They say you can lead a horse to water, but you can't teach it
to murder, Or so says the hand Book. But they also say rules
are meant to be broken, bent, plunged, and then to dismember and
do stuff with them. This is a story about gas lighting, gate keeping,
and gaining your heart's desire using necromancy and the Internet. This is the
second installment of a little mini series within Our Yours Truly series. Each episode
details the correspondence between a modern seeker and a long deceased voice from the past.
In this episode, we again find ourselves a fly nestled within the decaying
flesh wall of Hell, spying on the classified archives of the entrepreneurial demonic endeavor
known as Healing Answers and Necromancy Delivered or HAND. If you're feeling clever,
so turn on your fifth gen gaming system, keep tweeting about your meme stocks,
and unfurl your most obscure cosplay costumery for the archives of HAND, or
what they like to call the Jack t Ripper Dilemma. To whom it may
concern, I am penning this letter to you the hand Agency, and I
hope my mission finds you well. As you can see, I am writing
this by hand with my quill and ink set, as my typewriter is in
the shop. Fun fact, I typically employ the Royal Quiet Deluxe, which
is the same model Ernest Hemingway use. You probably didn't know that not many
people do, but I do regardless. I was recently at a Nudgato convention
where I served as a featured panelist unpaid, Nugato being, of course,
the ancient Japanese art of nugato, which is obviously the art of creating tiny
wooden dolls and the houses they habit. And before you ask, no,
it is not like a dollhouse convention, mother, it is a Nudgatto convention,
I digress. Whilst I was in attendance, I was perusing a booth
of ony manga, which is an elite horror subgenre, and I happened upon
your card. At first I scoffed hand healing answers and necromancy delivered sounds like
something out of a bad pulp fiction. But after learning more at your site
domain, I must say my interests hands been piqued. I desperately seek of
a spoke answer. I have a problem that I cannot solve, and you
are truly my last resort. Perhaps your undead mentorship is the chalice at the
end of my quest. Allow me to present my quandary. Most men look
at me and they think I have it all. A tall stiphodora, a
stunning collection of rare pipes, and the original bat left as first u is
by Michael Dorn. However, my life is missing one thing. I lack
the ability to go after women, get close to them and obtain my heart's
desire. I have nowhere else to turn, so, per the service advertise
on your website, I would like to be masked with one of your undead
ghoule rouse, someone who can mentor me from beyond the grave. I am
looking for a man who has experienced with the fair sex, a gentleman,
a scholar, a man of influence. I am particularly interested, perhaps in
a mister Aaron Kosminsy. If you know who that is, which you probably
don't, you is Jack the Ripper. Thank you in advance, Adam Q.
Masterson PS. I have included the six hundred and sixty six dollars application
feed. You are welcome for the two dollar bills two taxi Dermi Adam seven
nine at hotmail dot com. Subject new client inquiry, Good evening, Adam
qute Masterson. Thank you for sending such a beautifully penned note. I can
tell you have very soft, delicate and congratulations your application has been approved.
Our necromancers are hard at work matching you with your ideal Google rule. This
undead soul summoned from the depths of Hell will reach out to you in three
to five business days via email communication. Once you complete the registration ritual,
signed the attached contract in blood, and fax it back to us. May
you find whatever your heart desires and the heart Lord Kyle Davis, an associate
director hand costing persis to taxidermy Adam seventy nine at hot male dot com.
Subject meet your ghoul roue. Hello, my good man, it is I
Jack T. Richardson the third, not who you expect it, I rarely
am. Perhaps you may know me by my more illustrious title, Jack the
River. I see that in your inquiry letter you requested to be matched with
a mister Aaron Kosminski. A one must assume that you did not mean the
same empty headed fop who has been erroneously a sign the macab mantle, which
should be resting upon my shoulders. My legacy has been thwarted by a gaggle
of simple minded sleuths. He is indeed not me, and I am indeed
not he. Allow me to enlighten you the real mystery of my much misidentified
identity is as such. Firstly, I am a British lord, absolute leer,
pure bred, organic, artisanal and high born ruling class, and that
means, of course I am quite in bred. To look at me,
you would never guess that my parents were closely related, save my right hand,
which is like a weird little flipper, and my jaw, which is
an absolute shovel. That is because most of my ancestral maladies have actually manifested
mentally in what the quacks like to call madness. I'm not all there upstairs.
So from my very childhood I knew I wanted nothing more than to become
an awful and terrible murderer. And so I was, my dear Adam was
I ever? I murdered myself blue in the face. But here's the funny
thing about growing up a young killer in Victorian London. It was already a
very dangerous time to be alive. There was mercury and everything. The streets
were so choked with deadly fumes. We literally turned to opium for a breath
of fresh air. And arsknick, Oh, forget about it. We used
arsknick more than new modern gentlemen use the tinders constantly. So there I was
attempting to enter the annals of murdering history, and I was not receiving the
credit for any of my deadly endeavors. I mean, I am the greatest
murderer of all time. I killed over three hundred women all of the evening.
And it was not until the magistrate began to miss his Friday fish hold
the chips, if you know what I mean, that they even began investigating
why the brothels were all running dry. And in the end I only got
credit for a poultry five five sinko, as they say in Efpana. Now,
all that being said, I have some good news and I have some
rather bad news. The good news is that I am, as suspected,
the greatest murderer of all time, and if you're looking to learn the ways
of the serial killer, I am your man. Now the bad news,
I am unfortunately no longer allow to advise mortal men on the ways of dealing
death. Per the rules of hand their ghoul rules are no longer allowed to
dispense any murdery advice. There was some legal trouble with one Elizabeth Bathory,
you know, Lady Dracula, who may or may not have started a bit
of a stabby virgin blood drinking cabal type situation in Los Angeles, New York
and Atlanta. Very up and coming. Liz Bathory, by the way,
such fun, but there's nothing like spending an afternoon with her, wondering the
plains of hell. She kills me, then she drinks my blood. I
strangle her, do weird medical stuff with her body. She stabs me again,
fills my rectum with ants and bees, and then I poison her until
her veins codefined shatter. Then we go play a little game of cribbage.
It is a delight. So what I'm trying to say is if we stay
clear of the murdering arts, I am pleased to advise on anything you like,
ever, yours, Jack the Ripper, Dear Jack the Ripper. First
of all, I must say I am a huge fan and I cannot believe
I am corresponding with you. I absolutely knew you were not Aaron Kashmilshi that
was tested. However, now that I know that you are the real Jack
the Ripper, I unfortunately must terminate my contract and request a full refund in
the shame two dollar bills I provide I did as I are collectible. I
am not interested in corresponding unless we can discuss murder is the only thing my
heart desires. I have accomplished all of my other life goals, my jealous
lists, if you will, as I would never accept a mere bucket as
the vessel for this list. I have won the San Francisco Lord of the
rings Pinball Grand Prix. I have my own entry into the Guinness Book of
World Records for owning the most copies of the Guinness Book of World Records.
I have a monetized YouTube channel for my homemade Rube Goldberg machines, and thanks
to mother, I have learned to home freeze my own sperm. So one
might say I have lived a quite fulfilling life. My last and final goal
is to become an infamous serial killer. Make all the girls who made fun
of me in middle school, high school, elementary school, college, my
early twenties bitch twenties early thirties, and now pay and to leave my mark
kinda gaye guist forever, just like you. If you cannot give me murder
mentorship, I regret to inform you this will be our last correspondence. Securely,
Adam, my dearest Adam. From the moment I read your inquiry,
I knew I was speaking to a kindred spirit. Please, my good man,
do not forfeit our friendship. A spectacular gentleman such as yourself would be
a most worthy pupil of my vast stores of knowledge. Do reconsider you?
Seem like such a fascinating gent And I'm so very lonely. I mean not
lonely. I have a girlfriend. She just works for another hand agency in
Canada. She's very conventionally attractive. We don't have to confine ourselves solely to
the topic of murder. I wish we could, because I know so much
about murder, but sadly no, Might you be interested in another topic.
I am an avid collector of porcelain dolls, I am an excellent cook,
I am a sport enthusiast. Oh, I know, how do you feel
about the history of derigibles? This is something I find fascinating. I have
paper clips several of my favorite JPEG images to this missive for your enjoyment.
Looking forward to your response with great anticipation. All the best, Jack,
the repart. Hello Jack. I must say I am still quite disappointed that
we cannot discuss murder, but your deep dive into the history of diriguals has
given me a wonderful idea. There's another niche interest that we share. I
am also an avid home chef, and I would love to explore my carnivorous
proclivities with you. I am interested in the free range, farm to table
sourcing of my own meat, if you know what I beat. So my
issue seems to be that I know where to find the cows. However,
whenever I go to the pasture, I have trouble getting close enough to the
herd to get any of the heifers alone to slaughter and then then maybe eat
and do stuff with Are you picking up when I'm laying down? Jack?
I am at a total loss for so many reasons. One, the cow
are really shittish around me and don't seem to like me. Two, sometimes
they're like a million bols around and they are just like monopolizing all of their
time. Oh and three, it's illegal to get slaughter acal, I'll fresh
show so ya how do I how do I entice them back to my kitchen?
I honestly don't even know where to begin any advice. I'd wait your
response with eagerness. Best Adam ps. Your girlfriend in the Canadian hand Agency
sounds cool? Can I hear a pick? I wonder what Jack the rippers
personal meat sourcing secrets might be. We had no idea that he was such
an avid butcher. We thought he just killed people. Back to our story
and back to Jack. The thrilling conclusion of the archives of hand the Jack
t Ripper dilemma awaits. My dearest most beloved friend, Adam, I am
thrilled that you have elected to continue our tete a tete. I must confess
I was quite confused by your topic of conversation, but then I read your
letter aloud Liz Bathory as I was dismembering her, and she gave me some
wonderful advice. I will indeed tell you of all my personal private meat sourcing
secrets. Oh, how I have a long to share them. Let's begin.
First of all, when you are going to a pasture. Do make
sure that you bathe thoroughly and groom your mustache so you smell playn't. Nothing
puts a herd of cows on edge like the stench of an unkempt mustache.
Secondly, you will want to blend in. Do wear your best cape and
top hat so that no one will notice you. Thirdly, and most butchers
won't tell you this, but the real art of butchering is selecting the right
cow. You'll want one that is soft and pliable and a little bit naive,
not unlike a real cow, which is of course what we're talking about.
So strike that I personally look for cows that won't be missed, like
an orphan cow, or an immigrant cow, or a prostitute cow. All
right, I think I've said enough. Do give it a well and let
me know how everything goes. Ever, yours, Jack the ripper ps,
I don't have any picks of my lady friend who Israel and who's name is
a Penlope, Penelope Penelope desk draw she is Dutch. Two Jack dot t
dot ripper at hand dot com interhdis memo. Jack, it has come to
my attention that letter you write to nuclient may viole age strict hand policy.
When copy came across my desk today, I have to say, it doesn't
sound like you are talking about sourcing need It sounds like you are giving advice
on murder. Had our staff meeting and the new company hand the book.
This is strictly prohibited. That's one held the dark lord Kyle Davidson as susiate
director and customers service dear Jack, and the hand agent reading our private correspondence,
which is probably illegal. I was absolutely abhorred to learn that something were
made in regards to my prior mission. I do so wish your response had
not been so heavily censured. I pretty much only got to read the part
about grooming my mustache, which I had previously never thought to do, or
just say't like that, So I guess thank you. Perhaps a pivot is
in order. If we cannot converse about slaughtering cows, let's say instead we
extrapolate on something far more benign. I select sports anyone will do wherever your
expertise lies. Perhaps the biathlon, that is the ancient art of shooting things
with guns in the wilderness and then skiing away as fast as possible. Look
it up. If that is too risky sounding for the delicate ears of our
agency watchdogs. How about sports? There's golf? Golf. Yeah, is
here anything more boring and placid than golf? A bevy of rich Caucasian men
who travel to US included area with a bag of specialty implements and then while
away the afternoon swinging and striking at everything they see, hoping to get a
birdie or two, and of course driving those little cars so it'll be easy
to escape if anything goes awry. I just want a gamble. Any game
will do. Hopefully you get my meaning. Sport it can work all the
best Adams. How did you and Penelope guest raw meat, my most beloved
Adam, I am indeed picking up upon what you are laying down. Unfortunately
I do not participate in golf. It was invented in Scotland, and I'm
pretty sure you know the popular turn of phrase There's nothing worse than a scot
upon a hill. I am, however, an expert in fencing, a
gentlemanly sport. So what you want to do is find a worthy opponent who
you wish to defute. From the first thrust, you will want to act
without hesitation, give her no opportunity to strike. You want to advance,
thrust into her perry is never once allow her a moment to even consider an
outcome where she does not bend to your will. One does not ask,
who may I flunge you with my foil? There is nothing less attractive to
an adversary than simpering. Shall be on guard, No, you must be
bold, always advance, and always make sure your weapon is a razor sharp,
because it will cut through boniesier, which is a fencing term and not
a murdering term. If it were a murdering term, I wouldn't just say
it like that. I would say something more illuminating, like how you should
heat the blade to cauterize the flesh as you keel, so that the blood
doesn't get everywhere and leave a huge mess. That would be an example of
murder advice, which is not what this is fencing. I hope you find
this of use your dear friend Jack the ripper ps my girlfriend Penelope and I
measuge the keyboard window taxidermit beaver, which is a Dutch saying for a bar.
We message a bar two Jack dot t dot ripper at hand dot com
interadees memo, Jack, defensing analogy is clearly about murder. Please do not
continue to break our rules. That's true, there will not be a three.
Kyle Davis, an associate director, had customer service. Hello Jack,
I am sure that your last missive was packed with solid advice. However,
your hand overlords elected to redact almost every single word save my most beloved Adam.
Thank you. By the way, and for some reason, the word
flunge just hilarious, but out of context, I still do not know what
it means. Ah, Jack, I am truly at a loss. Why
don't we take a break from murder and instead and join interlude where you tell
me about your collection of painted porcelain dolls? I guess how did you start
your collection? Fond Adams. I hope someday I can go to the Netherlands
locate one of their famoush keyboard window taxle ermy beaver, you can meet my
own Penelope Destrawer. What a fairy tale? Do you guys think that you
will get married and you have kids? Hello dearest Adam. Why yes,
I thought you would never ask. I thought you only wanted to talk about
murder. Yeah, I'm more than happy to extol the many facets of my
extensive and rare collection of painted porcelain dolls, which are of course actual dolls
and nothing untoward. How did I start my collection? First I visited a
local antique store because I needed directions to the apothecary, where I purchased a
large bottle of chloroform. And then I returned to the antique store again,
also to ask for directions, this time to the local brothel, after which
I took the chloroform, some rope, my sharpest knife, murdered every last
woman in the brothel. And then I popped back into the antique store to
thank them for the excellent directions, and I saw the most precious porcelain doll.
And that is how I started my collection, which reminds me if you
are to become a murderer, you should always take care to befriend the local
shop owners. They provide excellent character witnesses, especially if you spend a lot
of money. I look forward to finishing this letter at a later date.
I must sign off for now, as an agent of hand has dropped by
to see me. Perhaps I'm getting a promotion, love or what you wheel?
Jack ps sadly no Penelope Destorer, and I will not be wet.
She has contracted a deadly malady known as doorknob canopy bed velvet cutains, five
place mantel completely full chamber pot itis, of which she has died, and
I do appreciate you never speaking of her ever again. Garish scack wow.
I cannot believe how long it has been our last Missieve, time flies when
you're having fun to say, say, and I have been having so much
fun. So after our last correspondence, the hand Agency did terminate my account,
but right before it was shut down, I got one last note from
your friend Liz Bathery, who directed me to a hearing of seminars that changed
my life. I joined Kinwa, a feminist collective that started as a stabby
virgin blood drinking cabal type situation, but it's now just a regular old call.
They really opened my eyes to my own internalized misogyny. Did you know
that the friend zone doesn't exist? Did you know that consent is sexy and
this one was wild? Did you know that women are people just like us?
And mother? What? So? Now that my yone is open,
I realize I don't want to kill and punish women. I want to kill
and punish people. It doesn't matter what gender they are. And it turns
out that luring men back to my lair is way easier than luring women.
Let me tell you. You just say hey, buddy, I've got a
PS five and boom, it's dungeon time. Baby. Oh I have killed
so many men. Oh Jack, I wish he would have been part of
this swoke twenty first century. You would have wah loved it. By the
way. I looked up Penelope desk Roer at the Canadian Hand Agency and how
do I put this? It seems like you have made it all up,
every single part of it, because how could she have died of doorknob,
canopy, bed, velvet curtains, fireplace, mantel, completely full chamberpot if
in order to work at hand you have to be dead already. So after
looking her up, I reached out. I do not know if Hand censors
X rated sexy talk the same way they censor murder talk, but sit I
did meet up. And even though she is a demon, we have been
regularly at acted acted, we'd acted or has been I'll be chas in her
native ducked also with the help of mother, we have been exploring. We'd
acted, We'd acted with acted, and then I am a Blurg and I
reacted We'd acted with acted? Owashi, where's my authentic original helmet as first
worn by Pedro Bakal in The Mandalorian Anyway, I hope define you well,
and I also hope that someday I will see you in hell. You're most
beloved, Adams. We acted and that was the Archives of Hand the Jack
t Ripper Dilemma. We hope you found it edifying. The cast featured in
this episode include Chris Woolsey as the Madman, Adam Masterson, Michael Pate as
hand Agent Kyle Davison, and James Kleinman as Jack the Ripper. The Archives
of Hand the Jack t Ripper Dilemma was written by Liz Liser and Chris Woolsey
and co directed by Ali Silva, Liz Liser and case La Forest. Music
for the Archives of Hand mini series was composed by Ari Kessler. Fireside Mystery
Theater is produced by Gustavo Rodriguez and me Ali Silva for Fireside Mystery Productions,
The intro music for this episode was composed by Nico slater. Liz Liser is
our operations guru, Casey la Forest is our social media Maven Faith Johnson is
our production coordinator, and Jason Graves composed our FMT theme music. I manage
our audio production, post production and sound design. Hey, would you like
to listen to our episodes without the ads and help support us at the same
time? Become an FMT Patreon patron for five bucks or more per month and
you got it. We have all kinds of rewards at different levels, plus
a peek into the mind and collections of our very own head writer, Sylvan
Sandovar with his weekly missive exclusive for our patrons. Go to patreon dot com
slash Fireside Mystery Theater or follow the links from our website to check it out.
And to our current fabulous patrons, we could write a million love letters
to you, and it wouldn't be enough to express our immense adoration and gratitude.
Thanks for keeping us going. An extra special PostScript to our patron,
Michelle Henderer, we see you adding more fuel to our fireside. Thank you
so much, Michel. If you like what we do, rate us and
review us, I guess even if you don't like what we do, you
can let us know. I mean, sure, we are super hungry for
positive feedback, but we are open to the constructive criticism too, always learning
and growing. Bibby Young Adam found solace behind the towering gaits of nerdy fandom
and collectorship. Old Jack found solace in the dimly lit brothels and smoky alleyways
of ye old London Town. Both were drawn to the darkest, most hidden
corners of their respective eras while simultaneously seeking to be seen. It makes one
wonder what dark desires have you been hiding from the light, and what terrible
appetites require you to mind the shadows.