yep, shock value
episode. All right, I am going to round us out here, oh,
round us with a poem. Sometimes I do it. I'm run out
of breath. I know, I completely run out because you need a lot
of breath for that. Yeah, you do for you all you guys practicing
at home, get your breath ready. This this pame is called the Scary
Man. Oh yeah, the scary Man. Hell call me scary. In
the desolate depth of a perilous place, the scary Man lurks with a snarl
on his face. Never dare, never dare to approach his dark lair,
for he's waiting, just waiting to get you. He skulks in the shadows,
relentless and wild in his search for a tinder and edible child with his
razor sharp claws and his slavering jaws, and he's waiting, just waiting to
get you. Many have entered his dreary domain, but not even one has
been heard from a game. They made a fine feast for this butchering beast,
and he's waiting, just waiting to get you. In that sulfurous,
sunless and sinister place, he'll crumple your bones in his scary embrace. Never
never go near. If you hold your life dear, now you know what
he'll do when he gets you. Ha ha, I like that. That's
a poem for you and another thing for We're just good. We're big old
dicks this episode. Yeah yeah, yeah, okay, very scary. I
like that. So uh so take those take them out into the great outdoors
memories and by heart, and then um regale your friends from wide Eyes to
a thousand flies, from Scary Man Harold Scare Scarecrows to scarem Scaremons square.
Yeah there you go. Pretty pretty good selection of double dog. Dare you
triple double dog? All six dogs. That's a lot of dogs to dare,
But one thing we do dare? What do you dare? We do?
Dare to pun. Yeah, we're about to enter the true horror.
Oh my gosh, the evening my first pun. Everyone smelled that one coming.
Not everyone, do you hear the There's a ghost story about a guy
from the Midwest, maybe maybe even Chicago, which one. His name was
John, Oh, John, And he went camping in Iowa, and um,
he thought that it wasn't abandon he thought it was far from civilization.
But it turns out he was wrong. When the first night he was there,
he would he would get these these kind of pangs, these feelings in
his gut, and then you know, he would just kind of calm down,
drink some water, and they'd go away. The next morning he went
out for a hike, and this feeling came back. And he came back
and he realized that he wasn't alone in the woods. Well, no,
because there was some kindly people from Iowa there. And when he got back
to the campsite, there was a thousand pies to eat, one thousand pies,
and then he was all eating them rudely in the manner of a Chicago
And I thought you were gonna I thought you were gonna say. Since he
was in Iowa, there was a thousand Hawkeyes. Oh maybe you don't know,
Okay, scary, this is getting scarier by the minute. Well I
heard this, U, I heard. I heard tale of a group of
miners out in California who after a hard day's work, they like to come
home and uh, and then they'd switch on the old Netflix. Who wouldn't
and they just binge on Breaking Bad nice ye, But the thing is they
stayed watching that show for so long. People people couldn't find him for a
while, oh jeu. And then they found him. They found him in
their homes and they looked at him and they realized they had Walter White eyes.
Yeah, I smelled that one. I smelled that one coming down the
pike. I think we've all been there with a breaking back at one point
or another. Did you ever hear the story um of an agricultural bend.
Okay, seems a farmer needed to make a device to keep everything, keep
the critters and crows and and everything away. And he thought, well,
the best way to keep these wild animals away is to to put something in
his in his fields, like well, something so terrifying, I mean,
like something that only an animal could could truly feel like like a beast,
maybe even the beast, which is why he um made a Scarecrowley, Well
done. Yeah care Curley, did you notice that we did those puns like
NPR style and um a farmer who was beacon to the agriculture business for the
sustain county that he was. He was working in sorghum, which is also
has a lot of applications in the plastics industry. Next week, able to
make an adhesive from there? Jesus, Oh, all right, I'll round
us out here, take us home, Flora. There was a there was
a young British gentleman who liked going out for rides late at night after he'd
been hanging out with his friends. But he was kind of a dick because
he would be he would be on his bike going going down the street and
he would make the signal that he was going to turn ride huh, and
then he would suddenly turn left and just laugh and laugh. What a horrible
person man, he was. The Serene Spike list. Oh man, Yeah,
the truth, the true terror is puns. Just sit down the campfire
and say, well, I've got a whole bunch of puns and I've got
I've got to sleep tonight man food. Okay, that was a weird noise
you mean, oh man, so as previously promised. Ye, no,
no, the mailbag shall remain shut this week. That's right. Sorry.
Yeah, we've got him, We've got him. Please don't stop writing them,
because we will get to them all because he loves them. Things to
keep in mind, we love puns, we do. We love mundane superpowers,
that's true. And then you know, we just love whatever the helse
you feel like, love you he love of it. When Flora goes to
the penalty box. Not true. But in the meantime, with us not
giving you listener mail, take time to go and rate us on iTunes the
Stars stars five of them. Go and like us on Facebook if you haven't
already. Really really, it doesn't take that long. You got a Facebook,
I can't click it. Just searching for photos podcast click click? Yeah,
click YouTube, We're on there, blurry photos podcasts as well. I'll
be getting more store stubble ponds there. Blurry underscore photos are Twitter handle.
Yeah. Let let's get to one hundred followers on that. Oh yeah,
man, We've got almost three times as many likes as followers. I mean,
it's hard to create a digital empire. You know what's silly. I
just I have friends who perform in the city that are just themselves on Twitter.
It's just like you know at John Underscore Smith and they have like nine
hundred followers. Oh I know. And then here we are, you know,
doing a service to the world. There were Morning and our road join
a spotty and we've got ninety four followers four. Well, I mean,
I'll tell you what. I there's a part of the work. There's a
part of me that gets upset by that. But then there's a part of
me that goes, oh, yeah, I don't give a about Twinter.
I don't even so I don't either. I just it's it's preposterous and weird,
and that's why I don't do much with it. It's ridiculous, and
it's after it's died. It's preposthumous. Yes, I did that Flory photos
proposthumous. All right, well shite, that's that. Yeah, we got
to donate button. We really love it when you use that, and we're
gonna use it for punching good. But with your wallet, bop it,
twist it, bop it again, now hold it, now tell it you
love it? Now never let it go. Now watch it drown bopp.
It gets real for this episode, though, of blurry photos. I have
been David Scaryman Flora and I have been David Stacko boo boom. Seriously,
Pie always always get you. Yeah that literally good one, because you you
bring the volume to it. That's that's it, that's all it is.
Sorry to your ears. A fully formed, free floating, vaporous apparition should
inspire terror on site before a single mournful moan escapes what used to be its
lips? What used to be its lips? Ye really got deep on that,
trying to trail it a little. What used to be as Jesus free
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