CRYPT CLIPS: Scary Stories for Stormy Nights

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
I'm Edward October. The sound you hear is summer thunder.
The worst storm of the year is brewing, and your
house is directly in its path. This is the start
of October Pod. There's a terrible storm and all the

(00:30):
lights are out. You use the light on your phone
to find the fuse box, and you fumble around with
the breakers, but to no avail through the window. There's
total darkness. The storm's already knocked out the electricity in
the whole neighborhood, and it's just getting started. Who knows

(00:51):
when it'll come back on. There's nothing for it but
to sit tight. Good thing you've downloaded this podcast, because
I've assembled over ninety minutes of chilling, thrilling stories for
stormy nights for your uneasy listening. And during the intermission,

(01:16):
I'll share with you my favorite horror movies to watch
on a dark and stormy night.

Speaker 2 (01:24):
Keep it right here.

Speaker 3 (01:37):
Most fellers on a week long hunting trip would have
been armed at the teeth. We were not, but I
doubt it would have made any difference. Yanodon Trouble inspired
by a true story narrated by Edward October. My uncle

(02:00):
west on some Land and a cabin and rural Tennessee.
It's adjacent to a small lake and a few good
creeks running through it, so anybody in the family who
wants to hunt or fish on his property are always welcome.
I don't know if there's any unexplored country in the
Lower forty eight, but if there is, then the woods
near Uncle Wes's cabin has got to be a candidate.

(02:23):
The trough is a cob down there, and dense with
a wall of gnarly sticker bushes over ten paces, and
doubt if anybody but sportsmen have ever set foot in
that prickly hell since the days of Daniel Boone. Still
it's quiet and nobody out there to bother you, and
it's full of whitetail bucks. Cabin was built one summer
about thirty years ago my uncle West and his wife's brother,

(02:46):
and it sits right at the fork of a creek.
Nobody's ever bothered a name. Every year me and my
buddy jac go down there for a week of hunting.
On what turned out to be our last trip, we
ended up staying there on the rainious week of a
really wet deer season. We stayed inside the first two
days watching that rainwater that's thick with clay washing out

(03:07):
all the gullies. J C picked his guitar on the
porch and we played a lot of poker and drank
a lot of beer. We was up late on the
second night, pretty buzzed and laughing two hard at each
other's jokes. Then JC stopped laughing and just stared out
the window beam of a flashlight was head right.

Speaker 2 (03:27):
Out to cabin.

Speaker 3 (03:28):
Now, mind you, we was on post of property, closest
neighbors miles away. Our first thought was that whoever it
was meant to do us harm, there's no damn good
reason for enybody to be out there. We had one
rifle on us, but we left it in the truck,
so we has left with a couple of compound bows
and some bear spray. JCED run into trouble with the

(03:49):
game warden before, and he figured that's who this guy was.
I told him it'd have to be an awfully enterprising
game warden to come after him at the middle of
the night and all this rain. Long story short, he
ended up being Old Toby. Now, everybody who hunted in
this part of the county knew Old Toby. He said
he's a cryptozoologist, but I'd be shocked if he graduated

(04:11):
from high school.

Speaker 2 (04:13):
Maybe a ged.

Speaker 3 (04:15):
You could always find him poking around in the bushes,
dressed up like a Cabella's catalog and looking for sasquatch bigfoot.
Whenever you talked to him, he'd say he'd been out squatching.
He combed in woods for at least thirty years and
never turned up so much as a size eleven and
a half footprint. Toby come into the cabin all out
of sorts. He insisted that we bolt the door behind him,

(04:40):
and some bitch was soaked to the skin, looked like
he hadn't slept for three days, and smelled like he
hadn't touched a bar soap for about a week. We
sat him down by the wood stove to dry off.
JC handed him a mug coffee with a slogan wild
Turkey in it. He wasn't sitting there for more than
five minutes before I started g asking him about his

(05:01):
bigfoot hobby.

Speaker 2 (05:02):
He told us he'd been.

Speaker 3 (05:03):
Running all day from something big and mean, and it
weren't no squatch. Said he'd found animal carcasses all over
the woods, deer hunting dogs and the bear cub. Now
this startled me because if Mama bear was out looking
for a missing cub would be in deep trouble. Of course,
the reality turned out to be much worse. Toby said

(05:24):
all these animals had been slit up in the middle,
like they'd been sliced open with scissors or something, and all.

Speaker 2 (05:31):
The guts pulled out.

Speaker 3 (05:33):
And right before dark, Toby said he heard something holler
that scared him about half to death. Wasn't like the
cries of a bigfoot, he says, said. Whatever it was,
it had to awfless mouth on it you'd ever heard.
We offered to drive Toby back to his truck, but
he said he wouldn't be able to find it in

(05:53):
the darken the rain. Be honest, we're all a little
too drunk to go looking for it, so we let
Toby sleep on the couch.

Speaker 4 (06:03):
Man.

Speaker 2 (06:04):
It turned out to be a wild, restless night.

Speaker 3 (06:14):
I was laying in my bun listening to the sound
of timbers bowing and cracking in the heavy wind. Then
the rain picked up. You never heard a racket like
a downpour on a tin roof. Several times I heard
a scratching sound like somebody running a metal rake over
the top.

Speaker 2 (06:31):
Of the cabin.

Speaker 3 (06:33):
Figured it as a tree branch scraping the roof, and
I got scared that the tree might fall offs. It
would be easy for one to be uprooted with the
ground as saturated as it was. And then I heard it.
Old Toby was right. Whatever it was, it had the awfuls.

Speaker 2 (06:51):
Mouth on it i'd ever heard.

Speaker 3 (07:03):
Next morning, we decided to cut our losses and head
back to town. The rain hadn't let up, but I
was eager to get some fresh air. Took a walk
around in the cabin and I saw where the wind
or something peeled up a few sheets of tin from
the roof. It's wondering we didn't have rain porn down
on the back of our next all night, so we

(07:26):
piled in the truck with the all our gear. Old
Toby is still a drunker and a monkey's ass from
the night before. It took us a while to get
your truck out of a mud slick, but we finally
headed up the little dirt road, and when we did,
we took a slow and easy Toby slept the whole way,
and me and JC just puckered our asses each time
we drove through a standing water. The rain never did

(07:48):
let up, and we heard the aggression sound at Gustin Wynn.
Anything was We didn't see the wind disturbing the trees,
so we rounded this bend in the road where the
he could swollen, and then.

Speaker 2 (08:01):
We saw it through the trees.

Speaker 3 (08:04):
Several yards out was something that looked like a nest
of animal carcasses. Then this is about the size of
two or three compact cars parked at a cluster. Much
of it was just bones and sticks and gore. It's
wondering we didn't smell it before we ended up seeing it.
JC pressed his head up against the window and started

(08:25):
naming all the animals he could identify deers, fox, possum, catfish, turtle,
park of the brown bear, two halves of two different
hunting dogs. Before could ever start to wonder what in
the world could have done this thing, Toby jumped out
of the truck and lit off in the opposite direction.

(08:47):
We hollered at him to come back, and he hollered
something back at us, and all we could make out
of that was not my meat. That's all we could
That's all we could understand from what he said. Not
my meat. Anyway, With old Toby gone. We didn't waste
much time debating whether to chase after him or not,
crazy old bastard noe.

Speaker 2 (09:07):
We let out there in a hurry.

Speaker 3 (09:09):
We didn't get far before we ran into a down
tree blocking our path. The brush was too rough and
the ground was too soggy for us to try and
drive around it.

Speaker 2 (09:21):
We'd have to move it somehow.

Speaker 3 (09:23):
We got out of the truck and tugged on it,
but it's too slick to get a good grip on it.
Maybe if we'd had drier conditions. Anyway, we decided to
get back into truck and see if the rain would
let up and try to move it or cut it
or bust it up. Somehow, rain let up a little,
but the wind got gussed here. J C looked at
me and said, George, we better not go out there.

(09:46):
This thing might be whipping up a tornado. Now, tornadoes
are aring that part of the state, especially at that
time of year. Still, JC had a point. The wind
was tossing around all kinds of debris. Some of it
struck a truck so so hard we was afraid he'd
bust out a window. So we sat about an hour
hour and a half later we got out started working

(10:09):
on that down tree, about hooking it up to the
trailer hitch, dragging it away with the truck, but it
was too muddy to pull it. Last thing we needed
was to get the tires stuck in mud. So there
we were with one little handsaw trying to saw up
a tree, and it was slow work. It took most

(10:29):
of the afternoon. By about four o'clock we just about
cleared enough of it away for us to pass, and
right about sundown it was a sound that still haunts
my dreams today. Never heard anything like it before, and

(10:50):
I pray to God I never hear it again. That
mouth was hungry, and that mouth was close. We kicked
the rest of that tree out of the road, piled
into the truck quicker and grease catshit and lit out
of there, like the devil was.

Speaker 2 (11:05):
Biting our asses, and it probably was.

Speaker 3 (11:08):
We thought the winds had picked up again, but now
it seemed more like a whiff of air from these
massive wings flapping just above the truck. And then these dead,
mashed up fish greened down on us like hailstone.

Speaker 2 (11:24):
That's not the whole.

Speaker 3 (11:26):
Time we heard this wild holler. At one point I
was so brave or so stupid, poked my head out
the window. I looked up and saw I thought I
saw something with wings keeping close pace with us, leathery skin,
a scissor bill half as long as the truck, and
a head shaped like a pickaxe. I don't know how

(11:48):
we made it out of the woods, but when we did,
we drove halfway to.

Speaker 2 (11:53):
Knoxville without stopping or speaking to each other. That was
the last hunting trip me and JC.

Speaker 1 (12:56):
Through hike, A true story narrated by Sirrah host of
Freaky af.

Speaker 5 (13:06):
A few years ago, I was doing a solo through
hike of the Aight. I started at a trailhead in Georgia,
but only got as far as Damascus thanks to an
ankle injury. That's a story for another time. It was
September and I was on my way to a shelter
on a secluded section of the trail between northern North

(13:26):
Carolina and southwest Virginia. I'm not going to say what
shelter was, because I don't think anybody should go back there.
I was hiking faster and more recklessly than I normally
would because I was trying to get to the shelter.
Before some severe weather moved in. Several times on my
way to the shelter, I noticed a figure standing up

(13:48):
on a ridge, a man. He was always positioned so
that he was backlit by the sun, and I couldn't
make out his feature res or what he was wearing.
He was just a dark figure looking down on me
from the top of a rise. Figured he was a
day hiker, or another throw hiker, or maybe even a

(14:09):
nature photographer. In retrospect, I had noticed he wasn't wearing
a backpack or carrying any gear, which would have been
a red flag if I wasn't in such a damned hurry.
The closer I got to the shelter, the more trash
I noticed along the trail, dirty discarded plastic bottles, strips
of fabric caught on trees and sticker bushes, scraps of notepaper,

(14:32):
even stuff like that. Normally I would try to pick
up any letter I saw, but again I was in
a hurry. I got to the shelter and saw it
was so run down that I'd rather take my chances
weathering the storm in my tent than was disturbing an
animal nests inside the shelter. I set up my tent

(14:52):
in a location where the shelter would shield me from
the wind when the storm arrived. I also rigged up
a tarp over the to act as sort of a
rain fly. I left my pack in my boots just
outside the tent, remember the tarp was there to keep
the rain off, and cozied up in my sleeping bag.
Dinner that night was a cliff bar because I'd planned

(15:16):
on dozing off listening to the rain and thunder. I'd
left my phone and headphones in my pack. Other hikers
rag on me for packing big, heavy canstyle headphones instead
of light compact earbuds. I'm a light sleeper, especially in
the woods, and they're really good at canceling out background noise.

(15:37):
In the morning, I went in my bag and got
out my phone to listen to some rage against the
Machine to help me wake up. When I put on
my headphones, though, I felt something tickling my ear. I
thought I'd just gotten my hair stuck in my headphones,
and then I felt it again. I took off my
headphones and the biggest fucking spider I'd ever seen in

(15:58):
my life crawled out. Thankfully, it scurried out of the
tent and didn't hide in any of my stuff. I
packed up quick and started to high tail it out
of there. As I was leaving, I saw a piece
of notebook paper, similar to the kinds I'd seen littering
the trail, nailed to the outside of the wooden shelter.
I would have noticed it the day before. It had

(16:20):
to have been nailed up overnight. It was a note.
It said, next time it will be a black widow, bitch.
This was your only warning. Had the man I'd seen
on the trail been stalking me? Had he planted that
spider in my headphones? I got out of there in
a hurry. I filed a report with the US four

(16:43):
Service and with the police, but nothing ever came of it.

Speaker 3 (16:54):
I had my first night terror when I was seventeen.
It was the night my first girlfriend dumped me. Rainy night,
just like this one. I ran at a stack of
the weirdest, crappiest tapes I could find at the treasure
Chest video a few blocks from my house. Cried myself
to sleep that night, but Bela Lugosi, Barbara Steele, Klauskinski,

(17:16):
and Udo kir kept me company. Though the weird images
on the screen quickly bled into my dreams. That's when
I first met my sleep paralysis demon. The night Chopper,
narrated by Edward October. Sleep paralysis is a condition which

(17:46):
results in a feeling of being conscious yet unable to
move during the transitional stages between sleep and wakefulness. Many
feel pressure on their bodies or a choking sensation. It's
estimated that as many as four out of every ten
people experience sleep paralysis. All things considered, my night terrors

(18:09):
are pretty ordinary. I got lucky.

Speaker 1 (18:11):
I guess I'm on a first named basis with my
sleep paralysis demon. She's a crone type, like a nighthag.
Two years ago I named her Karen, and she just
sits on my chest or at the foot of my
bed and stares at me all night. But this thing

(18:33):
I'm going to tell you about, this was different. I
live alone with my dog, Cheddar, in a two story
town home. This particular night, I fell asleep in the

(18:53):
recliner watching a bunch of episodes of The Prisoner on
Amazon Prime. I woke up at some point in the
night late and I was lying on the floor in
the dining room, right next to Cheddar's dog bed. Cheddar
was snoring so my first thought was, obviously, how did
I get here? But then I told myself I was dreaming,

(19:17):
probably gearing up for an epic session with Karen. Except
except my night terrors don't usually shoot on location. I mean,
they always take place in the room where I was sleeping,
you know, like my bedroom or in this case, on
the recliner.

Speaker 3 (19:38):
I didn't get very far trying to answer these questions
when a brilliant spotlight started to shine through the picture
window in the dining room. It flooded the room with
this white hot light. I tried to move but couldn't,
which is a textbook sign of a night terror. I
heard the buzzing coming from another room.

Speaker 2 (20:01):
At first, it sounded like a very.

Speaker 3 (20:03):
Large bumblebeam, but as it came closer, it sounded like
a chopper, like a military chopper. And then in came
this drone like what you'd used to shoot GoPro footage with.
I can't really give a better description than that. It

(20:23):
was just this glossy black object hovering towards me. I
couldn't move, so I was unable to see where it
came from. But I guess it was coming from upstairs
because I heard footsteps descending the stairs behind it, and
of course it was Karen Grew. She was holding like

(20:44):
an RC controller, presumably to pilot the little drone. By
the time Karen entered the room, the drone had landed
square on my chest. It was a tiny object, but
it was heavy. And then Karen came and stood over me.
Now Karen was never a pleasant old broad, but this

(21:06):
time she looked like the embodiment of evil. She straddled
my chest at about the spot where she'd parked the
Chopper drone thingy, and then she wrapped her long knobby
fingers around my neck and squeezed. She'd never choked me
out before, not my friendly neighborhood night terror.

Speaker 2 (21:30):
This was new.

Speaker 3 (21:32):
I could feel myself suffocating as I started to black out.
Karen's face melted, her eyes turned black and started spreading
out like pancake batter on a hot skillet. Her skin

(21:53):
became a pale gray color, and the moment I should
have passed out, I woke out there. This time I

(22:23):
was awake for real, and I was in my bed.
I don't know how I'd gotten there. I didn't know,
I didn't know. I still don't know how I got
there and I was wearing my work clothes, even though
I changed into a T shirt and sweats before i'd

(22:44):
started watching TV. My body ached with this deep tissue
ache that I'd never felt before. That feeling terrified me
because I thought it was COVID. I mean, this was
the early days of the pandemic. I'd had trouble breathing overnight,
and now I had body aches. It seemed like classic

(23:09):
symptoms given what we knew about COVID back then. I
went out and got tested that very day. Came back negative, thankfully,
but I still felt like crap, and for about a
week after that, I could barely drag myself out of bed.
Sleepy as I was, I wasn't able to sleep well.

(23:32):
I'd wake myself up every fifteen minutes or so to
avoid another night terror. I had a dread of meeting
this new super pissed off Karen again. Fast forward a
week or two, I scheduled a follow up with my doctor.
I still felt like crap, with a bunch of new
symptoms cropping up, like loss of appetite and difficulty concentrating.

(23:59):
He was examining me for swollen lymph nodes. Didn't find
any but he did find an unexplained lump turned out
to be a foreign body. We had it removed, and
turns out it was this shapeless metallic thingam a bob
about the size of a frozen pea. The doc said
it could have been a piece of debris that got

(24:21):
lodged beneath my skin when I totalled my truck a
while back, and then it's been wandering around my body
this whole time. I mean sure, I guess that still
didn't help me with my whatever it was that was
wrong with me. My doctor suspected I might be depressed
and gave me a script for antidepressants, and I'm mild

(24:44):
sleep aid well worth the cope. Fast forward a little
bit more, my girlfriend of three years finally moves in.
This turned out to be the best thing for my
physical and mental health. With someone else in the house
aside from cheddar, I felt safe allowing myself to get

(25:05):
a good night's sleep, and I did for a while
until the first night of daylight savings time. In retrospect,

(25:28):
all the pieces were in place for a night terror,
a real horror show. For one thing, setting the clock
forward an hour always causes my sleep cycle to go
tits up. Secondly, it was a rainy night, a slow
moving system rolled into town and began to drench everything

(25:49):
in a fifty mile radius. For the next three days,
my phone kept blowing up with flash flood warnings. On
top of all that, my girlfriend was out of town
for her sister's baby shower, so it was just me
and Cheddar alone in the house on a rainy night

(26:09):
with Papa John's and a season of Walking Dead to binge.
I was on the couch and felt myself dozing during
a particularly soap operaated episode. My eyes got heavier and heavier,
and it seemed like the moment my eyes shut.

Speaker 2 (26:33):
I was in it.

Speaker 3 (26:35):
The worst night terror of my life, if it was
really a night terror, that is, the whole couch was
floating in sort of a black void, and there were

(26:55):
five or six of those drones, you know, the night choppers,
hovering around me, each one shining a spotlight on my body.
Karen was on my chest, but now she'd mutated into
something more grotesque. She'd sprouted an asymmetrical collection of limbs,

(27:18):
and she used them to grip me tight around the
trunk one of her I guess she could call them
arms was shoved down my throat as though I was
being intubated in the hospital. She wore an unusually hateful expression,
and when she noticed me noticing her, she leaned down

(27:42):
so that her face was only an inch or two
from the tip of my nose. I was so terrified
I can't even express.

Speaker 2 (27:55):
When at some.

Speaker 3 (28:08):
Point Karen unhinged her jawl like an anaconda, and I
could see that there was a small television lodged inside
her mouth. It looked like your grandma's TV, one of
the gigantic wood cabinet kinds from the sixties or seventies,

(28:29):
but small enough to fit inside there. The picture was
staticky and distorted when the drones came one at a
time and hovered over Karen's head. Each time a new
drone flew over to Karen, it would trigger a different
face to appear on the TV screen. None of the

(28:52):
faces were human. They all had pale skin, teardrop shaped heads,
and huge black eyes, like a gray type alien. I
suppose each face would say something like your information has
been logged or we know everything about you, and then

(29:15):
before the drone would fly away to be replaced by
a new drone and a new face. The TV would
flash an image of one of my family members, a
loved one. We know where they live, one of them said,
I remember the TV flashed images of my girlfriend, my

(29:36):
mom and dad, my favorite uncle, all of my friends
even cheddar. We can visit anyone at any time.

Speaker 2 (29:46):
They said.

Speaker 3 (29:48):
And then the drones would get faster and faster and faster,
and the messages.

Speaker 2 (29:52):
Got shorter and shorter.

Speaker 3 (29:54):
Until the images on the TV inside Karen's mouth were
a blur and the messages were just a shrill noise.

Speaker 2 (30:04):
When I woke.

Speaker 3 (30:06):
Up, I was sobbing. I went back to the doctor
after that. He found something. Go ahead, take a guess
was another souvenir from my visitors with the night Choppers,

(30:27):
about the size of a frozen pea, metallic hard as
a bullet. I don't know what to say about that.
I don't sleep on rainy nights anymore. Instead, I forced
myself to stay up. Don't want to take the risk
of meeting them again. My company offered me a position

(30:50):
at one of their Arizona locations. I accepted, figured there'd
be fewer rainy nights out there. My girlfriend and I
broke things off. Turns out she didn't want to live
in the desert, didn't want to leave home. So now
it's just me and Cheddar and of course Karen Karen.

Speaker 1 (31:34):
The Titlest Tower narrated by Scott R. McKinley.

Speaker 6 (31:50):
We live in a quiet, close knit little golfing community
out in the country. Our home course weaves its way
through our community like a mighty river, but a good
portion of the back nine is on top of a hill.
A small portion of that hill, between the seventeenth green
and the fairway leading up to the eighteenth hole is

(32:12):
leased out to a big telecommunications conglomerate back east, so
they put a big cell tower there on a square
patch of grass, behind a tall chain link fence. Nobody
likes it.

Speaker 7 (32:26):
It's just a.

Speaker 6 (32:27):
Big, ugly eyesore, a tall lattice of steel, painted red
and stuffed with blinking lights. The county, the Chamber of Commerce,
and even our Hoa have all tried everything within their
power to get rid of it, but to no avail.
A lot of our members like to take swings at
it and bet money to see who in their foresome

(32:49):
can hit the tower with a long drive. Lots of
balls find their way to the tower. In fact, the
grass inside the fence is blanketed with penfolds, cows, top flights,
one or two slazengers, and lots of titleists, so many
in fact, that this cell tower has earned the nickname

(33:10):
Titleist Tower. Of course, no golfer is brave enough to
try and retrieve any of those balls. Well, not anymore.
I call it a cell tower because that's what it

(33:32):
looks like. But to the best we can figure, it's
anything but a cell tower. To start with. Cell service
sell signal and even clarity of phone calls seem to
get worse the closer you get to the tower, regardless
of who your service provider is. I know people who've

(33:52):
asked around about it, but they can never get a
straight answer. In short, no one knows what the hell
it's there for. Some of our older members are tinfoil
hat conspiracy types. They claim it's used to broadcast the
ultra low frequency signal for a number station that sends
coded messages to foreign operatives or alien invaders. Regardless of

(34:16):
what you think of these wild theories, no one can
deny the strange happenings connected with the tower. Take the
case of former member mister Eugene K. Eugene was playing
the eighteenth hole early one Sunday morning. In fact, his
party were the only golfers out that early, and his
ball landed behind the tower fence. Eugene was a stubborn gentleman,

(34:40):
reluctant to give up one of his expensive balls if
he possibly could avoid it, and so he scaled the
fence to retrieve his callaway chrome soft triple track and
to fill his pockets with any other gems he could find.
When he climbed back out, he suffered a massive stroke
the moment his feet were back on the ground. He

(35:04):
was only thirty eight years old. The stroke left him
unable to speak, and his right arm is for all
intents and purposes, now useless. After this incident, coils of
razor wire seemed to appear atop the wire fence the overnight.
Take the case of landscape technician mister Arturo D. About

(35:29):
eighteen or nineteen months following the Eugene K incident, Arturo
was seen driving an ATV out of an equipment shed
to remove some weeds growing on and around the perimeter
of the tower fence. Later that afternoon, an unexpected and
violent thunderstorm passed through the course. It didn't last long,

(35:51):
but it brought with it high winds, lightning strikes, and
damaging hail. That evening, after everyone played through, someone came
across our Turro's ATV parked near the tower. Then they
noticed Arturo's body sprawled out like a sack of dirty
laundry at the base.

Speaker 2 (36:12):
Of the tower.

Speaker 6 (36:14):
He'd been killed by a lightning strike. The guy that
found him said his body looked like a charcoal bricket.
Funny that, of all the things the lightning could have
discharged on, from the lightning rod on the tower, to

(36:37):
the steel tower itself, to the metal fence, it discharged
onto a man less than six feet tall. Another funny
thing was that no one could figure just how our
Turro had gotten inside the fence. The chain and padlock
on the gate remained undisturbed, and there was no sign

(36:57):
of him having scaled the fence somehow getting over the
razor wire. Sometime later, people notice that the grass inside
the fence was always immaculately manicured, with no weeds of
any sort sprouting up within several yards of it, and
the balls that would accumulate inside the tower's perimeter would
be spirited away after a week or so. All this

(37:21):
in spite of the fact that no one employed by
the golf course was ever allowed inside the fence to
do maintenance.

Speaker 3 (37:30):
Of any kind.

Speaker 6 (37:31):
Furthermore, no one has ever seen anyone from the telecom
going up to the tower to perform said maintenance. There's
never been any sign of them on security camera footage either. Finally,
you have the case of Aiden j and Rachel s.

(37:53):
Aiden was a junior at the local high school. Rachel
was a grandmother in a well respected real life state agent.
Nor to anyone who'd gone house hunting in the area,
neither of these persons were affiliated in any way with
the golf course or the big telecom leasing land for
the tower. Hell aside from living in the same town,

(38:16):
they weren't even affiliated with each other or to even
members of the same church. One year after arturo D
was allegedly struck by lightning, one year to the day,
Aiden and Rachel were picked up on security camera crossing
from the seventeenth Green.

Speaker 2 (38:32):
To the tower fence.

Speaker 6 (38:34):
By the way, the cameras are recording twenty four hours
a day, though no one is there watching them. Recordings
are kept in a hard drive for a month or
so before being deleted, unless there's an incident like this one,
then the recordings are pulled, reviewed and backed up. It
was late at night, around two am, and even though

(38:58):
the cameras had a cheap night capability, the picture is
hard to make out, but it appears as though the
two were holding hands as they walk. When they get
to the tower, they appear to open the gate with
bolt cutters. There's no indication of where they got the
bolt cutters, as they don't appear to be carrying any

(39:21):
tools with them. They then climb as high as they
can up the tower. Remember Rachel is a fifty seven
year old grandma, and jumped to their deaths. Hayden's body
landed on the razor wire and got ripped up pretty badly.

(39:41):
The course was closed for about a week while police
conducted a full investigation. But as you probably imagine, there's
no rhyme or reason as to what possessed these two
strangers to this horrible thing. These are just the most
dramatic stories, but I could tell you dozens of more

(40:05):
mundane stories about strange, idiosyncratic happenings around that tower. And
as for me, I'm convinced there's something off about the
damn thing. After all, my balls do have an affinity
for getting lost while playing the seventeenth and eighteen holes.

(40:25):
But I'm not too proud to take a mulligan.

Speaker 1 (40:51):
God of the Gap written especially for October pod by
John Iger, from a true story narrated by m J McAdams.

Speaker 4 (41:10):
O ed comas Test. This is Jessica and Orlando. I
don't always see your new episodes when they drop, but
I've been catching up on all the old ones on YouTube.
I have a really good story for you, and I
hope you like it or are creeped out by it
or whatever. I was reminded of it while I was

(41:36):
home for Thanksgiving and asked if I was still working
at the Gap. Actually, just to be clear, I've never
worked at the Gap. I worked at a boutique next
to the Gap in my hometown years ago. But Abolita's
memory isn't what it used to be, and anyway, I
knew what she meant. This little town I grew up

(41:59):
in I had a sort of historic downtown. The buildings
were old, and the local Chamber of Commerce tried to
make sure they were filled with cute shops. And a
bunch of Martha Stewart looking cafes. They still have an
awesome coffee shop that makes these unbelievable Natella crepes for
Sunday brunch. Anyway, that's the area where I worked. It

(42:22):
was while I was finishing the coursework from my certification
to teach K through sixth. The boutique was called Rosie's Ragpatch.
It was owned by this sweet old Bolivian couple, Ector
and Rosaria, and they ran the shop out of this
creaky old Victorian house. This old handmade jewelry and lots
of this flowery, old hippie lady fashion. I guess you

(42:45):
could call it bojo or shabby chic, but like the
old lady version of that for white people. I remember
they had this silly billboard in town. There was a
picture of some wide eyed soccer mom type lady. She's
holding a wrapped gift and the caption says, please let

(43:08):
it be from Rosie's Rag Patch. Oh. Anyway, I was
hired on shortly after there was this big fire downtown.
The fire started when lightning struck the house next door.
That house burned down and later a gap was built
on the lot. So Ala was close, but the fire

(43:33):
spread the rosies rag patch. There was a little bit
of fire damage and a lot of water damage from
where the firemen tried to put it out. So where
was I. Oh, okay, So they hired me and I
got there in June. They were in the process of
doing demo work on the damaged rooms. The worst damage

(43:57):
was in the old boiler room they had been using
as a stock room. So they knocked down this moldy
ass dry wall and ended up exposing some of the
house's original brickwork. The brick wall was as old as
the house itself. I think it was built right before
the Civil War or right after, somewhere around there in

(44:17):
the early eighteen hundreds. And the first thing anyone noticed
was this painting. It looked old too. Ektor said the
drywall had been up since the nineteen seventies, but the
painting could have easily been one hundred years old. I
snapped a picture of it and showed it to my
old youth pastor, and he said it reminded him of

(44:40):
the illustration of the devil in the Kodeks Gigas. You
should do an October pot about that. Someday I would
have scanned this picture and emailed it to you, but
I don't have it anymore. You'll understand why I got
rid of it later. Anyways, I got off track. So

(45:06):
this painting on the break was definitely a devil or
a demon or straight up satan, and it made the
thing in the Codex Gigas looked downright cute and cuddly.
It looked too well done to be graffiti, but to
crude to be the work of a trained artist. Its

(45:27):
head was like a goat or a ram, with long
curled horns. The horns had some kind of ribbed texture
with sharp points. It had the torso of a man,
a hairy man, with a symbol of some kind tattooed
on its chest. It had three arms on each side,

(45:51):
all split out, and each hand was either holding something
like a dagger or a cup or a scale, or
do some weird gesture kind of like an esoteric sign language.

Speaker 3 (46:05):
I guess.

Speaker 4 (46:07):
It had two legs. No one could make out if
the legs were supposed to be from a hooved mammal
or a dragon with heavy scales. It had three serpents
hanging from its mouth like tongues. But the thing I
remember the most The thing I'll always remember are the eyes.

(46:34):
They were so big and expressive, and the only part
of the image that used the color white, so the
whites of these huge, staring eyes seemed to glow against
the dark brick and the muddy looking paint used for
the rest of the image. Some of the girls in
the store made up a game. You stare into the

(46:56):
eyes for a certain period of time, like a minute,
and if you close your eyes, I could still see
the whites of its eyes, like one of those optical
illusions they have in kids' activity books or something. I
did it once, but I wish I hadn't. It kind

(47:19):
of burned the eyes into my memory. Another girl who
worked at the store did it, and she freaked the
hell out. She locked eyes with the thing for a minute,
like the game said to There was another girl loope
timing her and giggling the whole time. When the minute

(47:41):
was up, she closed her eyes. We expected her to say, WHOA,
that's freaky or something like that, like what we all
would have said. But no, the girl kept her eyes
closed for a long time, and then she started sobbing

(48:01):
and running around the room like she was blind. She
still had her eyes clint shut. When she opened them,
her eyeballs were solid red, like she had pink eye
or she had just been punched. She kept sobbing and
sobbing and ran to the bathroom. We heard her in
there barfing for like twenty minutes or something. Looper started

(48:25):
a rumor that the girl was Baalamic. Lupe was such
a bitch. It was around that time that we started
urging the owners to hurry up and put up the
new drywall. Ik Thod eventually covered it up with a
sheet or something, but mister Rosie kept going behind his
back and taking the sheet down. Someone asked Miss Rosie

(48:46):
why she wanted it uncovered, and she said that she
believed the devil was a god who watched over the house,
and we must treat it with respect and keep it happy.
He's the one who saved this store from that lightning
strike in the fire, while the other one next door
burned down, she would say. Once she said she suspected

(49:08):
that Nilo, that's what she started calling it, may have
conjured the lightning to ensure his face would be uncovered.
Ector seemed embarrassed by his wife's ramblings. He said that
miss Rossi had a cousin who worked in a silver
mine in Bolivia. It's very dangerous work, and the miners

(49:31):
believe that a devil or a god of the mountain
controls their fates, especially if there's a cavin or toxic fumes.
The miners have a statue of a devil at the
entrance to each mine. They leave offerings at its feet
to win its favor and protect themselves from danger. Ector
said that the devil on the wall must surely remind

(49:53):
Rossi of her cousin, and just like one of those miners,
Rossi began greeting Nilo and leaving offerings for it. Usually
it was flowers that she placed at Nilo's feet. Nilo
preferred carnations, she said. Mister Rossi would do them all

(50:13):
up in a nice vase and everything, and just leave
them there until they wilted and started to rot. Whenever
they got too stinky, Ector or somebody would throw them out.
But sometimes the same flowers sat untouched for weeks and weeks.
One time and miss Rossi baked up bandlos mortos and

(50:34):
left it as an offering. It got moldy pretty quick,
and everyone was afraid it would draw mice. Or other pests.
I'm going to tell you this next part as quickly
as I can, because I'll start to freak out if

(50:54):
I stop to think about it too long. There was
this when the store was very slow. For anyone who's
ever worked at a mom and pop business, you know
this can be a really stressful time. Ecto ren Rosi
kept hoping that someone would come in and make a
big purchase so that they could buy groceries that week.

(51:16):
I never knew if they were exaggerating or not, but
that's something I still wonder about. So miss Rosi had
a lot of time on her hands and decided to
make a big offering to Nilo. She came in one
morning with a pot of this stuff that was about
the color of fresh motor oil. She took a pastry

(51:39):
brush and started painting the wall with it, all over
Nilo's hands and feet. And then she lit a candle
it was a lavender scented candle that they sold at
the store, and placed it against the wall. All of
us girls working that they asked her about it. Mister
Rossi told us there was a rabbit. I'd been eating

(52:00):
all the cilantro she had planted in her garden. She
said she waited for it to come back and shot
it before she butchered it for a stew. She said
she bled it out in a pot and left the
blood as an offering for Nilo. And guess what. That
same afternoon, this lady came in and bought a three

(52:21):
hundred dollar coat and ordered a bunch of jewelry for
the bridesmaids to wear at their daughter's wedding. Miss Rossi
was convinced that her blood offering had pleased Nilo. Well,
my coworker Lupet didn't approve at all. She may have
been kind of a caddy bitch, but she was very religious. Well,

(52:45):
she wasn't religious enough to stop the crow game with
Nilo's eyes after the other girl freaked out, but she
was religious enough to feel as though making blood sacrifices
to it was somehow crossing a line. Lupet lost her
shit shit and kind of cussed out Miss Rosi and
stormed out without finishing her shift. I'm surprised ec Do

(53:07):
Rosi didn't fire her. She came back to work the
next day. She was on the schedule, but she acted
very weird and Mopi now I wasn't around to see
what happened, but apparently Lupe was working in the store
by herself. One day, Ector and Rossi were off running

(53:27):
errands and business was so slow at the rag Patch
that they sent the other girl home for the day. Allegedly,
Lupe closed up shop early, snuck into Nilo's room. She
threw out Miss Rosi's offerings in the dumpster, scrubbed the
blood off the wall, and painted over a Nilo with

(53:48):
a thick layer of white paint. Then she pasted pages
from a King James Bible all over the walls, kind
of like wallpaper. I always wanted to know what Miss
Rosi would have said to Loupe when she found out,
but as it turns out, Miss Dozzie never got a
chance to confront her. Lupe never made it home that night.

(54:12):
It started raining when she left the store. As she
was driving past an exit ramp to the interstate, a
SMIT truck calling about fifteen tons of smitt came down
the ramp too fast and ran into the cross traffic.
It plowed in the Loopees car, and she died instantly.

(54:40):
Now I wasn't there to see it, but the rumor
was The next morning, all the Bible pages had fallen
off the wall, as though the glue Loope had used
wasn't strong enough, but not just a page here or there,
every last page. And even though Lupe had painted over

(55:04):
Nilo with several fresh coats, the image of Nilo managed
to bleed right through it. Its eyes were just as
piercing as always. Needless to say, shit had gotten too
freaky for me, and I got another gig until I
could land the teaching job I wanted. I never found

(55:26):
out what happened to Eddor and Rossi after I left,
but I do know that the store, or rather the
house it was in, went up for market a few
months later. No one never bought it, though, because that
summer a heavy storm hit down town and lightning struck it,
and Rosie's rag patch burned to the ground. I can't

(55:51):
imagine what would have happened if I stayed longer. As
soon as Lupe died, I started having these nightmares about Nilo.
I'd see his eyes staring out at me in the
darkness as I slept. In fact, I started sleeping with
the lights on after that. There's more I could tell you,

(56:12):
but I dare not dwell on any more. Of the details.
I'm gonna have to stay up all night anyway, because
I know Nilo will haunt my dreams if I don't.
I guess that's the sacrifice I have to make.

Speaker 1 (56:50):
Monsters do have their place in the zoo, in your nightmares,
in the deep, in your favorite horror movies, not on
your phone during an ad break, Politically motivated interests are
seeking to influence you through the ads placed on this podcast. Hi,
I'm your host, Edward October, reminding you that we have

(57:14):
very limited control over the ads you hear on October Pod.
Please remember that only the ads and promos I read
with my own voice carry the endorsement of Edward October
and October Pod. Furthermore, I and the makers of October
Pod repudiate any entity advertised which seeks to promote hatred,

(57:34):
anti American or anti democratic sentiments, or the spread of misinformation.
Now with that in mind, October Pod will return after
this brief ad break. It's intermission time, folks. I'm your host,

(57:54):
mister Edward October. If you've listened to our Angel Storm episode,

(58:16):
you'll recall that I enjoy watching Night of the Living
Dead during thunderstorms. But there are plenty of great horror
pictures to throw on when the weather starts getting rough,
and so between the acts of October pot I thought
I'd give you a rundown of some of my wet
weather favorites. First up, Ring You.

Speaker 2 (58:53):
Bring You Coming to Video?

Speaker 8 (58:54):
And Davy d March fourth, two thousand and three.

Speaker 1 (59:00):
This Japanese picture upon which American remake The Ring is based,
begins with rolling waves on an inky black sea. If
that isn't a great way to start a stormy movie night,
I don't know what is. The story that follows is
a steady build up of quiet, dread and subtle idiosyncrasies

(59:21):
which may be portents of an unknowable force at work.
The investigation into the mystery of the Death Tape, a
video cassette which brings death to all who view it,
culminates on an island beset by a raging typhoon. Throw
this one in the old video machine the next time

(59:43):
thunder rumbles through and you won't be disappointed.

Speaker 8 (59:49):
I ask anyone who was brave enough to see Friday
the Thirteenth on Friday the thirteenth, and they will tell
you they were terrified, over and over and over. The
twelve Friday the thirteenth, He dare you to see this
film all over London and in the West End. Your

(01:00:10):
Friday will be the day you're brave enough to see
Friday the thirteenth Certificate X.

Speaker 1 (01:00:16):
There are two kinds of Friday the thirteenth fans, those
who are Jason people and those who are Missus Vorhee's people. Certainly,
fans of Jason outnumber those who prefer Pamela as the
big bad of the franchise. People tend to talk about
the original Friday the Thirteenth as being some sort of
inversion of Psycho. Instead of a son driven to murder

(01:00:38):
and madness by the vengeful spirit of his mother, here
we have a mother haunted by her dead son and
out for vengeance. There's plenty of commentary on Tom Savini's
practical gore effects and about all the films that Friday
the thirteenth drew influence from Twitch of the Death Nerve.

(01:00:58):
But what I like the most about the first Friday
are the quiet moments. There are lingering shots of the
water rippling on the surface of Crystal Lake and other
idyllic moments of quiet beauty around the summer camp. It's
like the calm before the storm, and then the storm

(01:01:19):
which dominates the picture's last half hits, and it brings
its own ambience, its own moments of quiet dread before
we see the glint of the knife.

Speaker 9 (01:01:32):
In nineteen fifty six, he first appeared on motion picture
screens across the country. His impact on audiences was instantaneous
and unprecedented. His acting technique was revolutionary, his presence overwhelming.
He possessed more raw talent than any performer of his generation.

(01:01:53):
He soon became an international legend, a giant who took
the world by storm. Then suddenly, at the height of
his fame.

Speaker 2 (01:02:02):
He retired from motion pictures.

Speaker 10 (01:02:07):
Now he is back, and he's more magnificent, more glamorous,
more devastating than ever.

Speaker 2 (01:02:15):
Prepare yourself.

Speaker 10 (01:02:17):
The greatest star of all has returned, Godzilla nineteen eighty five,
coming soon.

Speaker 2 (01:02:35):
To a theater near you.

Speaker 1 (01:02:37):
Nothing can match the storm or drown of a thunderstorm
quite like a lumbering Kaiju, and no Kaiju does it
better than Godzilla. When storm clouds gather, I love to
throw on the American cuts of Gujira and the Return
of Godzilla, called Godzilla, King of the Monsters, and god

(01:03:00):
Godzilla nineteen eighty five, respectively, both starring Perry Mason himself
Raymond Burr. The Japanese versions work equally well for stormy nights,
but the American cuts give me all the nostalgic feels.
My favorite part of the nineteen fifty four Godzilla are

(01:03:20):
the scenes on Odo Island, the mystery surrounding the giant footprints,
the awe, and terror as Godzilla looms higher than the
mountain top and glowers down at the fleeing islanders. And
it's all capped off by a raging storm that rips
through the island while Godzilla wades over it, further cementing

(01:03:42):
this Kaiju's role as a vengeful revenant who lays to
waste the works of man as surely and as suddenly
as a massive hurricane. Godzilla nineteen eighty five slash. The
Return of Godzilla begins with a storm its and with
Godzilla emerging from his slumber like an erupting volcano.

Speaker 2 (01:04:06):
The film isn't.

Speaker 4 (01:04:07):
Responding at all.

Speaker 1 (01:04:08):
She's gonna run aground.

Speaker 7 (01:04:11):
You have a maro, you got a moro?

Speaker 8 (01:04:13):
May day, Maeni, Hey do you read me homework?

Speaker 6 (01:04:15):
Now we're running around.

Speaker 1 (01:04:30):
Speaking of volcanoes. Izu Oshima, home of the volcano Mountain Mihara,
is a pivotal location in both Ringu and Return of Godzilla.
The rest of Godzilla's nineteen eighties debut film is a
slow burn of quick glimpses and encounters of growing intensity,

(01:04:53):
culminating in the final climactic city rampage. Even though there
isn't a storm in this picture aside from the opening scene,
it's the perfect movie for a stormy night. I can't
quite explain it, but Godzilla in both of these pictures
is the storm. He's the black cloud that gathers on

(01:05:16):
the horizon. In fact, that's the quality that these films
all share. That's the kind of picture I enjoy most
on stormy nights, the slow burn pictures, the ones that
gather like darkening clouds on the horizon before unleashing their
fury in.

Speaker 2 (01:05:36):
The final act.

Speaker 1 (01:05:42):
Have I gotten too carried away? I suppose I have.
Are there any horror movies for stormy nights that I've missed?
Tell me your favorites in the comments or on social media.
I hope this little intermission has given you an opportunity
to lie some more candles. Because the rain and wind

(01:06:03):
and thunder aren't letting up anytime soon. Let's get back
to the scary stories. Act two of October Pod starts
now in Gaujee We Trust, a true story narrated by

(01:06:30):
Edward October. Dear October Pod. When I was in high school,
I used to live with my mom and an old
farm house. It was built in eighteen sixty seven. It

(01:06:52):
was old as fucking creepy. It wasn't a huge house,
but it seemed big on the inside because of the
high ceilings. Everything was made of wood, so you are
always hearing creaking noises and timbers settling. We didn't farm,
We just lived in the farmhouse, so there was all
this empty, unused farm land all around us, and the

(01:07:13):
closest neighbor was easily a five minute drive down an
old country road. My mom was a nurse, so she
was always away working a night shift. This left me
home all by myself most nights. One night I was
home alone during a rain storm. We still had rabbit
ears out there in the middle of nowhere, so we

(01:07:34):
couldn't get any channels on the TV during bad weather.
We had just gotten a Nintendo. When I was up
late playing contra.

Speaker 3 (01:07:43):
Some time. After two in the morning, I started to
hear scratching noises outside the house. We had cats and
dogs at the time, and there were always other animals
about causing trouble. I just figured it was one of
the cats or a raccoon or something messing around in
the porch. Like I said, we were used to that
sort of thing, so it didn't alarm me. Well. I

(01:08:04):
dozed off on the couch after getting stuck on one
of the levels of contra. I died like a million times.
When I woke up around four in the morning, I
got up and started turning off the lights and getting
ready for bed. I went to the kitchen to get
myself a glass of water and looked out the window
above the sink. Through the window, I had a clear

(01:08:26):
view of the old shed we used to store the
lawnmower and some other junk. There was a big dusk
to dawn light mounted above the door of the shed.
Standing under that light was something that looked to me
like a gorilla. It was still pouring down rain and
its fur was soaked with water. It was holding something.

(01:08:53):
I stared at it for a full minute without turning
off the kitchen tap. Then I realized it wasn't a gorilla.
It was a person wearing a gorilla suit. The thing
it was holding was a machete. Well, I just abounced
on my pants right there. I rubbed my eyes, and

(01:09:15):
when I opened my eyes, the man in the gorilla
suit was gone. That dusk to dawn light was so
bright that it lit up most of the front yard.
So there's no way this guy could have ducked out
of the light. And the second or two I had
my eyes closed, so I figured I had just imagined
it and went to bed. I know stupid, right, I

(01:09:39):
slept with all the lights on in my room. When
I saw Mom the next morning, she asked me what
had happened last night. She said that a bear or
something had carved up the house. I went outside, and
sure enough, there were scratch marks and cuts on the
outside of the house. Mom had written it off as

(01:09:59):
a bear or something, and I would have too, But
on the back porch, right near the door, someone had
carved the word in gotcha. I looked it up in
some African languages, it's supposed to mean gorilla. We filed

(01:10:24):
a police report, but they never found out who did it.
My brother was an Angler, A true story narrated by
Paige Elmore, creator a host of Reverie True Crime.

Speaker 11 (01:10:41):
My older brother loved to go out fishing just about
every weekend, rain or shine. We lived out in the
middle of nowhere with nothing to do. He could drive
and I couldn't, so sometimes I just go along with
him as an excuse to get out of the house.
Mama and Daddy used to get on my damn nerves.

(01:11:01):
When I was thirteen fourteen. One weekend we were out
and west. That's my brother was fishing this creek, not
far from where the creek emptied into the lake. The
clouds were black and the wind picked up. Pretty soon
it started to thunder and we started to pack it
in for the day. We could see clear out to
the far end of the lake and this little dirt

(01:11:23):
road that went winding along the shoreline. Pretty soon we
see an old beater of a pickup truck come rolling
along that dirt road. The storm picked up fast, and
lightning struck a tree that fell over into the road.
That old truck swerved but didn't really have anywhere to
go and ended up slamming into the tree. Not five

(01:11:46):
seconds passed before we see flames leaking up from under
the hood of the truck. So we throw our gear
into our truck and drive out there as fast as
we can to see if this guy needs help. We
hauled ass over the looking for a downed tree and
a flaming truck, but we didn't see a thing, no truck,

(01:12:06):
no flames, not even a tree in the road.

Speaker 12 (01:12:10):
Nothing.

Speaker 11 (01:12:11):
Then the rain came and it rained so hard we
thought that little dirt road would be washed out. On
our way back home, West stopped at a little bait
shop a couple of miles from the lake and told
the owner what we'd seen. The old guy just laughed
and said, oh, you saw Herb. Back in nineteen seventy seven.

(01:12:33):
Old Herb was driving around the lake in a storm.
Lightning struck a tree and wrecked him, pinning him in
the truck. The truck burned up with him in it
before anybody ever found him. Every now and then, whenever
it storms on the lake, nice folks like you might
see him. I guess Herb never wants to be forgotten.

Speaker 3 (01:13:00):
Overpod. I've been involved with creating and selling art for
the last thirty years. In that time, I've never encountered
a haunted house. But I have experiences with a haunted painting.
Let me tell you about it.

Speaker 1 (01:13:16):
He smiles when we blaspheme. Narrated by Edward October.

Speaker 3 (01:13:22):
For many years I ran a gallery for local artists.
I called it a gallery, but it was really a
shop where one could buy what I call arts and craps.
The creators artisans whose work I sold were only moderately gifted. Still,

(01:13:43):
the shop was profitable enough for a time. During that time,
I would sometimes acquire antiques and other pieces through estate sales.
That's how the painting came into my possession. A title,
or what I presume to be the title, was penciled
on the back of the canvas. He smiles when we blaspheme.

(01:14:08):
This initially seems a strange title for the painting, as
it is a still life of various objects arranged fetishistically
on a rough wooden table draped with fabric in a
muted shade of purple. It's not immediately apparent who he is,

(01:14:30):
as the viewers, presented with a bowl of overripe fruit,
are mostly spent unlit candle gwilted flowers in a reflective
metal vase, A scarab crawling on the face and a dead,
limp necked guinea fowl waiting to be dressed. It's a

(01:14:51):
savagely candid, yet inept work of outsider art, a work
which pairs a laundry list of traditional vanitas imagery with
a style dominated by sharp, compartmentalized geometry and a muted
institutional color palette. If brutalist architecture had spawned a genre

(01:15:16):
of painting, this canvas would encapsulate the movement. In short,
it was ugly. Still, who was he? And what did
any of this nonsense have to do with blasphemy? Closer,
the harsh lines of the composition draw the eye to

(01:15:37):
a reflection on the convex surface of the vase. Here
the viewer finds the distorted reflection of a smiling man.
When I first saw him, I assumed this was the
art OF's self portrait, But on further reflection, I don't
think so. The features are too vague for self portrait.

(01:16:00):
Appearance and demeanor are utterly devoid of humor or cheekiness.
To say that the man in the reflection appears to
have ill intent would be understating the point. This smiling
man is the face of evil. When your gaze meets his,
you immediately look over your shoulder, as though the vase

(01:16:23):
is reflecting the room behind you. It's a creepy effect.
Regardless of my feelings on the canvass, and fell to
me to find a buyer. I hung it in the

(01:16:44):
back of my shop in an ill lit corner, keeping
it separate from the rest of my stock. Few ventured
back there to inspect it, and no one expressed much
interest in buying it, even at a steep discount. One day, Raymond,
a friend from art school, came into the shop. He

(01:17:06):
just bought a house in the area and was looking
to purchase a few pieces to.

Speaker 2 (01:17:10):
Warm up the home a bit.

Speaker 3 (01:17:13):
From the moment he walked in, his gaze seemed to
be drawn too. He smiles when we blaspheen. He told
me he needed to have it, and I realized that
I'd be overjoyed to be rid of it. I washed
my hands and thought I'd never see it again. I

(01:17:33):
was wrong. About a month later, it was around Christmas time,
Raymond invited me to dine with him and his family
at his new home. Now I live in a fairly
rural area of Western I'm un accustomed to seeing fine

(01:17:55):
houses out here in the wild. However, I was genuinely
pressed to see Raymond's home, a smart, two story Tudor
style house that wood cannot be out of place in
an affluent suburb of Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, but which seemed
positively alien here. Raymond's wife prepared a lovely supper lamb

(01:18:19):
with time gravy underdone to perfection, and they paired it
with a lovely local red that I meant to buy
a case of later I never did. After dinner, Raymond's
eight year old daughter wanted to give me a tour
of the house. Of course, much of the tour focused

(01:18:40):
on the child's room, with special attention given to her dollhouse.
At the end of her tour, we reached a dark
room at the back corner of the house. An old
shade tree stood just a few feet from the window,
and I imagined that very little sunlight ever finds its
way through that window. A Florida ceiling bookcase dominated one wall.

(01:19:05):
There was a well loved arm chair in one corner,
walled in with stacks of books on art and design
and typography. There was a desk loaded with computer equipment,
and on the wall above the desk towered. He smiles
when we Blasphien all evening. I wondered what had become

(01:19:32):
of the awful canvas, and here it hung, staring down
at me. I didn't like it at all. It distressed me. Still,
I tried to be cheerful and asked Raymond's daughter, this
was mommy or Daddy's office. Her face darkened and she

(01:19:55):
shook her head. She aimed a finger at the canvas
and said, no, this is the reverend's office. There are
bad people here. What bad people, I asked, The people
who ruin my dreams? They come and go through here.

(01:20:21):
Just then Raymond called us up for dessert. Well, all
this unsettled me. As I've said, I set out on
a study to discover who the artist.

Speaker 2 (01:20:43):
But he smiles to the Reverend.

Speaker 3 (01:20:46):
Benley Jackson Boggas born nineteen twenty two, exact date of
death unknown, age seventy four years. Much of what is
known about this man has faded into urban folklore and
local superstition. My research found this. Take it with a

(01:21:09):
grain of salt if you like. Merverin Bargas was a
fire and brimstone preacher known for hot sermon featuring lurid
and grotesque descriptions of hell and damnation, screaming sinners thrown.

Speaker 2 (01:21:26):
Into the lake of fire, etc.

Speaker 3 (01:21:28):
Et cetera. He preached that message for so long that
he realized he had more faith in evil than in good.
Legend has it that the reverend renounced God and rededicated
his life to Satan. Here's where the details become extremely vague.

(01:21:51):
He resigned his post with the church and got work
painting houses and doing odd jobs. Again, not much is
known about this period of his life. We know he
produced paintings and other pieces of art after leaving the church.
At first I thought of tracking down more of his work,

(01:22:14):
but given my suspicions about he smiles when we blasphemed,
I decided against it. We know that he was arrested twice,
one for vandalism and one for criminal trespass. Little is
known about the trespassing charge. There are stories of him

(01:22:35):
breaking into graveyards, but not much else. The vandalism arrest
is juicier and has become the stuff of a legend. Apparently,
the former Reverend Bogus broke into his former church and

(01:22:59):
began painting the sanctuary black. He fouled the altar with
the blood and scat of animals, and left an offering
a jar of urine and a jar of human hair
and teeth on the altar in place of the cross
he'd tol one of his paintings. People say he was

(01:23:22):
preparing to celebrate a solitary black mass when the police
found him. During this period of petty crime, Bogus produced
most of his art and wrote down some pretty unsettling
thoughts in his extensive journals. One journal described his own

(01:23:42):
blueprint of Hell, with vague instructions on opening its gates.
He died sometime in nineteen ninety six. As I said,
the exact date and circumstances of his death are unknown.

Speaker 2 (01:23:59):
This is due to a fire.

Speaker 3 (01:24:01):
That destroyed several boxes of county records in nineteen ninety eight.
But when he did die, he became a local legend,
a boogeyman whose deeds were at the heart of every
campfire tale told by the locals. I was ready to
call Raymond and share with him my research, perhaps convince

(01:24:25):
him to get rid of Bargas's canvas, but I never
got the opportunity. Instead, I received some tragic moons I
called Raymond's home, but to no avail. The number had
been disconnected. I learned that Raymond went missing shortly after

(01:24:46):
my visit. When his car was found three weeks later
at the bottom of a lake. The authorities were quick
to pronounce him dead with the Noah body. He was
never recovered. Some nights, I'll drive past that lake and

(01:25:09):
half expect Raymond to emerge, wet and filthy from its
inky depths. Raymond's wife was forced to put the house
on the market. She and the little girl moved to
another state to live with relatives. Call it coincidence, Call

(01:25:32):
it what you will. It is my contention that Raymond
and his family experienced nothing but tragedy after hanging that
damned canvas. It's evil entered their lives and spread like cancer.
Don't believe me. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince

(01:25:57):
much Later, about eighteen months, I received a parcel in
the mail. It was from Raymond's wife. She said she
was returning to me the last of Raymond's valuable possessions
they'd been unable to sell. It was he smiles when

(01:26:17):
we blaspheen. That very evening, I swung by the home
depot and bought several cans of lighter fluid. I took
the haunted canvas down to the parking lot of an
abandoned hosiery mill and torched the damned thing. Thick red

(01:26:38):
black ropes of blood streamed from it as it burned.
She smiles when we blaspheened.

Speaker 1 (01:27:04):
I think fishing is barbaric by John Iiger, inspired by
true Events Near rated by Emma co host of Spine
Chillers and Serial Killers.

Speaker 13 (01:27:21):
I think fishing is barbaric. Let's just get that out
of the way first. I've been a vegan for five years,
but for most of my life, my views and my
diet were very different. Perhaps this experience I'm going to
tell you about helped me start on a path through
a vegan lifestyle. My husband's dotty cousin, Mark, owned a

(01:27:41):
cabin on the shores of a very tiny, very remote
lake in the Dordoine Valley. Every July, Margwood invites us
down for a fly fishing holiday with him at his
cabin deep in the wilderness of France. I, of course,
wasn't keen on fishing. Why enjoyed the change of scene
in the fresh air, which was in short supply. Back

(01:28:02):
in Leeds. Every morning, just before dawn, my husband would
disappear with Mark to fish some remote spot that only
Mark knew of, places where the fishing was just fab
I'd stay behind, sleep late, catch upon my reading, and
sometimes go bathing in the crystal clear water of the lake.
It was a truly relaxing holiday, luxurious even because Mark

(01:28:26):
always kept the cabin stock with fresh bread and even
more bottles of local wine than one could drink in
a week, even for a Frenchman. The men would often
return in time for lunch, often with the capture of
the day to fry up. But the last time we
holidayed at Mark's cabin, something very weird happened. Yes, from

(01:28:52):
the moment of our arrival, Mark could be talking about
a very special hole to fish that he'd just discovered
at the mouth of a small cave. A splunker friend
of Mark's had explored the cave and claimed to have
found cave drawings in it, which makes sense as there
are plenty of Neanderthal cave drawings to be found in
the Dordoin Valley. Whenever I tell this story to Americans,

(01:29:13):
they find it hard to believe, but living in Europe,
it's not uncommon to find druidic stones in one's backyard
or pictish relics in the garden. Mark's story about the
cave drawings had peaked my curiosity, and I fancied having
a look at it, So on our first evening at
the cabin we all hiked out there. I must say
I was a bit disappointed. In my mind, I'd constructed

(01:29:36):
an image of this cave as looking like something out
of a movie, a vast, dawning chasm from which dragons
or trolls might emerge. It was, in reality just a
pitiful hole in the ground, several pacers from the lake shore,
half obscured by tangled weeds. I could scarcely believe a
man could fit inside, let alone find anything of interest

(01:29:58):
in it. But even though the this cave looked thoroughly unimpressive,
I must admit it had an effect on me. There
was an eerie stillness about the place, the feeling you
get standing in a graveyard. Of course, the boys weren't
interested in any of that. They were more interested in
what was going on in the water, and had already

(01:30:18):
planned to try their hand fishing this hidden little spot
in the morning. Still, I had an uneasy feeling about
the whole thing, and on the hike back I told
them I thought they should fish somewhere else, a suggestion
that fell on deaf ears. The next morning, they disappeared
with their rods as usual, but returned just before noon
empty handed and crestfallen. In spite of ideal fishing conditions,

(01:30:47):
they hadn't managed to get so much as a nibble.
This confounded them because when we'd hiked out to the cave,
the fish were practically hopping out of the water. A
drenching rain system moved in when they returned to the cave,
which did nothing for their mood. My husband had a
little too much to drink with dinner and told me
that I might have been onto something, you know, about

(01:31:09):
there being an eerie quality to the place. They went
out fishing again the next morning, but weren't gone long. Now,
what's happened? I asked them. Mark began telling me the tale,
but only spoke to me in very rapid French something
about dead fish in the water. My husband told me
that they returned to the spot by the cave and

(01:31:29):
found that the water was full of dead fish, but
that wasn't the strange part, and he showed me photos
he'd taken with his phone. None of the fish, and
I'm talking about dozens hundreds of fish had heads. They
were floating on top of the water and washed up
on the banks of the lake, just the stinking, fly

(01:31:50):
infested mass of headless fish. The heads had been taken
clean off, not bitten off by predators, sliced off with
so precision on the heads. Hundreds of heads were no
where to be found.

Speaker 3 (01:32:12):
We played this game on one occasion. At the time,
we were calling it roadkill Roulette because we figured roadkill
is about the only thing we'd find playing it.

Speaker 2 (01:32:22):
By God, I wish that was true.

Speaker 1 (01:32:27):
Roadkill Roulette narrated by Edward October from my radio play
by John Iger, inspired by true events.

Speaker 3 (01:32:45):
If somebody is telling me this story for the first time,
I don't think i'd believe it myself. But if you
doubt what I'm about to tell you, I will send
you a signed affidavit from my buddy Campbell Bogas, who
was there with me at the time. The other day
a couple weeks go, I guess it's about two or
three weeks ago. I've been in some YouTube videos about

(01:33:05):
people using this Random Nautica app and finding all kind
of weird stuff had got me thinking about how when
I was a lot younger, like four smartphones and all that,
we had our own low tech ways of getting into
weird adventures. I think I can safely say that me
and my buddy Campbell were like early random Knots, maybe

(01:33:26):
retro random knots, paleo random Knots. We grew up in
the Holler. I suspect you did, too, ed, and we
didn't have a whole lot to keep us entertained. We
didn't even have cable. We only got three channels on
the TV, so we had to be a whole lot more.
I guess you'd say imaginative to entertain ourselves. Wild turkey

(01:33:48):
and BlackBerry shine was often the answer, but we weren't into
all that. We were usually too broke for Casinnatti light
and underaged. Boot Cammel and I drive around town his
dad's old Chevy and justmostly talking about cars and dreaming
about women, like that old song says. Sometimes on the
weekends we head over to the main branch of the
public library and go through the discard box looking to

(01:34:10):
find some Stephen King's or Tom Clancy's, maybe some comics.
One day I scored a well, it was like a
book of magic, you know, spells and potions and stuff. Now,
we're a deeply religious community, and this wasn't long after
the days when churches were burning scary stories of telling
the dark along with white zombie CDs were being too satanic.

(01:34:31):
So a book like this it'd be extremely hard for
us to come by. Honestly, I can't imagine whether the
library to have a book like that on their shelves. Anyway,
it was marked up with handwritten notes and scribbles, like
one of my Nana's recipe books. On the last page
I found some faded handwritten instructions the spell of Finding,
and it started with a silly poem. Ye shall find

(01:34:53):
what ye seek, be it angel, demon or foe, if
you follow these words I have written below your intentions
on the dried hide of a deer, and burn it immediately.
Gather the ashes in your hands and rub them on
a bird of praise bones. Toss the bones and read
the signs they'll take you to watch you seek. Note
advanced spell, do not attempt without a knowledge of the

(01:35:16):
mystic arts and sorcery. Me and Campbell got awful tickled
reading what must have been the gramblings of some crackpot.
But we were bored and curious, and we didn't have
deer hide or bird bones, but we did have a pen,
an old notebook, and a quarter. What we didn't have
was a clear idea of what we were seeking. We
thought for a minute, and Campbell started grinning. He tore

(01:35:38):
out a shooting notebook paper and wrote down, I seek
a gorgeous redhead. We giggled for a minute. Campbell had
a thing for Angie Everhart, ever since he saw her
in Bordella with blood mustard into that tape once a month.
Then I flicked the lighter and burnt a page, watched
it burn, and then we rubbed the ashes all over
my lucky quarter. We made a set of rules. Original

(01:36:00):
spell wanted us throw bones and listen to them whatever
that meant. What we came up with was we'd start
driving and flip the coin. Whenever we hit a four
way intersection. Heads we'd go left, tails would go right.
If we drop the coin or anything like that, we
just keep going straight. So we hopped back in the
chevy and took off up a road with Campbell driving

(01:36:21):
and me flipping. We're going along for a while, and
ended up way outside of town pretty quick. We got
so damn lost, we can believe it. Driving through country
we'd never seen before, end up on some dirt road
way down in Unicoy County, Cousin. That road got narrower
and narrower until it stopped at a cattle guard in
front of a green metal fence and a bunch of

(01:36:43):
post of property signs. The coin flips are telling us
to go on through the metal fence. So young and
stupid as we were, we've parked that Chevy truck and
continued on foot. It was in the fall of the year,
and we left town about three in the afternoon. The
time we made it this far, it was getting on
about supper time, the sky was overcasts. We couldn't hardly

(01:37:05):
tell how low the sun was in the sky. Campbell
liked a night hunt, so he always had a couple
of wheatlights in the truck with him. A wheatlight is
a type of light you'd use for mining. There's a
heavy battery packet you strapped to a belt with a
corded headlamp attached. So he strapped on our wheatlights. Hopped
that fence head up through the grassy field. There's a

(01:37:28):
clear trail to follow, and if it ever seemed to
fork off in anyway, we'd flip a coin. Now this
grassy field, put it up against a patch a thick
brush and a tree line, and the trail cut right
up into the woods. We got a few paces inside
the tree line, and then we both stopped at about
the same time, noticing how unnaturally quiet it was, And

(01:37:50):
just at the top of the next rise we saw her.
We couldn't make out her face or nothing, but she
had long red hair that was tangled and matted with leaves.
She's wearing a white sun dress on an evening that
was way too chilly for sundresses. The hem of her
skirt looked torn at the bottom, and one of the
straps just kind of hung off the right shoulder. One

(01:38:13):
of us, I believe it it must have been Campbell,
hollered at her and she ran. We took off after
and followed her up the hill until she and I
swear on a stack of bibles. It's true she vanished,
just poof gone, but now it's full dark. If she
hadn't been wearing white, there'd been no way we could

(01:38:33):
have followed her even with our lights on. We went
digging around to the last spot where we saw her standing,
and I caught sight of something kind of shiny, buried
beneath some leaves. Is an old hand saw. The handle
was rotten and the blade was rusty and smeared with
something that looked like blood, bright red, but kind of
dark brown, like the color of blood when it dries.

Speaker 2 (01:38:56):
Was it blood? I don't know.

Speaker 3 (01:38:58):
I didn't want to find out, though. We decided it's
time to go, and we lit out of there quick.
I can't tell you how we found our way back
to the truck. We drove the backwoods, finding road signs
people weren't carrying smartphones with GPS back in those days,
until we found State of Franklin and drove straight back
into town. We didn't speak of it for about a week,

(01:39:19):
and we didn't run tell anybody else about it either,
who'd have believed us. The next Saturday, I brought it
up to Campbell. I'm pretty sure that we both thought
we'd seen a ghost or our eyes that played tricks
on us. But the longer I thought about it and
prayed on it, the more, I realized that girl must
have been real, and if she was, didn't we have

(01:39:39):
an obligation and a civil duty to help her. I
suggested that we talked to Campbell's aunt, who worked as
a secretary down at the Sheriff's office, but Campbell said
they'd just as likely say we dreamed it up. Hell,
we might have gotten in trouble for trespacing. But I
eventually wore them down and convinced him to go looking
for What can I say, when you're young, you just
don't think right. We brought some supply Isa's time backpacked

(01:40:01):
with some food and water, two wheat lights, a compass,
two knives, and Campbell's rifle, plenty of ammunition. We had
a notion that if somebody called the law on us
for trespassing, we'd be able to say we were just
out squirrel hunting or something that would at least sound
a lot less crazy than saying we were out ghost hunting.
This time, we were able to drive back by memory.

(01:40:23):
We had a vague notion of how to get there
from a highway and a few wrong turns. Notwithstanding, we
ended up at that old metal fence well before sundown.
Once we started walking through the woods. We relied on
the quarter again to guide us to the redhead. That
led us straight to the same rusty old hansaw on
the hill, and then right on cue she appeared. I

(01:40:46):
don't know if she was standing closer or if we
could see better in the daylight, but either way we
could see just how messed up she was. Her arm
where the dress was torn, was twisted at a sick angle.
Her feet were bare and bloody. Her bangs covered her eyes,
but her lips were cut and swollen. We couldn't see
her eyes, but we knew she was watching us. Then

(01:41:08):
we heard this weak voice, sounding like a dead cat
being dragged through the gravel.

Speaker 6 (01:41:14):
Why aren't you helping me?

Speaker 3 (01:41:17):
Then she took off running. She had us weaving between
trees even as we ran. After a shouting forward to stop,
she just kept running. At one point I was close
enough to reach out a hand to stop her, but
my ankle caught on something and I went flying forwards,
hit the ground so hard I spittin' up leaves, and
of course she was gone again. I looked down at

(01:41:38):
what I'd tripped on, and it was a purse. It
had been unzipped and emptied and the strap had snapped.
I'm not sure if I broke the strap when I tripped,
or if it had always been like that. Kim Will
come over and sat next to me long enough for
us to drink some water and decide whether or not
i'd sprain my ankle. I hadn't long enough for the
sun to sink down behind the tree line. I'd say

(01:41:59):
we had about five ten minutes of twilight before it
got completely dark. When we stood back up, we took
one glance back into the woods, and here she was again.
She is standing closer to us than ever before. She
is just about on top of us, in fact, close
enough to make out her face if it weren't hidden
behind a hank of red hair. Soon as we saw her,

(01:42:21):
she turned away and began walking into the brush. We
didn't fall her, because I suppose we'd figured out there's
no catching her. She looked over her shoulder at us
and spoke in a small, gravelly voice.

Speaker 4 (01:42:34):
I'm right here, Why aren't you elrn.

Speaker 3 (01:42:41):
Now we started following close behind her. She didn't run
this time, she just kind of limped at a steady pace.
The girl stopped with her back against the trunk of
a rotted out old hickor tree. Then without a sound,
she threw her head back with her mouth gaped open
wide like in a silent scream, and then poof, gome

(01:43:04):
just go home. When me and Kimball went home that night,
I think we'd made sort of an unspoken agreement not
to speak of this ever again, not to each other,
and not to anybody else. And that's what we did.
And tell maybe about a week or two after Thanksgiving
that year, kim come over to my house and took
me to my bedroom and shut the door. He had

(01:43:26):
a copy of the Johnson City Press under his arm.

Speaker 2 (01:43:28):
He opened it up to a.

Speaker 3 (01:43:29):
Page with a story about a body being found in
a shallow grave on a trail in Unicoy County. There's
a picture of state troopers digging around the base of
an old hickory tree, and paper said that the remains
were believed to be those of Jeanie Kirkland, aged seventeen,
of Elizabethton, who'd gone missing after a high school football game.

(01:43:50):
The body had been dismembered, and medical examiners estimated she'd
been dead since late September, not long after she went missing.
There was another picture it was a senior class photo.
The photo was black and white, but anybody could tell
not because of the freckles, but this girl had gorgeous

(01:44:11):
red hair. She was wearing her varsity cheerleading uniform. I
felt something like a lead weight pressing down on my chest.
Campbell looked at me, and the ie thumped the picture,
and then he said, this is her.

Speaker 1 (01:44:27):
Isn't stick around after the credits for a brief word

(01:44:48):
from some of our fellow indie podcasters, creators and friends.
There may even be some bloopers, outtakes, and bonus content
as well.

Speaker 2 (01:44:57):
You have been.

Speaker 1 (01:44:58):
Listening to October. Octoberpod is produced, edited and directed by
Edward October. The series co producers are m J McAdams
and Amber Jordan. Logo and banner graphics by Jessica Good
Edward October. Character design by Nick Calavera. Select still photography
courtesy of unsplashed dot com. Select music cues by Doctor

(01:45:21):
dream Chip and various other stock music and sound effects
courtesy of freesound dot Org. Music from Bigfoot Apocalypse and
Thorax theme from Octoberpod composed by Nico Vittasi. All other images,
music and FX cues except where noted are sourced from
within the public domain. Follow us on YouTube at Octoberpod,

(01:45:43):
home video, on Instagram and the app I Still Call,
Twitter at OCTOBERPODVHS, and on TikTok and Blue Sky at Octoberpod.
Or find us and all of our links on the
world wide Web at octoberpodvhs dot com. For business inquiries
or story submissions, email Octoberpod at gmail dot com. If

(01:46:06):
you enjoyed this program, we'd be very pleased if you
told your friends about us, and while you're aded, write
us a five star or equivalent review. Wherever you were listening,
the man who spoke to you was mister Edward October.

Speaker 12 (01:46:29):
Hi. I'm Kayla and my co host Lexi and I
host a podcast called A Little Wicked. We discussed true
crime cases along with cults, conspiracy theories, cryptids, and really
anything that we find strange or interesting to share with
you guys. You can find us on Apple, Spotify, and
anywhere else you listen to podcasts.

Speaker 14 (01:46:47):
First impressions can take only six seconds to make, but
if you're neurodivergent, those quick judgments about you can be misleading.

Speaker 3 (01:46:54):
Because of most people's ignorance around learning disabilities, people think
it means you'll intellectually incapable.

Speaker 4 (01:47:01):
I'm not rain Man. Every Latasic person is in rain Man.
I thought I was talking to people who understood displax
and ADHD, but they did not.

Speaker 11 (01:47:11):
They freaked out, and we're like, well, if you've got
to rest, if it's going to be a problem, then
we can just FA you and get someone else.

Speaker 14 (01:47:17):
I'm Carolyn Keel and I host Beyond six Seconds, a
podcast where neurodivergent people share their lives and advocacy.

Speaker 4 (01:47:25):
One of my goals is making autism not something gets scary.
I really want to help people understand this proxy a
little bit better.

Speaker 14 (01:47:35):
Get the real life of threats NDROM out there.

Speaker 15 (01:47:37):
Stop thinking we are nothing but a joke.

Speaker 14 (01:47:39):
Let's shatter misconceptions and celebrate neurodiversity together. Listen at Beyond
six seconds dot net or wherever you get your podcasts.

Speaker 7 (01:47:47):
Welcome to brew Crime, a true crime at beer podcast.

Speaker 15 (01:47:50):
This is a podcast where we pick a theme, cover
a few cases, and pair them with craft beer. Join me,
Mike and me JT.

Speaker 7 (01:47:58):
As we explore the world of crime, spies, or whatever
catches our attention. You can find us on social media
at brew Crime or our website brewcrime dot com and
you can find us on any podcast app at breucrime Podcast.

Speaker 15 (01:48:09):
Join us as we discuss the horrible crimes that surround
us and maybe probably nah, definitely tip a bottle or
two back as you do it. Drink with us the
second and last Tuesday of every month.

Speaker 1 (01:48:24):
Oh hello there, I'm Edward October, creator, host of octoberpod Am,
the retro horror podcast for bold individualists. I'm here at
the October pod Ranch where we are just finishing up
our latest ghost story party, and I'd like to raise

(01:48:45):
a glass to Family Plot Podcast on the occasion of
their two hundred and fiftieth episode. Many happy returns. Oh

(01:49:07):
my god, is that a lawnmower? Or is that the
last shipment of cocaine from Pablo Escobar. Well, I was
working on my farm about nineteen eighty two, pulling up
some corn, and a little carried two tulow fly and
aeroplanes about one hundred feet high started drumming bales or

(01:49:30):
something sawthing hit me in the Uh.

Speaker 2 (01:49:34):
Gotta record content.

Speaker 1 (01:49:35):
We need content, motherfucker.

Speaker 3 (01:49:39):
Clip Friday the thirteenth, So I opened up them bales
and man was I surprised a bunch of large white
baggies with big white rocks inside.

Speaker 1 (01:49:50):
I took a little sample to my crazy brother Joe.
He snorted up and clicked his heels, said, hoarding that
some blow. Baal's a cocaine falling like now. Bales of
cocaine falling from low flying planes. I don't know who
done dropped them, but I think I'm just the same,

(01:50:10):
bales of cocaine falling like the pouring rain. My life
changed completely by them. Low flying plans still going. So
I loaded up them bales in my pick them up truck,
headed west for Dallas, where I would try my luck.
I didn't have a notion if I could sell them there.

(01:50:34):
Twenty minutes later I was a millionaire. Bales of cocaine
falling from low flying planes. I don't know who doesn't
drop to them, but I think I'm just the same
bales of cocaine falling like the pouring rain. My life
changed completely by them low flying planes. This one on.

(01:51:02):
Throw this one in the old video machine. The next
time thunder rumbles through, throw this one on. Throw this
one in the video Throw this one in the video
machine the next time thumble still well, now I am

(01:51:22):
a rich man, but I'm still a farmer too, went
Opera on the last verse. So I sold my farm
in Texas motiform, not in Peru. And when I get

(01:51:44):
so homesick, I think I'll go insane.

Speaker 2 (01:51:52):
Insane.

Speaker 1 (01:51:55):
I travel back to Texas in a low flying plane.
All right, fuck it, we're gonna do it live. You're
gonna hear, you're gonna hear, you're gonna hear this goddamn
fucking ship. Fucking fuck your mother fucking lawnmower Sessna airplane

(01:52:18):
in the background. It's just doing donuts over my head.
Whatever the fuck?

Speaker 16 (01:52:32):
M hm hm you mean mean me? You mean no, no,

(01:53:41):
you you mean you mean mean.

Speaker 17 (01:54:05):
Us? No, n.

Speaker 16 (01:54:44):
You n me really new a ye

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