Listener Tales 109: 80's Tales!

It is 1980s edition, what was life like in the 80s?

“The oldest I was was five in my life, so I think my life was probably pretty sick.”

Yeah, I don't think I was with the band at that time, but probably not. Well, you don't know, you might have been a cool, like rocker, a cool band. We were both born at the end of a decade. I was born in the middle of a decade. Okay, whatever, if you round up, it was almost over.

You're 1985. I was thinking of myself mostly as 1996, and I was at the end of a decade. I said, I want to take this journey with you, but... You were born towards the end of a decade. In the middle.

Well, no, 'cause you're December. You're a smack dab in the middle.

You're December, so it's basically the end of the year.

Yeah, what I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm over it. What were you saying about Nicola? I was like, "All right, Alaska." All right, Alaska. That was great.

What were you saying about Nicola's? Oh, I was saying, "I bet Nicola's is going to feel fancy free." Yeah, because I have this feeling in my bones. That Nicola's is like an 1880's kind of good. You decide, 1880's or 1980's?

Yeah. In the future, he just said, "Why did that work so perfectly?" I wasn't ready for such a swift response. Wow. He's real.

Nicola's. Nicola's real, you guys. If you lived in the '80's, like the 19 ones to be specific in the 1980's, how did you live like this? My hair is destroyed.

I tease so much of it that I should. Thank you.

It's actually kind of falling because I got hot.

That's my question.

“When you guys got hot in the '80's, like, did your tease just fall?”

No, because you would use an entire bottle of Aquinet. Yeah, see, I didn't have Aquinet, but I did use a shit ton of hair spray. Yeah, you do a whole bottle would probably be used. Oh, my God. You could literally like shoot an arrow at somebody's hair.

And it wouldn't penetrate. Wow. That's crazy. In radio was big in the 19's. Oh, and then video killed the radio star.

Exactly. Yeah. Nicola's, he got this. He's into it. He's on theme to this.

See, I don't think I would have done that great in the '80's, because I don't feel very pretty right now. I think you look gorgeous. I think you would have thank you. I think you would have slayed the house down boots in the '80's.

Thank you.

Like, this is, like, a little.

Remember when I dressed as Miranda Priest, and I was like, oh, like, I think I was like, like this. I think this might be what you are. Yeah. I think if I was like old enough to exist.

Yeah. Like, be like a teenager. Yeah. You would have been unstoppable. Thank you.

Unstoppable. Wrong decade, I guess. I know. I'd be a little earlier. You're still pretty unstoppable.

You're just dressed up. Thank you. Just a little. Just a little. Just to be honest.

Just to be honest. Well, I was going to say you could, you could wear those pieces separately. Yeah. And I'd play something to be quite honest. The pants.

The pants are like butter. Yeah. They look nice. They're very comfortable. You could wear those to a ghost concept.

Funny story to John was opening the mail. And he opened all the separate pieces of this. And he just sent me a picture of it while we were upstairs working. And he said, what's this about? And I was like, oh, like, and I said, what it was?

And I was like, and he was like, to be honest, I wasn't sure if you were just buying a lot of clothes. Like, he was like, he was like the only thing that threw me off was the bodily crew t-shirt. That'll do it.

“That was the only thing that he was like, what's that about?”

I was so sad. I had like a really 80s. Like, corset thing. But it was going to be this would have been marked not saying we were going to do a lot of them. My titties were like my chin.

I was like, I could not go on the internet like that. Good for you though, man. Yeah. Good for you for having boobs up to your chin. I mean, it's not comfortable.

So right now they're sitting nice in the middle. Get to the tail. Let's see how it goes through the tail. You know what? Cause this is brought to you.

Bye you for you from you and all about you. Did that. What did they say in the 80s? What were like the, I was like, let's get to the tails. But wait, I have more questions.

Cool. Rad. Rad. Yeah. Rad, dude.

Dude. What did they say? Wow. What did they say? I was five.

Yeah. Can I please have a juice? What did they say? I was five. Yeah.

Can I please have a juice? What did you say? What did you people say? Same. What did your people say?

Did they say tubular? Probably. Maybe. Righteous. Righteous.

All right. I just wanted to know. Have we met?

See, Nicholas is like, this sounds familiar.

He's like, wait, you guys look familiar. He said, righteous. Totally righteous. That could also be from the 1880s. He's feeling very different when.

It's a very different kind of righteous. I don't think Nicholas. I feel like he wouldn't have been with the righteous. I don't think so. He would have been with that guy.

“But maybe that's why he was like, have we met?”

Oh, are we on the plane? He was like, because I'm going to run. Yeah. All right. We'll learn more about Nicholas as we go.

As we go. It's a learning exercise. What is it? Do you want to go first? Sure.

I feel like you do. Yeah. Always. I do. Let's start with listener tales.

A ghost slept with my grandma. That's a good place to start. I might take this jacket off soon. We could buy a most wedding. I would take this jacket off.

But again, we'd be marked on the way for work. Hello, spooky ladies. My name is Brian. Feel free to use it. And any other names ahead.

Hi, Brian. And I'd love to share the story of the haunted house I lived in as a toddler. But of course, I have to start off by joining the course of praise for the podcast. Thank you. I've been a listener for a few years.

“And looking forward to the next episode of a two pada is still just as exciting as the early days.”

Oh. You both managed to stay so genuine to yourselves, despite how giant the mighty morbid empire has grown. And I wish you all the success in the world. It's really nice. It's like really nice, Brian. Oh, really nice.

Thank you, Brian. Elena, you're becoming an author. Partly inspired me to tiptoe into the field of creative writing. Yeah, Brian, let's go. Let's go running into the field of creative writing.

It's wonderful. Wow. I encourage you. Finally writing down this listener tale. I've been sitting on feels like a great way to start.

Hell yeah. And I'll absolutely need a change of clothes if you ever end up reading this on the pod. We'll give you a second to get a change of clothes. Ready, go. Right, just clothes.

We'll be feeling comfortable in very cool. And that said, in very run. That said, enough with the flattery and onto the tail. So a little background to start. I grew up in a medium-sized short town in New Jersey.

I thought he said I grew up in a medium-sized shoe town, a medium-sized shoe town. Picture basics of burbia with strip malls, cookie cutter houses, constant traffic, but a 15 minute bike ride to the ocean. Most of the details in the story take place while my dad was growing up in the 80s. He was the 80s man.

I always think of that though the blue episode when he said it was the 80s.

He's grown up in the 80s. When the town was a lot smaller in the community, a bit closer. The haunted house in question was in fact my dad's childhood home. My grandparents raised their family in that house. They had three sons and a daughter, plus care of their nieces and nephew for a total of eight in the small house.

That's a lot of fucking kids. I only have very vague memories of that place. Like the pinball machine in the basement hell, yeah. And our dog at the time, Misty. Oh no.

But otherwise, I was too young to remember any of the freaky things that happened there. This story was told to be my my grandma, who I'll call Nan. Probably when I was still a little too young to hear it. And I'm doing my best to recount it here. Also very relevant to the story.

Nan considers herself to be a witch, Nan. Hell yeah. That's her term, not mine. I would find clairvoyant or perceptive to be more accurate. For example, she knew the moment her sister had died in an accident long before being notified.

Oh fuck. And she always knows if she's being lied to, same damn. I even tested her once and she correctly guessed a coin flip. Enough times in a road, it convinced me that she really could sense it. Damn.

I consider her a reliable source.

And she had her first experience in the house the day they moved in.

Oh, I didn't even let you rest. After getting the keys to their new house and doing a walk through the recently finished basement, my grandma got an intense chill and saw an apparition of an older man with gray hair, a checkered or plaid shirt and jeans. Hate that.

Right when you get the keys and are doing the walk through and it's like hey, so you're doing the walk through and you're like this looks good. And you're like does he come with it? Or you're like can he go? Are you guys taking him?

He wasn't in the piano.

“Yeah, like do you have to pay extra for him or are we going to?”

We're solid. Can we sign something that says he stays? Oh, you want him to stay? Yeah, let's like, but I'm staying. Okay.

He's his business. I mean, he was probably there first. Exactly. She didn't describe it as a menacing presence. Okay.

All right. But she ran upstairs to get my grandpa for help. Yeah. Naturally after going back down, the apparition was gone. But there was a persistent and strong smell of dry dog food coming from one of the rooms.

Yeah. This was writing up to be a leftover or odor from the previous owners, which would dissipate in time. Oh, my god. If the previous owners of my home left, it's smelling like dry dog food.

That would be rough. I would call someone. Yeah. I would call the authorities. The rest of the move in one fine with about half of the basement becoming bedrooms

And the other half as a recroom slash concert space for the family band.

Awesome. Okay. Rock on. Hell yeah.

“Still, though, my grandma felt uncomfortable being down there alone.”

Oh, blimmer. Yeah. Now the presence in the house affected each member of the house in different ways. Some certainly more severely than others. My aunt, for example, would complain about hearing a metal on metal banging noise in the middle of the night.

I hate that. She also cried fire one night after seeing smoke drifting into not out of the vent in her ceiling. There was an accident. I need you to know that I thought he meant she cried fire. And I was like, what the fuck?

I mean, just about casually. And he just was like, she added that one time fire. It was crazy. I was like, what? That's handling it differently.

Yeah. That's really different. Yeah. That's a lot. My dad remembers one night.

They had a party with all their friends downstairs listening to the band play during a snowstorm. The band TM, you know, the band. After a few too many drinks, my dad ended up getting sick and the upstairs band. And it was gone for a while. He rallied like a true 80s teenager.

Hell yeah.

“And when he got out, he heard their unrecorded original songs coming from the basement.”

But when he opened the door to rejoin the party, the lights were off and it was empty. The party had ended abruptly as the storm was getting worse and everyone went home while he was upstairs. What the hell? There was no explanation for the music he heard. That's pirating.

And it's all it's unrecorded too. Yeah. I don't know about that. Everyone would hear footsteps. Doors would slam.

The dog food smell never did go away.

Oh, that would piss me off. But nothing truly felt scary yet. That feels scary too. That was into my uncle woke up. Unable to breathe one night.

That's scary. But he remembers feeling held down and strangled. Struggling to break free and being unable to cry for help. Whatever it was that held over him. Released when the family came in after hearing the commotion.

After the escalation and feeling genuinely unsafe in the home. Nan sought the help of a medium. According to her, this was the fourth most powerful medium in the country. God. In parentheses, our mediums ranked.

I always question this detail. Who knows? I don't know that either. But they agreed to come inspect the house. This medium could sense the presence of a spirit.

A previous owner of the home still lingering.

They also found out that there was a motherfucking vortex in the basement of the house. Not a vortex. As in my old house was a subway platform for all things spooky to come and go. And what advice did Mr. Super medium give? Not much you can do.

Burn some sage and hope for the best. At least they're generally harmless. Are they generally harmless in a vortex? You can't be sure. Yeah.

They can't be sure. That's like the escape here mansion. There's a vortex in the basement. Yeah, because somebody broke the rules. Yeah.

Nan was satisfied enough with the vortex situation. Rancing did stop the more violent behavior. But the resident spirit was more concerning to her. While going through the attic, she came across a box of paperwork left behind. It belonged to the original owner of the home.

It was mostly a tack document, tack documents, and such. But to her shock, there was also an old photograph. In black and white, it showed a man with gray hair, flannel shirt, and jeans. Picture alongside a faithful looking golden retriever.

Oh, as I'm sure you've guessed the man in the photo was the apparition. Nan saw the day she moved into the house. Nearly armed with the original owner's name. I'm going to call him old Joe. I love it.

“I think that's the perfect name for him, and I appreciate that.”

Yeah. In a picture of her ghost, she was able to reach out to one of old Joe's surviving relatives. That's also. After meeting this relative, Nan learned that old Joe was a blacksmith in town and lived there with his beloved dog until the day he died in the house.

Wait, what if the person not got strangled to her uncle? What if that was just the dog laying on him? Because I know you feel strangled in the night when your dogs... I do. Like lay on you.

Sometimes dogs do strangle you and you're asleep. No, intentionally they love you. They're just big. Yeah. There's a golden retriever.

That's a big dog. So maybe you was just laying on your uncle? Yeah. But in the school. Not wanting to look crazy, though.

Nan shows not to mention that her grandpa old Joe is kicking around. Not wanting to look crazy. Nan shows not to mention that her grandpa old Joe was kicking around. But instead, thanked her for her story and left her the documents and photograph. Knowing the story behind her spectral cohabitant and that he was really just looking

out for the family in the house. The smells, metal-hitting metal sounds. He was a blacksmith after all. Oh yeah. We're all just residual hauntings from old Joe's time in the house.

That wasn't till old Joe made a move on Nan. He said, "Nan, no, me." Now we're familiar. Somewhat absent from the story so far has been my grandpa.

All.

“Gramps worked two jobs to support the family.”

Leaving the house at 2.30 a.m. To go spackle houses before clocking in for his shift at the railroad at 11 a.m. Getting home around 8 at night. He's a hard worker. Usually Nan told me he would sleep like a rock.

But oftentimes, he would roll over and bed and she would end up getting crushed and pushing him back over. Not at all something I wanted to picture Nan. One morning, she said she was woken up by this 5m feeling, but was alarmed by the time. It was about 3 a.m.

Witching our aside, this meant Gramps had overslept and was late for work. Instantly alert, she turned over to wake him up and rush him through his morning routine, but found that she was in that alone. My God. Old Joe snuck into bed with Nan and was starting to get all up close and personal and she was

not having it. Oh, it's Mr. Steel girl. Old Joe. Old Joe out here. Old Joe's Mr. Steel girl.

That was the straw that broke the cable's back. Nan could tolerate cabinets slamming shut. She could tolerate unexplained noises. She could tolerate her nephew getting choked out of this sleep. But she would not abide by a non-corporial cuddle buddy.

That's fair. That morning, Nan contacted her pastor to come exercise the house. A bit to her dismay. She learned that Baptists don't do exercises. But to put her mind in ease, he would be happy to come over and pray in each room and bless

the house.

That doesn't always work.

Reportedly, this seemed to do the trick and all paranormal activity stopped for the remaining years they lived in the house. Yeah. I will not yell. It's not like going nuts.

It's very 80s. It's very 80s. Shout out. Let it all out. Oh my god, do you also love tears for fears?

We love tears for fears.

“Do you also think they have Bangor after Bangor after Bangor after Bangor?”

So I'd be telling everybody this. I agree. Nicholas has heard me. I love tears for fears. So this includes my two-year stint there.

I was brought home from the hospital in that house. And we moved out when I was very young. It was the day that we moved out of the house that it showed its face again. After the final sweep of moving day, the doors inside could be heard slamming, as we said, our grandmas and left.

Oh, they were upset. You were going. Yeah. Or they were like good riddance. One of the two.

One of them. No. As I mentioned, Nan told me the story when I was in middle school. And while it had me freaked out a bit at first, I'm no stranger to a ghost story.

And having no first-hand experiences with it myself, I never really believed it.

That wasn't until I got to high school. And my English teacher happened to be a childhood friend of my dad's small town person. First week of school, she told me how many great memories she had youth group with your dad and uncle.

“Summers in your grandparents' pool and the ghost that lived in the house.”

Information. It wasn't until years after being told the story that I had it corroborated with someone outside my immediate family, unprompted. And felt like the whole town knew about the ghost in my own house. And with consistent accounts from everyone I've asked, I'm convinced that my child's been almost haunted by a perviel, blacksmith named Old Joe. I'm convinced too.

So that's the story. If you read this far, then I don't feel bad for not apologizing for the leg, they're never apologizing. Never apologizing. I know you ladies wouldn't have edited any whom now. I do apologize for any ramblings or grammatical errors, though.

Please keep you keeping it real alongside that with a healthy dose of weirdness forever. Spooky Brian. And I love PS attached to photo of a little baby me with our Dalmatian Misty from when I lived in the house. She was a sweet dog, but dumb enough to eat an entire loaf of bread. Bag, twist, tie, and all.

Brian, that was a great story. I loved your perviel, blacksmith. I'm old Joe. I love Mr. Stilio girl. I do appreciate it.

Nicholas is expressing that too. Nicholas liked it. Okay, tell number two. Richard Remira has doubled down on visiting my parent's window. Oh, it was the 80's.

It was the 80's. And my parents were living in LA unrelated, but coincidentally quite close to the lobby on the house. Oh, my dad was a mild mannered professional by day. By night, played drums in a rock band multiple times a week. Hell yeah, rock on.

The coolest families in these 80's tales. It was funny. Everybody was cooler. My mom would often go to gigs with him. But on this night, she was hanging at home and decided to head to bed before he was back.

The weather was warm and she decided to get some breeze flowing into their second story apartment window through their bedroom window.

Don't do that. Which was under the old old school ones that slid up and didn't have a screen. Oh, there were windows without screens back then. So who need the screen? What the fuck?

He was in first hearing this story. I asked her why she felt compelled to do that. And she just dragged and said, it was the 80's. My dad was still out and she was drifting off to sleep as she was. She heard a mild commotion in the tree right outside their window.

I don't ever want to hear a tree commotion. Not even a mild one. None of the above. Yeah.

She didn't pay much attention at first.

But then it started getting loud. I know. Way too loud to be an animal. And another what the fuck were you thinking move? She got out of bed and peered over the window sill.

There, she saw a mop of black hair making its way through the branches. And if the person, it belonged to took one more step or two up, they'd be faced to face. No. I would get a pan and whack 'em all. Yeah.

I'd grab like a weight. Wack 'em. Just drop. Get out of my tree. In wild but fortunate timing.

My dad was just getting home. And the hall light in him asking what in the world his wife was doing. Sent the new mysterious creep shimming right up into the tree away into the night.

“And settling his hell, but probably an isolated event, right?”

Yeah. No. No. Within the next week or two he or a week or so he came back.

Both of my parents were home this time.

And clearly didn't heed their previous experience. Guys. Because that window was open again. I will note that this was during the time Richard Ramirez was just starting out. His horrendous mayhem.

And sparking only potential serial killer buzz. So I guess between that and the 80s of it all. I'll give them a teeny bit of a pass. I love it. It's like he wasn't sparking intense serial killer vibes.

Just like there's light serial killer. If there's even a whisper. A serial killer vibes. I'm getting a full like like purge style. Yeah.

Like press a button. Then I'm in like a metal box 100%. I actually would like access to that. Oh yeah. Whenever I've seen that movie, I'm like how do I get that?

How do I get that? I know. So we're giving them a pass. Well, you are. You are.

I'm not. Leaves wrestled branches crunched. That same dude was absolutely in the tree. And they were catching glimpses of his face along with that familiar hair. Oh, that gross face.

My dad, who even, I know, honestly. Even back in his heyday was not exactly a terror inducing individual. Brandished. It's good. Brandished.

A vacuum. A vacuum.

“Honestly, that might be good because it's so shocking.”

Like, you wouldn't think that's that vacuum. So you're just like, this guy's crazy. It might stop you with a vacuum. It might stop you with a vacuum. It might stop you with a truck.

That's fair. Yeah. Then you wrote, yes, really. Yeah. And held it like a bat.

Wacking it out the window and yelling, hey, get out of here. Good for him. Better than nothing, I guess. But you think the man would be more strapped than that. You'd think the man would be more strapped than a Hoover.

He defends it was the closest thing with some move to it, K-dad. So again, the element of surprise dashed in the man took off. This time, my parents called the police. They arrived, took statements, and noted they'd do a sweep of the neighborhood. Nothing resulted from that.

But the tree saw no more nighttime visitors. Fast forward to the day where Trevor Miras was arrested. And of course, his image was everywhere on TV. So my parents looked at each other wide eyed and said, almost in unison, that was him. Now, my parents are long since divorced and didn't agree about much for years.

But when I recently regaled my dad with memories of this tale from my mom,

he was finishing sentences and noted it was something he'd never forgot.

Damn. My beloved mom unfortunately died last year. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Gone way too soon.

But I know she would have gotten a kick out of having this story shared on the podcast. She was a true crime and dark history gal through and through. And we would spend many in our chatting about different stories and trading podcasts and documentary recommendations. Miss you, the most mom. I'm including a picture of me and her for you ladies to see, along with a few of my dog,

who technically has nothing to do with the story, but everything to do with everything. And isn't she an angel face? Thanks for reading and keep it weird, Erica. Oh my god. That is a beautiful photo.

And that dress, first of all, your dress is gorgeous. And your mom's dress is so pretty. Your mom in that pixie cut is a sleigh bitch. And your hair on your wedding day. Yeah.

Oh, I love that pixie. Oh, and your dog does have everything to do with everything. It does. It's a little ton. He has everything to do with everything.

This episode is actually brought to you by her dog. Yes. I love that. Absolutely. Ah, that was a crazy fucking story though.

No, I hate that he was coming to you. And what kills me is that he saw the husband. Yeah. Got freaked out by the husband showing up. But then came back knowing he would be there.

And he did that several times. No, but that's the thing about him. That's why he was so scary. Because there was just nothing. There was no women.

Yeah.

“And remember people said his breath smelled like wet leather.”

Yeah. He loved candy. Thank you. He loved candy. He did.

Did he like a lot of candy. I was just in the way you said you're like, he loved candy. He loved this. Like the worst thing about this. But because it's like that man loved a lollipop.

Because pictures or mirrors eating like cabbage. I have no skin. Honestly, that's the scariest thing you have ever.

I just pictured that.

Just nomin on the cabbage.

He would. He had like sharp teeth. I just... Oh. I mean it.

Why not see that guy.

“You just created the most unsettling visual in my mind.”

Oh, no. Somebody make that picture. Oh, no man. I meant sourbatch candy. I was like were you saying cabbage?

She was like, I don't think he was eating cabbage. That was part of his problem. He needed some cabbage. Oh, man. Oh, my God.

All right. So this next one is the story of a house in which a friend showed him. Get out. He's in your bedroom. And a tater taught love and ghost meet up for one hell of an 80's mash up.

One of these things is not like the other. What a fucking title. He's in your bedroom.

And a tater taught love and ghost.

Yeah. That's going to be me when I'm a ghost. I was literally just going to say I thought love and so heavy with a tater taught. Hell yeah. And a sweet potato tater taught.

Oh, yeah. That chips. It really does. All right. It's get tater taught for lunch.

Yeah. Period. Period. First. But first.

First, I will gush.

“As have many before me that you two are absolute unicorns.”

Thank you. Thank you. I really want a unicorn. Oh, is that? Thank you.

Thank you.

I don't know just came to me.

I like that. Thank you. I really appreciate the compassion and carry you. Put into each story. I feel that the victims are treated with respect and dignity and that your research is taught.

And hell yeah. Yeah. Dave. Doves. Thank you for being you Elena.

If I wasn't old as fuck. I would swear that you are my long lost sister because we think a lot of like. Anywho, keep doing what you awesome humans do. I have been listening for about three months and I'm already on episode two, 19. I'm obsessed.

If you choose to read my story, I've changed the names and I'm providing a pseudonym for myself. What happened in the 80s? Stays in the 80s. What's the thing that Debbie said the other day? A pen to plume.

Oh yeah. I love that. A nom to plume. Nom to plume. I knew it wasn't like that.

I like nom to plume. Nom to plume. The scene is 1982. I'm in college. Yeah.

The beginning. The beginning of a decade.

“She knows where things lie at the decade.”

Don't worry about numbers. The scene is 1982. I'm in college and want nothing more than to not have to live at home. And my small ass watched the paint dry town during the summer. Some friends were renting a house for the summer on the outskirts of our college town.

Somewhere in Central Illinois. And I was all in. We envisioned a summer fun and mayhem by living on the outskirts of town. We could be as loud as we wanted and not bother townie neighbors. We of course did not think about the fact that if no one could hear us.

We might be excellent targets for humans who were up to no good. Yeah. And that later. So imagine 1982. Neither of you are born yet.

I'm old as fuck. You're not that old. Yeah. The hair spray alone in the bathroom of that house could kill you. If the hair did self didn't poke an eye out.

See. Ah. I was more of a punk myself. Hell yeah you were. But we had a whole spike and we had the whole spike thing going on.

So you know, still lethal weapon type stuff. Oh you know those like liberty spikes. Oh yeah. Those are so cool. Those are cool.

One night we threw a particularly hilarious and chaotic party that involved many of the things that the 80s are known for. I kid you not that at that party. Someone took a mirror off our living room wall and made it snow. It really was a great time to grow up before we knew how bad many of these things were for us.

And to have very little safety instructions other than to naughty candy that wasn't wrapped on Halloween. More cabbage potchkins. No don't he goes. Don't do that. Oh no.

Oh no. The old is using the computer. I don't make it. Oh no. Hold on.

The youngest struggling team. I was born in the middle of a decade. The youngest and so young anymore. The youngest approach you get there. He's hello.

Oh look at that. I can see. Yeah. I get so much better. It's like it.

I don't know. You can't really flip it by my eye. That's it. That's the style. It's like last night. Oh, that's good. That's good. That's good. That's good. That's good. By three or four a we all crashed in our various rooms and the party goers had gone home since I had not listened to your podcast yet because you were not born and I'm

Where even the mosquitoes were too scorched to do more than look at us. So yeah, all our windows were wide open. We had screens to keep out the bugs. So we reasoned that was good enough. Oh, they have screens. Yeah, they have screens. I should give you the layout of the house. There were three of us legally living there. The house was an old farmhouse with two stories.

All the bedrooms or upstairs. Two people shared one room at the left of the stairs. One person had the room to the right and I had the room in the middle back to that night.

I'm awakened by my roommate, Kyla yelling at me. Get out, get out. He's in your bedroom. You better get out. Get out. He's right now. Like if I hear that, I'm just going into straight-up party. Where do you go to? He's in your bedroom. I sleepily jerk away and look around. It's pitch dark because country. And I can't see a thing. My heart is pounding in my throat and I feel like I'm going to faint. I'm desperately thinking that I might run into whoever is trying to get me if I just barrel on out of there.

Then my amygdala sucker punches my front lobes and says, "Run mother fucker run." I should mention that my amygdala is aided by my friend, still shrieking at the bottom of the stairs. Run dumb ass. He has a knife and I saw him go in there. Oh my god. What? Why is your hand? What are you doing? What is anybody doing? I sprint down the stairs faster than you same bolt, who also wasn't born yet. I have an old fun goodness.

“You need to be nicer to yourself. I love you a lot. I join my roommates on the front lawn who are discussing having heard and seen not one but two men in our house.”

No. Another roommate Maggie says that she was awakened by the sound of someone climbing through the window at the bottom of the stairs.

I hate this a lot. She then heard them walking around the house opening drawers and such. She thought she had heard them throwing something out of the window.

Was it Tatertots? I'm waiting for the Tatertots to arrive because I'm stressed. No. It's scary. Maggie thought she should act all like she was asleep and she should act all asleep. She was just rubbing us and wouldn't sleep. Things changed for her because honestly as they say if they come during the day they're here for their stuff if they're kind of here for the night that really fucked up. If they're here during the day they're here for your stuff. If they're here at night they're here for you. They say that. That's what my old criminal justice professor used to tell me and I hung on to it because think about it.

No, I think you have some in the middle of the night trying to steal your stuff you're there. I don't like it. Middle the day they're coming to get your shit. I have an alarm system. Middle the night. Pew.

Oh, you scared those dogs? Yeah. You're those dogs. Dolores will chop your head also.

“Things changed for her when she heard them clumping towards the stairs.”

We were lucky to have a phone extension upstairs so she quietly called the police. She then waited until the humans, the humans went into my room ran across the hall and got the other two rooms and they high-tailed it downstairs with Kyla calling up as aforementioned. So she waited until they went to your room. Hey, you got to--

Are you still friends with them? You got to play with them. She yelled for you. The police showed up and went through the house. The screen in the window at the bottom of the stairs had either been cut or pushed in

and the back door was open. The police figured that the humans ran down the stairs after I boogieed and left through the back door while we were waiting for the police in the front yard. God. Many things had been moved and a few drawers were open but nothing was missing. The book is over there for you.

Yeah.

“The police tried to calm us down but they didn't really have an answer for us when we asked if they weren't here to burglars, then what did they want?”

They didn't want to see you. The answer to that question was sitting like a stone in the bottom of my stomach. What would have happened if my room had not been awakened? We wouldn't be reading this. We remained terrified for a long time afterwards that these guys might come back to finish whatever

Fiendish and evil deeds they had planned for us that evening. I don't think I could have stayed in that house. I know.

I don't blame you for staying there because obviously you don't always have options.

I think I just drive around until more than that. Literally, I think I would become nocturnal. We did not sleep well and started closing the windows downstairs at least. It was upstairs windows also for dead people. Discuss.

Yeah. I literally set this to my grandmother the other day. I was like, people have ladders. And we just read a story about Richard Ramirez climbing up a tree. Exactly.

They want you. They're going to get you. Yeah. The next weekend everyone but me was going out of town. I was freaked.

I invited all of my friends, especially my guy friends, to come stay at the house that weekend. Until my friends arrived, I sat staring at the window and the door to the basement, expecting them to open at any time. Well, with a knife-wielding maniac jumping out at me. I knew the basement did not figure into this story, but basements are creepy as fuck. So at a principal, I stared at that son of a bitch also.

My friends finally arrived and we got through the weekend.

“One problem with this situation is that one of my friends was so weird and probably on an acid trip that I was most likely more in danger from him than whatever else was out there.”

Damn. Needless to say, I made it through the weekend. Just forward to about two weeks later. We were having a hectic morning jostling around each other as we each got ready for respective works and classes. Maggie comes into the kitchen where the rest of us are.

Maggie is all pissed off. Maggie ran a little grumpy anyway, so she was just shrugged and continued what we were doing. She says, "Who did it?" And we say, "What?" And she says, "Who ate my fucking tater tots?"

Ooh, that's a crime. Now for more recent times, I would have said Napoleon Dynamite in it. And she would have thrown something at me. In 1982, I said Maggie no one ate your damn tater tots. Everyone shrugged and went life went on, although taughtless for Maggie, which she continued to gripe about. That's fair.

A few days later, Maggie was added again. She said, "Where's my lasagna?" Again, she's met with blank looks from all of us. We're not above eating each other's food, but not this time. I began wondering if we had a ghost or a poltergeist. I have been a weird, weirdos spooky bitch in my entire life, so it was a logical explanation for me.

It was logical to me. Me too. Once again, I was afraid of my own house. A few days after the lasagna incident, some people came over who we sort of know. It made me think of shit. I don't even know my own kid. I afraid of my own house. I also like the lasagna incident.

“They said they had been at a party where these two guys were talking about getting really drunk a few weeks back”

and blacking out than what waking up to find a bag of tater tots and a pan of lasagna sitting on their kitchen table. They said they had no idea where these items had come from. They came to your house to take your tater tots in your lasagna. Our friends asked them if they had been at a party at our address.

They said no, but that they used to live at our house. The friends asked them if by any chance they might have gone to our house and their blackout state thinking they still lived there. One of the guys said he thought he remembered climbing through a window and running down a street.

How do you think you remember that? I've never done that. Maybe I ran down the street after I climbed through. What? The more they talked, they pieced together what happened.

Oh my god. The guys were smashed. Thought they still lived at our house. Couldn't get in the front door. So did the next logical thing and broke through the screen on the window.

They then stumbled around the house running into furniture that wasn't where they thought it should be. They were hungry so they looked in the fridge. It's like, because it's miscelled as the fridge. So they looked at the front of me.

No, maybe loved to. Finding not much weren't there due to the party animals eating everything that wasn't still crawling. The fridge was empty. Oh, but the freezer contains some collectible items.

They threw set items out the window. What Maggie heard. Ran upstairs, who knows why. We're freaked out to see people were there. Ran down stairs out the back door.

Somehow they retrieved the tots and the lasagna along the way. Quite a feat for smashed college students. No ghosts, no murders. Just drunk guys out of their minds and craving a good taught. Wow.

Maggie never did apologize for blaming us.

We continued the 80s keeping it weird at all times. Violet. Wow. That was that. I love how it came full circle though.

It's so 80s. It really was. So they just came back to a house they thought they lived. That feels like a movie. I'm obsessed with that.

Those of you. But that must have been nice to find out in a weird way. Because you were probably not afraid of your house. No murders. No polter guys.

No polter guys.

“But then you have to worry about these households getting drunk again.”

And thinking they lived there. I know. That's a little scary. That is a little scary. You're not worried.

You live like right on your hand or something. And also Maggie. Get it together. Yeah. Maggie.

That's sad. Matt or Maggie sad. Yeah. Maggie's sad. She said sad way of living to be to run grumpy.

To run grumpy.

To never apologize for it.

I don't apologize a lot. But I do what I mean. You do apologize if you're grumpy. Yeah. All right.

This one is called Spirit at the salon. Hi, actually. No, this is Rob. Hi, Rob. I want to share a more light-hearted story about a positive ghostly experience that helped

me understand myself a bit better. Well, names and specifics have been changed because toxic masculinity is a thing. Sure is. In the town where I grew up. I would often spend afternoon hanging out at my aunt's beauty salon down the street from

the school while I waited for my mom to get home from work. I love that so much. When I tell you it was the 80s. When you walked into this salon, you knew it. It would green cabinets and drawers.

Pink painted walls. Oh, yeah. shiny when nolem tile. Pink vinyl covered chairs. Oh, my god.

Those retro salon decals on the walls.

I do. Yep.

“The smell of perm solution soaked into every surface.”

I hated perm week at school. And a whole row of dry roads along the sidewalk. Yes. Most of them usually occupied by the regular. He's getting their weekly roller set.

Very steel magnolia. I love that movie. Drink the juice. Shelby. I had spent afternoons in the waiting room fighting the kind of extreme boredom.

But only a small child with more than 10 minutes of occupied time can feel.

I colored read the same for comic books on the rack that never changed.

An entertain the old ladies who always told me I reminded them of their grandsons. Hell yeah, Rob. And eventually my aunt put a broom in my hands and set me to work. Getting that sweet free child labor out of me. One winter day when it was dark and this lawn was closed.

I was waiting for my aunt to clean up and take me home. I glanced at the picture window, which in darkness had become a big black mirror framed with frost around the edges. Despite this along being empty other than my aunt in the back room. In the windows reflection, I saw a lady sitting in one of the dryer chairs.

“She had her hair in rollers and was draped in the salon's standard issue pink vinyl cape.”

Confused, knowing this lawn was closed, I turned around. And there was no one there. Oh, I love her. What a ghost. Forever getting her hair done. Forever doing self care.

Oh my god. Forever. She probably very warm with her. I thought about telling my aunt, but I didn't want to say anything because I clearly just saw a ghost and saying it out loud would make that real.

Very fair. I saw this lady more and more over the next few years.

She was always on the same dryer chair.

Always only in the windows reflection after close. I eventually got the courage to bring it up to my aunt. But she has always been a very stirring woman who never tolerated any shenanigans, mischief, Tom Fulery or monkey shines. Yeah.

I never heard of monkey shines. I couldn't live that way. No. Not tolerating any shenanigans, mischief, Tom Fulery or monkey shines. Yeah, that's nuts.

I'm all about that. I'm all about that. I love Tom Fulery. That's my little name. She told me Ash, Tom Fulery Kelly.

She told me it was just my imagination. And he handed me some towels to fold.

“The lost count of the number of towels I folded at my life.”

But same. When you're in a apprentice, all you do is wash wash, dry, dry, dry, dry. Laundry, laundry, laundry, fold, fold, fold. And then you pay some parking tickets. Damn.

Oh. Now, as I grew up in no longer needed a babysitter, I still visited the salon regularly. Partly because I enjoyed the compliments that came along with being the resident handyman, more free labor. But mostly because I enjoyed flirting with the cute girls who would come in to get their hair done. And fellas, if a girl flirt with you while she's got a head full of pearl rods and wearing a pink salon cape, then you know she trusts you.

I had stopped out. I had stopped seeing the ghost lady and had mostly forgotten about the whole thing. But fast forward a few years and I'm home on break from college. I'm on an nostalgia tour around town and I stopped in this salon to say hi. At one point, I glanced at the big picture window and had a flash of remembrance.

Thinking of the ghost lady for the first time since I was little. I don't know where the idea came from, but I thought maybe I'd join that lady for all time's sake. That's adorable. My God. I don't know what was more embarrassing for me.

Asking my aunt to set my hair in rollers or knowing that I was doing it for a ghost. We'd love that you literally did this for the ghost lady. I'm so stupid. It's so sweet that you just felt compelled to do that. I love this.

I love this. She showed herself to the right person. Yeah, she did. She was so excited to do my hair. I'd been growing it out since college and she clearly wanted to get her hands on it for quite a while. Soon enough, I was feeling awkward with my hair and curlers wearing a pink cape of my own.

And I sat myself down under the dryer right next to where the ghost lady always sat.

I'm going to cry. I have a joke. I'm actually going to cry. Yeah, I love this. I started asking your questions.

I had years of experience talking to this lawn lady. So I knew what they like to talk about. I asked her about where she grew up, her family, her pets, crafts, and hobbies that she liked. I never heard any answers. Not that I could hear anything because those dryers are wowed as fuck.

Am I right? I know they are pretty loveful. But as I talked, sitting in silence between questions to give her time to answer, I felt a growing sense of peace and tranquility. I love this.

I can only describe it as the feeling you get when you're alone in nature, quietly enjoying the view during a very pleasant walk. I don't know if this lady ever was really there. Or if my keeping her company was helpful to her, just weird in any way. But it certainly was helpful to mine.

And as an aside, my hair looked incredible. Ladies, if you haven't tried an old school ruler set, you seriously got to try it. The pin-up waves it gives are unbeatable and they lasted for days. I'm obsessed with you. Also, I love it.

I was literally just happy how to do pin-cross. They were all different this time. Long story long, no place feels like home to me, as much as a quaint neighborhood hair salon. And everywhere I've lived, I've always searched for a friendly little salon

I may be the only cis-hat male who has been standing

“who has a standing appointment for a deep conditioning treatment and a roller set.”

I love him a lot. I'm in my forties, and I still have a full healthy head of hair. Yes, because you don't look care of it. Yeah. And I like to believe that part of the reason is the unnamed ghost lady

is my haircardian angel. This is my favorite story we've ever seen. This is my favorite story. She's watching over the hair. She's watching over my hair the same way I looked up for her.

I love it. Thank you for your time. No, thank you for your love. And keep it weird. Just weird enough that you go to get your hair done

with some old school curlers as a tribute to all the badass women who came before. Rob. Literally Rob. I'm obsessed with you. Rob.

That is the, that is this. I just spit everywhere. The sweetest tale we've ever received. I love that. Wow.

That just made my whole day. Yeah. Rob forever. We're done. Yeah, that was it.

That was perfect. Oh my god. I love that tale. Sandwich. Wow.

Guys, it was the 80s. Yeah. I think he's good.

“Can't wait to wash my face and brush my hair.”

Yeah. I gotta tell you something.

I've never felt more insane in my life.

You look great. I liked being crampus better. Yeah. Yeah. In Miranda Presley.

Yeah. And love. Yeah. That goes for that. Thank you.

Yeah. I'll take me back to Miranda's story. I'm pretty comfortable. But you could stay like that. The tight pants.

You could stay like that. And they don't think funny people would question it. Probably about now. I love it. All right.

Well, thank you guys so much for writing in your tales.

If you have a tale and you want to write in, send them to morbidpodcast.gmail.com.

Make sure to say hello to everybody. And title it. Listener tales. Tell them your tale. And if they're, if there are any pictures or anything, just make sure you give us permission

to share or tell us that you don't want them shared. Yes. Just like tell us either way. Tell us. Tell us.

And I think that's it. Yeah. All right. So we hope you're listening. And we hope you keep it weird.

But not so weird that you don't go get a fucking roller set with a ghost lady. Don't keep it so weird that you break into people's house and steal it. Don't do it. That's like that's insane. What's fucked up?

Those are mine. You can't be doing that. No. Don't keep it so weird that in the afterlife you assault somebody's grandma. No.

You can't do that. We're talking about you. You pervy old ghost old Joe. Yeah. Mr. Stilio girl.

You can't do that. And do not. Keep it so weird as to sleep with your upstairs bedroom door. Open. And run into Richard Ramirez.

He's dead now. But or to beat Richard Ramirez. Don't ever keep it by word. Don't eat cabbage batch kids. Remember when he got the shit kicked out of him by an entire neighborhood.

That was pretty wild. That was great. I was on school that. If you don't know already. It was a 90's.

It was a 90's. That was the. No. Oh my god. It was a.

It was caught in the 1985. Oh my gosh. Okay. It was the 80's.

“So that's why the shit on the head of my bird.”

Okay. Here we are. Get him out. All right. Well.

We already said keep it weird. So bad. I guess. So bad. Love you.

You're rad. Totally tubular. [Music]