Speaker 1: Nine Story Studios Gain Story a Voice.
Speaker 2: My name is Erica Sanderson and this is the Wicked
Speaker 2: Library Warning.
Speaker 3: The Wicked Library is a horror fiction podcast created for
Speaker 3: a mature audience. Our stories contain graphic descriptions of pain, murder, violence, blood, betrayal,
Speaker 3: and inhumanity. Monsters win, people die, and hope is often shattered.
Speaker 3: There is also beauty, heart, catharsis, and raw emotion. Fear
Speaker 3: may be deeply personal, but we all share it. If
Speaker 3: at any time a story takes you to a place
Speaker 3: too dark, turn on the lights, press pause or press stop,
Speaker 3: and always remember that, unlike in the real world, these
Speaker 3: nightmares and your participation in them, are under your control.
Speaker 3: Welcome back to The Wicked Library. I'm Daniel Foytech, and
Speaker 3: as always thank you for listening. A sincere thank you
Speaker 3: as well to our supporters on Patreon. Without your continued
Speaker 3: support and generosity, this show would not be possible. We're
Speaker 3: thrilled the kickoff season thirteen with a tale from returning
Speaker 3: author Lindsay Goddard, A story of unfinished business, haunting, grudges,
Speaker 3: and one very unlucky poodle, told with wit and charm
Speaker 3: by Addison Peacock. Future a custom score by nikov dz
Speaker 3: of the Inky.
Speaker 4: Pop right Almost Finished Business by Lindsay Goddard. Yes it's true.
Speaker 4: I am the loser ghost who haunts Alma Gentry's poodle,
Speaker 4: causing it to poop in her living room. I'm the
Speaker 4: pathetic spector who buries treats in her garden so that
Speaker 4: the empty headed little fur ball named Marshmallow will dig
Speaker 4: holes in her petunia bed. I'm the one who gathers
Speaker 4: water making mud puddles in hopes of staining the curly
Speaker 4: white fur of Marshmallow's spindly legs after a visit to
Speaker 4: the groomer. And I'm here to explain to you, the
Speaker 4: Ghost Council, why this is a productive use of my time.
Speaker 4: I know, I know the earth is overrun by wondering
Speaker 4: spirits with unfinished business. You're only doing your jobs by
Speaker 4: guiding them toward the light. But calling me here has
Speaker 4: been a big waste of time, because haunting Almah j
Speaker 4: Entry's poodle and causing it to poop in her living
Speaker 4: room is exactly what I must do with my afterlife.
Speaker 4: She's got everyone fooled with her plastered smile and fake
Speaker 4: tan blonde hair pulled up into a neat bun atop
Speaker 4: her head. But underneath that prim attire is a sinful,
Speaker 4: hell bound soul. I'm simply starting her punishment early. And
Speaker 4: I promise I get no joy from spooking the dog
Speaker 4: or hearing it squeal as it skitters away from a
Speaker 4: disembodied whisper in its ear. Almah shaking her head and saying,
Speaker 4: what has gotten into you? I would never cause Marshmallow
Speaker 4: any pain, And if I manage to drive Almah to
Speaker 4: the point of violence, I'll knock her on her ass
Speaker 4: before she touches that poor furball. I guarantee you that
Speaker 4: haunting the dog is only a means to an end.
Speaker 4: Almah must suffer the way I suffered in life so
Speaker 4: that I can move on. She must fall to her
Speaker 4: knees and admit she isn't perfect, and that she doesn't
Speaker 4: have all the answers, So many answers, answers to questions
Speaker 4: I never asked. I never wanted a dog. I know
Speaker 4: that's impossible for dog people to understand, But what did
Speaker 4: you ask? Who are dog people? You know the ones
Speaker 4: I'm referring to, the ones who crouched down on all
Speaker 4: fours to get a better look at their dog's stool
Speaker 4: rated on a scale of one to ten, then raise
Speaker 4: their brow at a person for admitting they'd rather not.
Speaker 4: Why would I have wanted to do that. I could
Speaker 4: barely take care of myself, much less a life form
Speaker 4: that can only express its needs in grunts and howls.
Speaker 4: But then I met Travis, and for one sweet but
Speaker 4: fleeting moment in time, I was smitten and thought I
Speaker 4: could change. I made it clear on the dating website
Speaker 4: that children would never be in the cards. Travis accepted
Speaker 4: that without debate. He said he liked my freckles and
Speaker 4: my limp brown hair, and all the mundane characteristics that
Speaker 4: had marked me as a plain Jane in my entire life.
Speaker 4: There was just one little catch. Travis worked at the
Speaker 4: gentry rescue center and loved dogs. No big deal, I
Speaker 4: told myself, I can adjust. If I had known Travis
Speaker 4: would die and abandon me with phineas a mischievous terrier
Speaker 4: mixed with perpetual crust in its eyes, rotten farts like
Speaker 4: the sulfurs of hell, and a skin condition which required
Speaker 4: expensive medicine, I would have hide tailed in the other direction.
Speaker 4: But Travis was different. He intrigued me. I never thought
Speaker 4: I'd fall for a blue eyed guy with sandy blonde hair.
Speaker 4: Usually I was attracted to brown skin and dark eyes,
Speaker 4: but Travis pursued me in messages, and the smile in
Speaker 4: his photo drew me in a smile that proved even
Speaker 4: better in person, not a flawless one. But when he
Speaker 4: flashed it, I turned to puddy. I know that sounds corny,
Speaker 4: but if it's any consolation, this doesn't end well for me.
Speaker 4: About two years into our relationship, I realized Travis didn't
Speaker 4: love me. I should have done sooner, but I'd spent
Speaker 4: my entire life pretending to receive love that was never
Speaker 4: really there. My degenerate parents had left me alone with
Speaker 4: an outdated TV set during most of my childhood, and
Speaker 4: as it turned out, Travis wasn't much different, often abandoning
Speaker 4: me at home to care for the dogs while he
Speaker 4: went out for some strange What does that mean you ask? Oh?
Speaker 4: Forgive me? I forgot that Most members of the Ghost
Speaker 4: Council died so long ago they don't understand my slang.
Speaker 4: Let me put it this way, Travis would have sex
Speaker 4: with just about any woman but me. I think all
Speaker 4: along he just wanted a caregiver for the dogs. All
Speaker 4: the gentry asked him to foster. There was a slew
Speaker 4: of misfit mongrels in and out of our home. While
Speaker 4: Travis attempted to kiss Alma's ass and become her right
Speaker 4: hand man, the second best paying position at Gentry's rescue center.
Speaker 4: Once the honeymoon was over and I was all moved
Speaker 4: in scrubbing piss out of the carpet while my man
Speaker 4: was out doing god knows who, I became stuck in
Speaker 4: a prison from which I could not escape, not even
Speaker 4: when he died, Even with all his faults, it broke
Speaker 4: my heart. Losing Travis the car accident is something so
Speaker 4: sudden and shocking, but the fact that he died with
Speaker 4: another woman in his passenger seat hurt me even more.
Speaker 4: I spent weeks sulking around in my pajamas. I wished
Speaker 4: I had never met him, never traded the freedom of
Speaker 4: my tiny apartment for the prison sentence of this suburban
Speaker 4: split level house only a two minute walk from Alma Genter. Yes,
Speaker 4: that Alma, who, instead of dropping by with a fresh
Speaker 4: baked casserole or kind words to ease my grief, dropped
Speaker 4: by with advice on flamds for Phineas, and nagged me
Speaker 4: to schedule a check up with the vet. Tell me this,
Speaker 4: If I'm such a menace and that woman is undeserving
Speaker 4: of my harassment, why couldn't I get just five minutes
Speaker 4: of sunshine without her shadow falling over me, her twangy
Speaker 4: voice asking are you blinding to treat the grass? One minute,
Speaker 4: I'm watching Phineas poke his snout through the weeds looking
Speaker 4: for rabbit turds to eat. Sorry for all the talk
Speaker 4: about excrement, but from what I can tell, that's half
Speaker 4: of owning a dog. The next minute, I'm closing my
Speaker 4: eyes and angling my face toward the sun, only to
Speaker 4: have its warm rays blotted out by Alma Gentry's shadow.
Speaker 4: Her voice had been like a noose around my last
Speaker 4: nerve this time of year, the poisonous mushroom sprout, She'd said,
Speaker 4: as if I hadn't just closed my eyes searching for
Speaker 4: a moment's piece, Phineas will eat them and get six
Speaker 4: So Travis used a pet friendly we'd killer on the
Speaker 4: law this time of year, taking note of my disinterest
Speaker 4: but casting it aside. As always, she added, do you
Speaker 4: need me to write down the brand. I don't know
Speaker 4: why I tolerated Almah some days, going so far as
Speaker 4: to invite her inside so she could nitpick over the
Speaker 4: bones I gave Phineas. Not being raw hide free, I
Speaker 4: kept telling myself that eventually she'd consider me a friend
Speaker 4: and stop with her ceaseless bitching. Gentry. Rescue Center had
Speaker 4: paid for the house in which I lived, after all,
Speaker 4: and besides, where else could I go? My parents were dead,
Speaker 4: and after five years together, all my friends were Travis's friends,
Speaker 4: and they were all Rescue Center people, dog people. No
Speaker 4: one thought to ask how I was coping with Travis's death. Nope,
Speaker 4: all they had asked was how is Phineas doing? What
Speaker 4: about me? I would think, don't I matter? He's such
Speaker 4: a special pop they would often add. If by special
Speaker 4: they met so physically mutated and mentally affected that not
Speaker 4: a single person had wanted to adopt him, forcing Travis
Speaker 4: to rescue him out of pity, then yes, Phineas was special,
Speaker 4: one big, special problem who relentlessly stuck his nose up
Speaker 4: my ass, chewed holes in my furniture, and destroyed my possessions,
Speaker 4: right down to the last gift Travis had given me
Speaker 4: before dying a cashmere sweater I found strewn across the
Speaker 4: floor in thirty seven pieces. When I vented about the
Speaker 4: ruined sweater to Almah, I noticed a semblance of sadness
Speaker 4: on her face and felt like she'd finally understood how
Speaker 4: lousy Phineas was making my life. But then she had said,
Speaker 4: I bet Phineas could smell Travis on that sweater. You
Speaker 4: never wore it, so it smelled like him from when
Speaker 4: he wrapped it. Be patient. A dog's bomb with its
Speaker 4: owner is so strong. Do whatever you must do to
Speaker 4: keep this dog, is what you might as well have said.
Speaker 4: Much more important than your own happiness is that our
Speaker 4: rescue center succeeded in saving this mongrel's life and placing
Speaker 4: him in his forever home. But it wasn't about the
Speaker 4: welfare of the dog. It never was. Almah only cares
Speaker 4: about Almah's image. Last week, when I framed Marshmallow for
Speaker 4: chewing open the shoe box tucked away in her closet
Speaker 4: by tearing at the cardboard, then covering the one hundred
Speaker 4: dollars bills from inside it in ectoplasm and laying them
Speaker 4: in wet trails across the floor. Guess where Almah had
Speaker 4: gotten all that money from cash charity donations to the rescue.
Speaker 4: That's where I repeat on the gentry is not a
Speaker 4: good person. Do you see now? Do you see how
Speaker 4: this woman has earned every minute of her haunting? One
Speaker 4: of you is nodding. That's a good sign. Look, I
Speaker 4: know who filed the complaint that has landed me here
Speaker 4: before the Ghost Council. It was the shackled, hooded wraith
Speaker 4: who haunts the creek bed beyond Alma's backyard fence, the
Speaker 4: one who cannot leave the spa where he died. You've
Speaker 4: put on your best poker faces, but I know it's
Speaker 4: true that sad soul burns with envy as he watches
Speaker 4: me kick up dust. He doesn't have the strength to
Speaker 4: break his chains and wonder free like I do. I
Speaker 4: gotta ask why does he get any say in how
Speaker 4: I find my light? I mean, talk about the blind
Speaker 4: leading that not blind. He'll never find his light. If
Speaker 4: that guy was any more rooted to the earth, he'd
Speaker 4: be a tree stump. Listen, I don't know why old
Speaker 4: clatter chain McGee can't summon the strength to affect the
Speaker 4: living world. That's not my problem. But I'll tell you
Speaker 4: why I can. I'm mad. I'm mad at my parents
Speaker 4: for never loving me enough. I'm mad at Travis for
Speaker 4: never loving me at all. But they're all dead now,
Speaker 4: which leaves one target for my angst. And do you
Speaker 4: know what Alma Gentry said at my funeral? Do you
Speaker 4: with that Southern bell lilt? She turned to all our
Speaker 4: mutual friends and said, I still can't believe she would
Speaker 4: do something so selfish and leave poor Phineas behind like this.
Speaker 4: She then proceeded to use my suicide story to guilt
Speaker 4: three perspective families before adopting Phineas out to the fourth.
Speaker 4: I martyred myself for that dog, and that's all she
Speaker 4: had to say about me. Despite the complaint you received,
Speaker 4: my haunting of Alma Gentry has made the beam of
Speaker 4: light in the sky grow brighter, drawing nearer. I think
Speaker 4: once I break her, I feel satisfied enough to move on.
Speaker 4: I've seen those poultrygeists who throw dishes from the kitchen
Speaker 4: cupboard and stack the dining room chairs. I don't see
Speaker 4: the point of it. Deflating Alma Gentry's huge head is
Speaker 4: the only retribution I seek, and I'm so close instead
Speaker 4: of unfinished business, we might as well call this almost
Speaker 4: finished business. So can you let me go?
Speaker 3: Now?
Speaker 4: Almost? Do to let Marshmallow outside any minute? If I
Speaker 4: don't spook the little bugger every time he squats down,
Speaker 4: he might end up pooping in the yard instead of
Speaker 4: holding it until he eventually lets loose all over almost
Speaker 4: green colored carpet, which turns browner by the day. And
Speaker 4: if that doesn't break her out, what's up? I'm pretty leave.
Speaker 4: No need to plead my case any further, and you
Speaker 4: ghost elders, much respect to you and yours. But before
Speaker 4: I go, can I ask one favor? Maybe I don't
Speaker 4: deserve any favors, since I'm a loser ghost who frames
Speaker 4: a poodle for my high jinks. But for whatever it's worth,
Speaker 4: I was a good person. I was the kind of
Speaker 4: person to return a lost wallet. I kind to give
Speaker 4: up my last few dollars just because somebody needed it.
Speaker 4: This bitter entity you see before you was not always so.
Speaker 4: She was a human who cared and loved. I have
Speaker 4: no doubt where I'll go when the light reaches me,
Speaker 4: or when I reach it however that works. It's just
Speaker 4: that maybe it would come sooner if I knew that
Speaker 4: Travis's punishment fittest crimes. I have a suggestion for the
Speaker 4: big guy downstairs, if I may. Travis must be down there.
Speaker 4: No way he could cross the pearly gates with that
Speaker 4: trail of broken hearts behind him. I wasn't the only
Speaker 4: one he heard. His icy blue eyes, his styled hair,
Speaker 4: and handsome smile were a mask that hit a monster
Speaker 4: who lied and cheated to get whatever he wanted. Not
Speaker 4: to mention the stolen charity donations he knew damn well about.
Speaker 4: We all know he's down there, So may I make
Speaker 4: a request. Half of having a dog is dealing with
Speaker 4: the poop, just like I said before. But Travis never
Speaker 4: dealt with any of it. We fostered a dozen dogs
Speaker 4: at least, and Travis never lifted a finger. He left
Speaker 4: me to shovel the yard, me to collect samples for
Speaker 4: the vet, me to scrub the carpet. He left me
Speaker 4: at home to waste my life while he went out
Speaker 4: and lived his. I hope he is scrubbing poop. I
Speaker 4: hope he is shoveling it, wallowing knee deep in it.
Speaker 4: I hope steam rises from the endless piles of it
Speaker 4: all around him. I hope it's under every step he takes.
Speaker 4: I hope the stench is all he can breathe did
Speaker 4: you possibly pass that along? Thank you, Ghost Counsel. It's
Speaker 4: been an honor meeting you today. I really must be
Speaker 4: going now. I think I heard almost door slide open
Speaker 4: and the pitter pattern of Marshmallow's paws across the porch.
Speaker 4: I must get back to my almost finished business.
Speaker 3: Thank you for listening to episode thirteen oh one. Today's
Speaker 3: story was Almost Finished Business by Lindsay Goddard. Our storyteller
Speaker 3: was the incomparable Addison Peacock. To discover more dark Tales
Speaker 3: and other shows from Ninth Story Studios, visit the Wickedlibrary
Speaker 3: dot com and ninth Story dot com. Do you have
Speaker 3: your own tale waiting to be told? Submissions for thirteen
Speaker 3: are now open. Visit our website for details on how
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