Lot 122 : My Sugar Daddy Asks Me For Weird Favors

When we had the idea to build a site for our Antiquarium merch,

“could he shared scandals, blankets, even secret to coders? I had no idea what I was doing.”

I've got zero web design know how, even at its most basic. Then I remembered something I would see whenever I would order stuff from some of my favorite vendors, and that was Shopify. I signed up real quick just to play around with it for a bit. I was shocked that all the tools I was looking for were right there. Within an hour, the Antiquarium shop dot in my Shopify.com was alive. I'm not exaggerating.

I couldn't believe how simple, fast, and honestly rewarding it was to use.

They've got hundreds of ready-to-use templates, so you can build a store that actually matches your brand, looks pro, guide your personality without needing to be a designer, what's so ever. They've even automated and calculated shipping, which I thought was going to be a nightmare. They don't even need to stand in long lines to post office to wait things in. That's all done with. Go in, drop it off, get on with your day, run discounts,

“promo codes, email campaigns, Shopify gives you everything you need to grow.”

If you've been sitting on an idea and asking yourself what if, listen, don't let anything stand in your way. It's time to turn those what ifs into with Shopify today. They've given us a special opportunity to pass along to you, the Antiquarium guest. It's a $1 per month trial. Get it by typing shopify.com/tash. That shopify.com/tash. I wish we had access to this when we launched ours.

Shopify.com/tash. We use it. We love it. We are so excited to see it empower you to make your dreams a reality. Send us a link, show us what you do with it so we can buy some of your stuff. Shopify rules. For an ad-free experience, visit the Obsidian Covenant.com.

Never mind. I've got something rather curious for you today. A piece of a femurah. Always love that word.

Goes back to the 16th century. Comes from the Greek word, F. Amiros, meaning lasting only a day. Items not meant to be preserved. Like tickets, posters, and this note. Recovered from a private residence. Sline crease along the centre. Watermark from where a glass once sat. Handwritten in black ink that is now running down one side as if the words are trying to escape the page. If you are wondering why,

well, how about you jot down some notes yourself in this nasty page, Turner called. My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Elizabeth Nunn, Sarah Hlineoski,

Joe Moore, Abraham Sanchez, Empress of the Nine, and Transatlantic Horrors. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the order. Go to the Obsidian Covenant

“dot com to receive the sacrament. Sounds harmless enough, right?”

Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. -My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors. His Tinder profile said he was 45, but he looked to be in his early 30s at most. Looking for a sugar baby $700 weekly? No sex. It sounded to good to be true, but as a

I swiped right, and Tinder let me know it was a match. His message came seconds later.

“Hey, there's weed on it. I cringed at that word. I hated it, but”

$700 was $700, so I sucked it up and replied, "Hey. His name was Jack, and he told me he owned his own business,

although he never specified what kind of business it was. We talked for a while before he asked

me for my ven modus sent me the first payment. After a few minutes, I got the notification. I stared at that $700 for at least 20 minutes, expecting to wake up from a dream at any second, but it wasn't a dream. You still there? I clicked on the message. Yeah, sorry, if you don't mind me asking, what are you looking for in return? I stared at the chat until he replied. I'm just looking for you to do a few favors for me. That sounded like it was going to be

sexual to me. Like what? For example, the first thing I need you to do is pick up a delivery for me.

That sounded innocent enough, but I was still expecting there to be some kind of twist. $700 to pick up a package. Come on, even I wasn't that naive. From the post office or something? No, I'll send you the address, but I'd rather not do this to tender. You had kick or you can give me your number. Kick? What was this 2011? I decided to give him my number instead, and he texted me the address

immediately, followed by the address to his house where I would have to drop off the package.

“I'm not home right now, but there's a key on the bottom of the blue flower pot here at the door.”

Go inside and put the package on the coffee table in the living room. Make sure you lock the door when you go inside the house and then lock it again when you leave. I grabbed my car keys and wallet and got into my car putting the address into Google Maps. Got it on my way. My phone buzzed as I backed out of my driveway. I'm serious. Lock the door both times. Please. I thought that was a little excessive, but I promised him that I would. The house looked abandoned.

It had a broken chain length fence around it with a small door that was hanging on to dear life. It stuck out like a sore thumb surrounded by houses that were a lot nicer than this one in comparison. You hear the jack shit? I looked up to see a man standing in the open doorway of the house. He took up almost the entire space, his head skimming the top of the door frame. He was huge, in height, and muscles, and his entire torso was covered in tattoos.

Yeah, I guess. Stay right there. I did. I actually don't think I would have moved to via asked me to. I looked around and realized that there was no one else on this street. I was a 21-year-old woman alone in the street. I grabbed my car keys. A few minutes later, the man came back out, carrying a cardboard box. It was about the size of a shoe box, but stained and damp on some of the corners. Can you open your car? I opened the trunk, not wanting that inside on my car seats,

and he said it in. All right, there you go. Thanks. I walked around to the driver's side of the car

“and opened the door. Oh, and, uh, one more thing. I looked at him. Watch. How?”

I didn't rip my. I blasted my music as I drove to Jack's house, hoping it would drown out my anxiety. It didn't. I parked my car in the stone driveway and stayed inside the car and miring the house.

in my life. I turned the car off and got out. I grabbed the package and walked to the front door,

“getting the key from where he said it would be. I opened the door and stepped in,”

closing it behind me. I thought about what he had said about locking the door when I got inside. I thought that was a little overboard, but as I stared at the closed door, something made me reach out and lock it. I walked inside my feet cushioned by the thick maroon carpet and admired the inside of the house. All the furniture was wooden and looked incredibly expensive. I would probably finish school a dozen times with the money that it took to furnish this place.

I set the package down on the coffee table and as I walked back to the door, I heard a phone

ringing from somewhere inside the house. I froze. In my pocket, my phone buzzed. I took it out to look. Don't answer any calls that aren't from Marvin. I put my phone back and followed the sound of the phone poking my head into a few different rooms before I found it in an office. I walked over to the desk and looked at the caller ID incoming call from Jack. That was odd. I grabbed my phone to look at the message again.

I was starting to get a little bit creeped out and decided I wouldn't answer just to be safe and left the house, remembering to lock the door as I left. I've done a few more favors for Jack since then. I drove a BMW to a random park in another city, only to get out and drive a different car back to Jack's house. He had me meet one of his employees

at lunch, who then gave me a briefcase to deliver to the first house I had gone to and told

me he would know if I looked inside. On several occasions, he asked me to drive down to that same house and stay with the guy whose name was Julio for a certain amount of time. In total, I've made around $3,500. Most recently, Jack asked me to stay in his house overnight. I woke up to a

“text message from him. Why need you to spend the night in my house?”

House City! That's a different kind of trust, isn't it? I'd say this relationship is taking a step up or a step in. Hmm, interesting. The pages? No. Stay here. Do not move closer. I'll return shortly. What is going on, my friend, my name is Trevor and from the Acquisitions Department here at the Antiquarium. When we had the idea to build a site for our Antiquarium merch, could he shirts candles, blankets, even secret to coders? I had no idea what I was doing. I got zero

web design know how, even at its most basic. Then I remembered something I would see whenever I would order stuff from some of my favorite vendors and that was Shopify. I signed up real quick just to play around with it for a bit. I was shocked that all the tools I was looking for were right there. Within an hour, the Antiquarium shop dot in my Shopify.com was alive. I'm not exaggerating. I couldn't believe how simple, fast, and honestly rewarding it was to use. They've got hundreds of

ready to use templates, so you can build a store that actually matches your brand, looks pro, guide your personality without needing to be a designer whatsoever. It even automated and calculated shipping, which I thought was going to be a nightmare. You don't even need to stand in long lines to post office to wait things in. That's all done with. Go in, drop it off, get on with your day.

“Run discounts, promo codes, email campaigns, Shopify gives you everything you need to grow.”

If you've been sitting on an idea and asking yourself what if, listen, don't let anything stand in your way. It's time to turn those what ifs into with Shopify today. They've given us a special opportunity to pass along to you, the Antiquarium guest. It's a $1 per month trial. Get it by typing shopify.com/tash. That shopify.com/tas. I wish we had access to this when we launched ours.

a reality. Send us a link, show us what you do with it so we can buy some of your stuff. Shopify rules.

And document it atrocities. And at that moment, feeling to survive, kicked in, almost like an animal in state. I told her to run. I knew that minute something terrible had happened. Why would

“somebody do this to him? Why would they try to hurt my baby?”

Search the Antiquarium with documented atrocities on Apple Spotify and wherever you get your podcasts.

Why hello there. You've reached the Antiquarium. If you wish to leave a message, please do show

what the tone and have a great day. Hi, listen, I've got a camera from you guys and there's something wrong with the camera. Apparently, I'm over this much. It's weird. It keeps getting bigger and after every image, there's eyes on this much. I really need you to take this camera back. It's freaking out. I'm not too sure. It's freaking out. Please take this camera back. And as messages.

“My apologies. We can continue. You'll want to pay attention now. Shall we?”

In total, I've made around $3,500. Most recently, Jack asked me to stay in his house overnight. I woke up to a text message from him. Why need you to spend the night in my house? I hadn't ever seen him in person, but I had talked to him on the phone a few times. He proceeded to tell me he would pay me $1,000 to spend the night at his house, provided that I followed a few rules. I drove to his house that evening. The driveway was empty

and it normally was, but the porch light was on. I walked up, unlocked the door, went inside,

“and then locked it again. Everything in the house looked the same. Jack had told me over the phone that”

he would leave the list of rules on the dining room table. I said all my stuff down in the living room. My bags looked like garbage compared to the fancy furniture in there. I wandered into the kitchen and then to the dining room. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper on the wooden table held down by an empty glass. Lock the door when you come in. Only answer calls from Marvin. Don't turn on any faucets between 9pm and 11pm. Don't open the door for anyone. No matter who

they say they are, after 10pm. If the door to the closet at the end of the hole is open, sleep in the library. If closed, sleep in any of the bed roads. The gardener comes at midnight. If he starts knocking on the windows, hide. Turn the TV on and let it play on static through the night. Do not forget to do this. I made sure to follow all the rules. To be honest, I was regretting my decision. But, seeing as I was already here and I was getting paid, I decided to stay anyway.

I figured as long as I followed all the rules, I'd be perfectly fine. Still, it felt a little odd.

And what was this? A haunted house? Never the last. I lounged around the house for a few hours.

As I was planning on going to sleep around 9, since that's the time that all the weird shit would begin to happen. At 8.50, I brushed my teeth using the faucet for the last time before 9. I checked the closet in the hallway, and upon seeing that it was open, I moved my stuff into the library and got ready to sleep on the couch. I locked the doors just in case and laid on the couch

up scenarios and reasons as to why he had such strict peculiar sets of rules in his house.

I had dosed off at some point because at exactly 10.16 p.m. I was woken up by the doorbell ringing. I was about to get up to check, but then I remembered the rule. Don't open the door for anyone, no matter who they say they are, after 10 p.m. I stayed on the couch, trying not to move. Paranoid that they would hear even the slightest sound. Police open up! Hello? I didn't move. It's the police open up or we're coming in!

I still didn't move, but I could hear in my heartbeat in my ears. There was silence for a while after that. Then the doorbell rang again. Hey, it's Jack. Let me in. It sounded like Jack, but still,

“I didn't get up. He would have a key, wouldn't he? Why would he need me to let him in?”

This continued for almost a full hour. Different people would ring the doorbell, announce themselves, and then disappear when I didn't respond. I was finally able to fall asleep, and the

gardener never came. When I woke up the next morning, I heard someone in the kitchen.

I got up slowly and unlocked the door as quietly as possible, taking my phone with me and walking across the living room and into the kitchen. I stopped at the entrance and peered in. It was Jack. He was standing in front of the stove, stirring something as the coffee machine brood coffee on the counter behind him. Hey, good morning! Hi, I hadn't seen him in person before, but he looked exactly like his pictures online. Scrambled eggs? Yeah, thanks. I ate my breakfast and drank some coffee

in silence. So how was it? It was okay. Nothing super freaky happened. Cool. There was an awkwardness

“in the room. I think I'm going to go now. I have class. I didn't, but I really wanted to get out of”

there. I grabbed my stuff and he walked me to my car. I could see him standing in the driveway, staring at me as I left. When I got home, I unpacked all my stuff and noticed that I still had the list with me. I sat on my bed and read it again. I felt my body tense up as I realized that I had forgotten something. Turn the TV on and let it play on static through a night. Do not forget to do this. Turn the TV on and let it play on static through a night. Do not

forget to do this. Do not forget to do this. I stared at the words on the page until they lost meaning beside me my phone bust snapping me back to reality. It was the thousand dollar payment.

“I looked at my phone and then back at the list. Maybe it wasn't an important step.”

As I was thinking this over, a text from Jack came in. I'm not in town right now. I should be back next week so you're free from running any more errands for me until then. Just in the payment, go do something fun. I stared at the message and read it again and again and once more for good measure. I'm not in town right now. I'm not in town right now. I thought back to this morning and how Jack was in his house. How he gave me breakfast. I'm not in town right now.

I'm not in town right now. Within minutes a new text came in this time from a number that I didn't recognize. Did you forget to do something? The text was followed by a picture of Jack or whoever this version of Jack was standing in front of the TV. I didn't respond. Next came another picture.

Watch. It's out.

“(C)T-T-Y-T-T-H-L-E-N-S-T-Y-R-K-Z-F. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new”

relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sorted history. It does come with our usual warning,

however. Absolutely no refunds. No exchanges. And we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's a company by a history of bizarre and disturbing

“circumstances. Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and it's story by the shop to share with”

other customers. Please reach out to [email protected]. A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes. In the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you, our best customer. You have a good night now.

“The antiquarium of sinister happenings, lot 1-2-2. My sugar daddy asks me for weird favors.”

Consigned by Gabi Rivera, starring Melissa Medina, Jared Griffiths, Mark Lepoints,

Conan Freeman, and Trevor Shand, featuring Steven Noles as the antique dealer, production and sound designed by Kevin Seaman, theme music by the new brothers. Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abashek, Clement Panchau, Nicholas Reading, and Conan Freeman. The antiquarium of sinister happenings is created and curated by Trevor Moore and Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter @ antiquariumpod. Call the antiquarium@646-41-71-97.

It's a mysterious crossroads where the denizens of this world and others. He is a trickster, and I'm sure whatever he brought back on the world of the dead was a one-way trip. Good night, Daly. And for detective Frank DuPran, we'll see you in there. And Nicky Goodluck, this will be a dark ride. Welcome to New Orleans's babies. Listen to something wicked on Spotify, Apple Podcast or whatever you enjoy listening.

[BLANK_AUDIO]