Episode 584: Creepypasta XX - The Big One
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All right guys my sweet boys, let's give it to him. Let's give it to him the best thing they ever experienced This is the best this give me the best episode that these guys have ever Who's these guys are fucking these fucking evil dogs called our listeners? the evil fucking crooked dogs called our listeners

They're going to eat this up. Yeah, I know I'm off mic right now. So we know for a fact we're going to slap this out. And those mother fucks are going to just get so horny for it. They're going to have sex with their own parents listening to our goddamn episode. Earlier you were telling me that the listeners come in their own mouths and eat it. Because they're wise. And I'm just glad that I said that. None of this is on mic. Because they seem so nice to me. No, they're cruel.

Oh, my career.

I'm Marcus Parks. I'm here with broken career Henry Zebrowski. Hey, man, every single time I break it down, I just rebuild stronger. And that's the key. And nice man, Ed Larson. Yes, I like you people. I don't think you're... And by you people, I mean you fucks. Thank you. Thank you. But I don't really think you're a bunch of classless dogs. I think that you're...

Educated dogs. Yeah, educated dogs. Dogs who can read. With manners. That's nice, and I think that's nice. But today, it's time to keep the tradition alive.

Like we always have. Because we're leaving town for three weeks. Yep. And we need an episode to do before we left. Yes. Is that part of the tradition? Yep. Yep. And then what's nice, though, is because there's a reason for this one. Yeah. There's a reason. Because we've done Creepypasta episodes many times over the years. I think, what number is this?

Number fucking 20. Wow. That's crazy. And on this auspicious anniversary, it is very, very nice to have Ed Larson join us for the first time. I was reading a bunch of creepypastas, and I think something that creepypasta authors have never heard is second draft. I'd love...

I love that Eddie has immediately understood. You just get it, man, right off the bat. We kind of completely understand what our struggle is. Yeah. Mein Kampf. With creepypasta. I actually used to try to, like, write second drafts for them. He did. For...

I started reading it. I was like, no, no, no. It loses a little bit of the charm if you inject the slightest hint of professionalism into it. Oh, yeah. So there'll be some misplaced words that I'm just probably going to leave in there. Well, Eddie's also, I think I'm really proud of him because you worked on your reading. I did. I cut my phonics out, my phonics workbooks out. He worked on his reading. He got his eyeballs tightened. But have you ever been frightened by something you've read, Eddie, that's not the news? No. No.

You've never read a horror book? Never read a book. I mean, I haven't read a book. I mean, it's rare. I saw you read A Thick Menu once. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll read a book a year. Yeah? Yeah. Yeah, like, but what's the book? Last time it was the Don Rickles autobiography. Wow, yeah, yeah. And that was very short. It's usually autobiographies by comedians. And very big type. So you've never been scared by anything literary? No, it's a book.

That's funny. The only scary book is the Bible. Honestly, I will say some of the most frightening things I've ever encountered were books. Yeah. And then things have actually frightened me. And it's, you know, stuff like Richard Matheson, House of Blue Leaves. There's a couple.

of books that really have like there's if you're really engrossed and you're really in the center of a story you can get very freaked out yeah I think my biggest problem with reading books is like halfway through I just I'm reading but I'm thinking of something completely different yes it's good that is it's an issue I gotta reread the page and I just get mad at myself because I wasn't paying attention to this waste of my own time see I feel like there's a lot of your own personal struggles getting there your own comp I can hand you some comic books some

Some Junji Ito, I think, would freak you the fuck out. Yeah? Yeah. Because that's like a cartoon to me, and a cartoon can freak me out. It should. Just watch it. Just read some Junji Ito, and then we'll see. No cartoons ever freaked you out?

I mean, maybe when I was a kid, The Last Unicorn and The Secret of NIMH kind of fucked with me. You know what I always think about is in the Twilight Zone movie, the cartoon that the... But that's Claymation. The faceless person's watching. No, but you remember when...

she does the thing, it cuts over to the older sister, the mental kid, the kid that you can control things with his mind in the final story, and it cuts and reveals that she has the no mouth, but she's watching this weird, old-timey cartoon. It's a second to final story. Yes, but it's a weird cartoon that's like... I love those. They're like, oh, no, no, oh! I love fake cartoons in horror movies. Is that fake, or is that just an old Tex Avery thing? I don't know.

It could have been. I think it was. But, well, we'll never know. No. We'll never know. And I won't research it. Henry, you want to get the audience all prepared? Guys, it's creepypasta. Now, I don't drink as much as I used to. That's for certain. All right, I like the cold, hard reality. Looking into the mirror. Want to be frightened? Take a look at the mirror. Take a look at your watch. Look back at the mirror. Look at your watch. Oh, my God, it's two years past? Yeah.

Happened so fast. Isn't that frightening? Look at the news. Oh my god. The sphere. Fish man. There's a fucking live at the sphere. Concert all around me bro. Fucking spheres out there dude. How can we sleep?

The sphere's alive, right? But for today's episode, let's leave all these esoteric things out that frighten us away. Things like the sphere and other bit large venues. I mean, just the price of admission alone. Tell me about it. And then the merch and then the drinks. But there's other scary things besides that, like poverty, rampant obesity, very frightening things that you really have to think about. Rampant obesity. I'm so big.

So before you get too scared

What you like to do is I don't drink as much, but what I have been getting really into is sweet fucking. It's called cold water hash. Yeah. And like delicious. Do this Lebanese hash. You've been getting into weed lately? Lately? This is different, dude. It comes in balls and powders, dude. And what you do is you put that ball in powder. What I make is a little parfait. So each night when I sit, and it's how I get myself good and proper to be with my family.

A little base of weed. Throw some indica in there. Hybrid cold water hash layer. Scrape the key from the bottom of my indica grinder. I have an indica and a sativa grinder separate. That's success. I add the indica key on top of the hybrid hash, right? Let that settle. Push it down with my little spoon. Then I put another pile of loose leaf. Indica nature. Hybrid if you got it.

another scoop hybrid hash right you put that on there it's the most boring thing i've ever no dude no there are guys out there there are guys out there dude that are doing this it's called a crooked parfait all right you fucking i got my fucking i got a piece of string i like yeah i know that i used the string now better than string you know i use the fucking hemp

You're smoking tampons. To fucking light it, dude. Because if not, you're getting the butane in your dick. It's why we're coming plastic. Gotta use the fucking hemp. I don't think it's from the butane. Yeah, dude, it is, man. You gotta fucking use hemp, man. Honestly, that's great, though. Dressed in hemp. Look at Marcus.

Marcus. He's half hemp. The more plastic in my comb, the less condoms I have to buy. I know. It's like already in there. Yeah. It's already inside. All right. So why don't you take that and you spark that and just let that sweet, sweet, herbaceous Alice in Wonderland fucking scenario take over your horseshit, dude. Forget about your job. Fuck.

Fuck your kids. Don't. I said, I never said have sex with your kids. To hell with your kids. To hell with your kids' needs. Sure, okay. Right? Beat them.

Go in there and punch your son in the face. Now listen, I want you to smoke a bowl and show your son how it doesn't make you fucking weak. And then you just got, after you've beaten him, you can then explain, it's only because I was so scared of this recent episode of Creepypasta number 20 on last podcast on the left. Oh.

What an intro. Almost as good as the stories we're going to read. Almost. And that's what I love, Eddie, is that you've never even done one of these before and you already understand. Yeah.

Because I like creepypasta, but it ain't necessarily getting better. But we're going to do our best, aren't we, Marcus? We're going to make it super scary today. Do you think that people stopped writing creepypastas like seven years ago? No, dude. These are just the ones that are left. Our no sleep is still huge. I mean, they're getting made into fucking movies and TV shows these days. What was the one like, it was like Daniel, the one that was like a guy had the Daniel character. It was from Twitter. It was a guy that told a ghost story on Twitter and then he made a whole fucking movie about it and it sucked.

Nah, I don't know. I don't find them. I have no comment. Marcus? Well, Ed, this first story is dedicated to you. Thank you, Marcus. Currently, you're wearing your Florida's biggest baby t-shirt. Yeah, that's right. That's right. It's me. Yeah. 14 pounds, 13.5 ounces. Is that available by any chance? Anytunes.com. Wow. You can get your biggest baby t-shirts. You are turning into Jackie the Joke Man Martling with selling your own merch.

Dude, you gotta have... We need a 1-800 number. Oh, what a good idea! That's what we need. We need a 1-800 number. Where you can just, like, listen to me snore? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

To listen to Julie to ask you to clean the bathroom? This story's called Being the Big One. Very good. Perfect. It's submitted by Nico. I like to source all my creepypastas pre-2020. I like to go back to find websites from 2017, 2015, gold name to the weirdos. Because the key of old school creepypasta is that you could almost believe that it was real, like the old days of the internet. That's why it was super creepy. We all thought Blair Witch was real. Yeah. Yeah.

I mean, I knew it wasn't, but at the same time, I wanted it to be real. Yes. When I went and saw that movie in the theater, right when they were trying to, when the witch came, lightning hit the theater and all the power went out and we had to leave. That's fucking awesome. And I got a rain check, but it was scary. That sounds scary. Being the big one. So you got a little brother, huh? Oh boy. Don't I ever know how that can be? Let me guess. Is he always getting in your stuff? Yeah. Don't I know it?

Why is this an old man? Why is this an old southern man? Wriggling his way in all your piles. Messing up the order. Next thing you know, you got all your juices running out of their holders. And you can't have that. And he's... Let me just take another guess here. Tell me if I'm wrong. He's always asking if he can borrow your tubes.

The good ones you really worked on. Your good tubes. What are you fucking talking about? He's got his own tubes. But of course, he needs yours to do his slurping. He can't possibly be bothered to slurp with his own perfectly good tube. Mercy. Been there before. There's beasts in the vent. He says, how about this one?

There's beasts in the vent, he says. And you go in the vent and you check out all these beasts. There's no beasts. It was just another sneak looking for old chunks. I feel like I'm stuck on the VIP meet and greet line for Molly Hatchet.

And he wants you to choke the sneak. You don't got to choke the sneak. That ain't necessary. Just wrap him up in a rag and roll him down the hill. He knows not to come back. Don't got to be cruel. And of course, you got to use your own rag from your own pile. Got to wring the juices out of it.

Gotta go to all the trouble of putting on your old dry arms. Yeah. So you don't get the nice ones all covered in juices. Is this long legs? He could have used his own rag, but he wants you to do it. Talk about my little brother. Yeah. That's what it's all about, though, I suppose. Being the big one. Gotta be there for him. Gotta help him clean his... Gotta help him... I'm turning autistic.

Gotta help him clean his pegs, change his brain at night, make sure he's been keeping his muscles wet. Somebody's gotta teach him so he knows how to do it when he expands. Ah, listen to me go on and on. What's this old fool talking about? I can't speak for you.

Your shape's all different anyway. Probably goes different on your hill. Tubes and rags. Tubes and rags and pegs and brains. I love a story about an older brother. I'll miss those. See, that's a fun creepypasta because I like it when they don't try to get too deep into Mark Twain category. Because they always will do a lot of creepypastas where they try to have some ironic

twist. Oh yeah, that's the big thing is the ironic twist at the end. But that's my favorite style of creepypasta. My absolute favorite is just like weird, unsettling monologue. Chaos. Exactly. And that's why we started with me and the big one. Now this one. Hey man, those are my brother's tubes. Don't mess them up. That's my brother's tubes. Here we go. Now this was contributed by Eddie Polo.

Yeah. Cleared it out. That was actually in the script. That won't be necessary. It's the name of the story. Oh. A few weeks ago, my wife and I took a vacation to Florida. We decided to drive due to the price of airplane tickets around the holiday season. On our way south, we passed through Tennessee as well as a large portion of Georgia.

Unfortunately, there was a large accident that occurred on the turnpike, so we decided to take a short detour and then get back onto the turnpike after we passed all the traffic. Let me describe the amount of cars I drove past. It's important. Please do.

There was a blue car and a Mazda and a Toyota. Then what? And a Nissan and a Dodge. And after that? And then a VW Bug and then a Pontiac. And then there was a Tesla. See, my wife and I grew fond of the roads that we drove on. Loved seeing cars and naming them.

Is there a big motel? No.

Specifically half height. Motel 8s are larger than Motel 6s. Yes, yes, and two larger. Now we got to our room, unpacked what we needed for the night, and began to watch some TV and slowly fall asleep. It was Diners, Drivers, and Dives! And he was driving a Camaro, and the chef was driving a Hyundai. Around 3 a.m., we both awoke to an eerie distant siren. Huh?

After half an hour of listening to it, I decided I'd go find out what it was. I love Sirens. As I've said.

Everyone knows that about you. Everybody knows that about me. I love a siren because it just means a car's singing. If a fire truck goes by, Henry runs out of the studio and starts barking. This is his character. This is his character, not Henry. But I do do the, give me the toot. Yeah, you put your arm up and down. I always do the toot toot to them. And guess what, man? They give it to you. Whether you're a fucking big-titted girl or not. They like it. They like it. Yeah, Brexit monotony.

In front of the hotel, this very small motel, half height, a few men stood smoking cigarettes. So I decided to ask them. One of the men explained there was a prison a few miles west of where we were staying. And there must have been an attempted breakout.

He also explained that the prison is maximum security and that the escapee was most likely shot or caught. And with the assurance that we were not in danger, I explained to my wife the situation. We both got some well-needed shut-eye. Sounds like you're in danger. No. Things are cool. Because I knew if I see two different Camrys,

Things gonna be alright. Now, we started early around 7 a.m. We wanted to get to our hotel, the big hotel, in time to have a nice dinner and hang out for a while. Yeah. Sex. We drove to the south streets for South Side Streets for a while. We noticed a sign that said turnpike entrance five miles.

We were both relieved. We were finally at ease. In insurance, we knew that we were close to the highway. I turned on some soft rock and my wife put in her earbuds and began listening to a different radio station because we are incompatible. We do not love each other anymore. But I was sitting there rocking to the back in the high life again. I love Steve Winwood and cars.

And as we continued, I could see a strange man standing on the side of the road just a few hundred feet away. You should pick him up. Oh, you bet. With my hands. It seemed as if he were a hitchhiker. And being the kind Samaritan that I am, I offered him a ride. That would be great! He replied to me and we began heading south. This is despite the very clear warning that he had just received earlier. No, no, no, no, no. We were safe. Entirely safe. What was he wearing? He was wearing the striped suit.

I thought it was amazing. I thought it was like, oh, you're some kind of professional candy man or something. And I asked him, where do you need me to take you? I asked him respectfully. Anywhere but here. He muttered in a low voice. I don't know what he was talking about. I agreed to take him where he needed to go when we were off. He said any place, not the prison.

So do you need me to call anyone for you or something? It won't be any trouble. I asked him. He said that won't be necessary. He said, I agreed. The man was very muscular. Super muscular. Yeah. And he had these crazy, wacky looking X's tattooed all over him.

Crazy exes. Like Mr. Zazz? No. Like Mr. Zazz. Crazy exes. I think I saw somewhere in that my favorite funny movie that's even private riot. All those exes from Texas. That's why he lives in Tennessee. That's why he's asking for a ride to Tennessee. He wore an old white t-shirt and ripped a pair of jeans that were covered in mud. They seemed like mud. It was some kind of white mud. His hair was very messy and he had a patchy beard.

But what was most strange about him was the fact that he wore no shoes. Now, I noticed I needed to get gas before I got onto the turnpike. So, I mean, it was a full five miles. So I offered to drop the man off at the nearest gas station. But he denied my request and pleaded for me to take him into Florida. I agreed. I began filling my tank with gas. No questions asked. The man began to walk into the restroom located on the side of the gas station. My wife was extraordinarily quiet. So I started to talk to her. But instead, she began to type something on her phone.

I watched in wonder. She typed a text. It was a few sentences long. And when she finished, she slowly turned the phone so that I could see it. The text read, We need to leave. I heard on the radio that a man escaped, and he fits the man's personality and description perfectly.

She wrote this in the text, wasn't he in the bathroom? No. The guy was, the bad guy was in the bathroom. I was filling up the glass. Okay. Because even serial killers got to shit. So I put $30 in the fuel pump, not even taking my time to go inside and pay. I got situated and I turned the car on and I began to put the car...

in drive. And I began to dial 9 1 1 A strange wave of heat touched my left ear and I heard a whisper, that won't be necessary. That's it.

That's the story. Did he also like soft rock? The Hitchhiker? Extremely angry with my choice of music, which is why he put a gun in my mouth. And then he made my wife suck my penis at gunpoint. And then he shot her in the head. And then made me suck his penis at gunpoint. And then we got married. Because I didn't have a wife anymore. See, I thought it would have been a different fella. The cops would have come and just killed him by accident.

Could be. There's a lot of different ways that this story could have ended well. Or as soon as he got out of the car, the wife could have said, go, go, go, go, go, go, go. I'll tell you later. No, he did. He got situated. And he slowly got his keys out. And he slowly turned and he slowly pulled out his phone. What was the last car you think he saw?

God damn it if it wasn't a Miata. Guess it's time to die. This podcast is brought to you by Squarespace. Finding work-life balance can be tough, but Squarespace gives you the tools to reach your goals and have time to celebrate.

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What is your first story? My first story is called Trust Your Doctors by Mr. Monk Rat. But the thing is, also remember, do trust your doctors, but get a second opinion. Oh, for sure. For sure. Well, Dr. Victor Harlan was a renowned surgeon in the quiet town of Redbrook.

His reputation for unparalleled skill was matched only by his mysterious demeanor. Dr. Harlan was a man of few words, but his medical successes spoke for him. I feel like your big mentally handicapped son. Yes. Like you're reading me like I'm just sitting here going like, yeah, more story or I'll kill you. More story or I'll choke you, daddy. One day you'll go to sleep. Anyway.

And the townsfolk, they admired him. Redbrook had always been a peaceful place, but recently patients admitted for minor surgeries often left with more than they bargained for.

An unusual number of amputations were being performed. Always justified by Dr. Harlan with a grim diagnosis or an unexpected complication. Yeah, she has unneeded feet disorder. Yeah, no one dared to question the doctor's decisions. After all, he was the expert. Linda, a young nurse new to the hospital, was the first to suspect that something was amiss. She noticed discrepancies in the patient's charts and

The frequency of the amputations. Everyone does a pain in the ass. Gonna check the detail. Oh, yeah. Detail-oriented women. His shit was fine up to this point. What's your mother's name? Oh, God. I went and I looked. But no, but my mom would have covered for him. Who'd have been like, he's a doctor. You know better. And so handsome. And so handsome. He's single.

But she noticed discrepancies in the patient's charts and the frequency of the amputations. First, it was a finger, then a foot, then a hand, then a leg. Each surgery a week or so apart.

She finally decided to investigate it more when she found a hastily scribbled list on Dr. Harlan's desk with various body parts circled and checked off. That's so fucking stupid. Not just the idea. He left it out and been like, hands, check, legs, check, left, check, check, right, left.

Looking for a right. Well, she thought, is he selling body parts or doing some weird experiments? You're wrong, Linda. Linda, that's where I hate you.

Well, unable to shake her growing speculation that Dr. Harlan was involved in the uptick in amputations, Linda decided to... He definitely was involved. He's the one doing the fucking surgeries. Yes. So he has to be involved because they're not just happening spontaneously. I didn't write the story. Yeah, I'm just saying. It didn't happen. Of course. He's the surgeon. Where else would they go? That's where the amputations are happening. Continue. So she decided to look into the matter further.

One night, she snuck into the hospital. After hours, her heart pounding with every step. The hospital's eerie silence was broken only by the distant hum of machinery. Hum. Thank you. She made her way to Dr. Harlan's office where she found a key to his storage room at his desk. That's not a key. There you go. Cool.

Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink, clink. Oh. Oh.

Wrapped in plastic. Why is he labeling them? Why does it matter who they belong to? Oh my gosh! She gasped in horror.

They're labeled with butcher cuts. It's a cookbook! Oh, it's a cookbook! Linda stumbled back, vomit rising in the back of her throat. The room seemed to spin as the horror of her discovery sank in. She turned to flee, but her path was blocked by Dr. Harlan, his silhouette framed by the doorway. Hungry?

Going somewhere, Miss Linda? He asked, his voice as cold as the freezer behind her. Linda tried to scream, but her fear paralyzed her. Dr. Harlan stepped closer, the faintest hint of a smile curling as he licked his lips. Curiosity can be dangerous, he said. Desperate, Linda lunged for the door, but Dr. Harlan was too quick.

He grabbed her in a chokehold and muffled her screams with a chloroform rag. You should have minded your own business! She should have. This is Linda's fault. I blame Linda. Oh, wait, I'm sorry. You should have minded your own business, he whispered. Oh, yeah, you tell me to mind my business and you're telling everybody else's business. She passed out. When Linda awoke...

She was strapped to an operating table, unable to move. The sterile smell of the room overwhelmed her senses. Dr. Harland stood over her, his eyes alight with a chilling, sadistic glee. In a low, comforting tone, Dr. Harland spoke. Don't worry, Linda. You'll be okay. I want to thank you for completing my list. I...

What you need? Where was it? I can't feel my legs. She said in a panic.

Don't worry, Linda. I can feel your legs. That's so fucking stupid. Dr. Harlan lifted her dismembered leg up for her to see. Wing, wing. Oh, hello, hello. I get a call on my foot cell phone. I'm a doctor, not a comedian. He stroked her leg with the back of his hand. It looks like

Bone-in hamsticks are on the menu tonight! End of story one. Thank you very much. Turn tape over. Man, they really just don't get better. That is... I love the... There's been so many... I will say there's many in this realm of... We do cookbook!

It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook.

episode, nay, 20 episodes dedicated to creepypastas. It's because we're fucking, we are locked in. Well, we love them. And these creepypastas are a part of our life now. And I view it like taxes. These creepypastas must be processed and they must move through society. It must continue to go. Yeah, I mean, you do have some, like, Ed's that are very much like a... It's a cookbook. It's a cookbook. But I like...

I like the strange ones. Me too. The ones that are really badly written. Like, Birth Child. Ooh. Submitted by Hisham. Hisham? Shh.

There is a clip on the web somewhere. I saw it only once. I don't know if it's real or fake. These days you never know what twisted stuff people will record. Shock videos. Oh, I've heard. They call them. That's what they call them. I've heard there's shock videos on the internet. Anyway, I don't remember its name. I've tried searching various terms and now my search history looks like that of a sex offender. Is this you or the story? Story.

He hasn't become the story yet. I don't remember downloading it or which video streaming site I saw it on. I don't even remember the circumstances surrounding its viewing. Whether somebody linked me to a shock video. Then why say it? Or something I misclicked or whatever. Oh, that word looks like mislicked. It does. It's misclicked. No, mislicked is when you accidentally lick your grandfather. Oh. Oh.

Nothing worse. I thought that was the blowjob princess. Yeah, that's different. It depends on how far your grandfather comes inside of your mouth. My name's Miss Licht. She died in WW2. Don't bring up Miss Licht again, all right? Jerry's turned her into a lamp. I'm no longer sure it ever existed, this video, but the memory is so very vivid. It's a clip of childbirth.

There is no sound. The picture quality is... The mother-in-law is in the stirrups, and the camera is pointing right at her. Right down the pipe! Right at her, you know, where... The hole! Where the camera... Yes, the hole. The hole! It's pointing down the... The holes! Both! Being filled. Yes. The forceps. Well, one is already filled, and the other, soon to be vacated from there.

They focus on the forceps, you know, the things that look like spatulas. Yeah, click clack, click clang, clang clang clang clang clang clang. That's why he made that noise. Oh yeah, the salad spits. He inserts them very slowly.

into both sides. He slowly, gingerly eases the baby out, just a little at a time. I'm just so full of baby. I just need you to pull it out. I'm so cram-packed full of baby. You're gonna get this baby out of me. Come on, why don't you pull that shit out? I want a colorful child. Come on. Touch my clit.

It's Vaseline. I hate petroleum jelly. And I've been covered in petroleum jelly. Because it's not real jelly. He works out one arm, then the other. And I don't.

Hey, what's going on? Nice to be here. Nice to be here, buddy. Thanks for having me. Thanks, Doctor. Go fuck yourself. Oh, it's so hot in there. Thanks for getting it out on me. Thanks for pulling it out. Not yet, not yet, not yet. Then the torso is worked out. I thought it would be easier after that, but no, no. He frees the legs as well, carefully and slowly, one at a time. Pfft.

Everything! It's a boyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

The doctor actually sticks his fingers into the birth canal. Yeah, there it is. To ease it out. Yeah, it's right here. This is where the birth canal is. It's the hole at the bottom. Not the brown, the pink. Then he sticks his whole hand in. Fister sister. To take out the placenta. He inserts his arm...

fairly deep, but very gently. Don't worry. Let me just, yeah, there's just a little bit more in there. Let me get a little bit more. There's nothing gentle about putting your whole hand in a woman. I'm doing it slow. He removes the placenta carefully. Nice. As to avoid tearing it.

He carefully turns over the placenta to show us the side that was attached to the uterine wall! This is how you sex a placenta. So far this is just birth. Yep. Which is the most horrifying thing of all. There is a whitish curd.

The video's resolution is bad, so I'm not sure, but it looks like there are two round, glossy, black dots, like beady eyes, and a vague outline of something with legs, and fearless, and curled up like a shrimp? But I'm not sure. What? Could be just patterns in the percenter, in my mind imagining things.

There are surprisingly... Is shrimps in the placenta? There are surprisingly little blood. Very little. For childbirth. Now, the next part, I did not imagine. I know this for definite. It's the part that sticks out in my mind. The reason why this clip has stuck with me all this time. Sir, we're just trying to change the oil on your Subaru. If you could just kind of wrap up this little tale of yours. We're all enjoying it. Now, as...

Now, as he lifts away the placenta, someone jostles the camera. And the last thing we see before the clip ends is some guy in the room wearing medical scrubs, bent over and vomiting into a bin. No biggie. Probably some medical student seeing childbirth for the first time. No biggie? Except...

He's puking in reverse. The vomit. No! Shooting back into his mouth! No! No! No!

Boom! They had to put it back! The baby is put back into the woman, yeah. So very carefully, puts the placenta in. So he's watching it in reverse. He's watching it in reverse, yeah. But actually, it's kind of interesting in a way that it sounds like he's helping that woman. And if he genuinely was putting the baby back up inside of her, then it actually makes sense that his arm was in so deep. Actually, the doctor, in many ways...

was doing a good job. Making room. He was getting it done and taking care of the baby and taking care of the woman. I actually think, weirdly, that's not a horror story at all. It's a story of a successful...

Obstetrician? Is that a term? Obstetrician? Yeah. Right? Yeah, I think. Giant gyno? Why was the baby red? I guess it wasn't done cooking. Wasn't done cooking? That's why they go back in her. Or maybe, I mean, there are plot holes. There are many plot holes in this story. I would refer to the movie Junior. If I want to know about birth, that's the movie I learned the most about birth. That and Look Who's Talking.

Look who's talking. Yeah. Show the cum. Show the sperms going through the canal. That's the first time I ever saw that. I'll always remember that. Me too. In the theater. I was like, Mom, what's that? She told me right in front of everybody. Oh, yeah. Now, my parents just left out a book.

Yeah. A little book that said how babies are made. And then they knew how curious I was. My parents left it to my 14 and 15-year-old brothers to explain it to me. Oh, fuck yeah, dude. The first thing you got to do, Marcus, you got to mash your tits and then you got to fuck that ass. Most babies come from the ass. And you got to fucking, that's the only way to do it. You think it's shit, it's a baby. No.

And you're just like, yep, my sounds are out to me. Thank you. Now, I hope your brothers subscribe the miracle of life. I got it, mom. I got it. You don't got to worry about me no more. Here's another one. Here's another one about the precious beginnings of life. Oh, nice. That's nice. It's called the baby doll by unknown. Whoa. Much like Sufi. Who's Sufi? He's the writer actually, so they do know. Oh, okay.

So it's not unknown. Well, you know what I mean. Anything that's unknown, I would compare it to. Okay. Baby doll. In rural southern Illinois, a toy company began selling realistic baby dolls to expectant mothers. Surprisingly cheap. Yeah. I bought a bunch for Goodpud, and they are like, honestly, it's really nice, because they're only like 30 to 35 bucks a pop, which I think is probably good, because it's like, can you imagine just like,

upselling the lady who just had a miscarriage. You could spend a lot of money on those things, though. You could be like, hey, I know I just lost your baby, but don't you want a platinum tier reborn baby? You know, like this one goes goo-goo-ga-ga and can say I miss you in heaven. I bet there are some expensive ones. We actually had, I think, an entire roundtable episode where we got really deep into reborn babies. I feel like the

I think that inflation has finally ended in the reborn baby world. Yeah, the market leveled off. I think the market leveled off because I think mostly people were really mad again. It's like when they sell you a titanium casket. Yeah. Oh, yeah, that's rude. Wow, yeah. They can go up to $3,000.

What in the living fuck does a $3,000 reborn baby do? Let's see here. If it talks, it better fucking do my calendar. Babies don't talk. Wow, look at that thing.

Whoa, that is realistic as hell. Yeah, full silicone, reborn, high quality, extra soft. Whoa, we should put that on the credit card. Oh, we could do morality pranks with it. That's what I've always wanted to do. You leave a baby at the train station, you film him far away, and you see how people react. You leave a train on the edge of a bridge, and you see how people react. Or you leave it on top of a car while you're driving out of a parking lot, and you see how people react. Is that legal? Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah, scaring people isn't illegal. Yeah, this is still America. Oh, God, look at this one. A high-end, child-sized money-worn doll for $1,900. We have completely derailed... That looks like a real baby. That baby is literally dressed like a man from Charlotte in finance. There is no reason a baby needs to have a thermal vest and Nikes. It's just like, this baby... I mean, that is real. Look at... Yeah, but no baby is that well-dressed.

Some babies are well-dressed. Not this baby. No babies are that well-dressed. This baby looks insane. What baby have you met that's dressed for fucking corporate Zoom? Which baby have you met? Let me say this. Try not to meet babies. You love children. With mustard. In rural southern Illinois, a toy company began selling quote-unquote realistic baby dolls to expectant mothers.

But apparently after the mother had her child, the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the rocking motion advertised to calm it down wouldn't work and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying, the parent would have to beat it and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. And the only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was to bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism was triggering the crying.

Okay.

Oh. So she killed a bunch of babies. Yeah. I got really distracted by checking out more reborn adults. Yeah, yeah. These is actually way scarier. Yeah. These are way scarier. The reborn dolls are way, way scarier. That one's eyes are too big. It is JD Van's eyes. Yeah. It is $4,000, though. $4,000? It's hot. You're freaking out better eyes. $4,000 and 239 five-star reviews. What does it do?

the saddest person in the world giving each one of these Reborn babies for like trying them out. They're trying them out to see if I feel like, oh, I don't feel like killing my husband anymore. 239 reviews. Yeah. 239. That makes 239 people not only bought it, but loved it. Loved it so much. At least 239. Now my questioner

I love things that I buy on Etsy all the time, and I don't leave reviews. Never leave reviews. If you have a $4,000 replacement fetus, right, that you're carrying around all day, eventually when it doesn't grow, like, do you sell this back? Is there a resale market for this, like Flight Club for shoes? Do they depreciate? But the thing is, they don't grow. So you're just stuck there.

With an infant forever. We're going to get so many emails. Sidestoreslpotl at gmail.com. I know that they are used to help mourning women. And I'm not saying women who like to get up early. I like night, oh. Debt. I beat you. I beat you, you fuck.

But I know that it's to make them feel better, but it does seem in many ways like it's extremely haunting. I feel like it's something to guarantee that you're going to go crazy. Because I remember I've told the story many times when I used to temp one time. I remember I was at this empty cubicle and they all came to me like, oh, it's so good to have somebody new here. And I was like, oh, you know, I'm working, whatever, just temporarily temporarily.

And they're like, the lady you used to live here was a little, used to be in this cubicle, was a little strange. And I was just like, well, what do you mean? She's like, well, one time we came and we noticed this lady had all of these, like, wonderful pictures of her daughter dressed in all these little outfits all over the inside of her cubicle. Like, this little baby daughter looking, was asleep. That's nice. And they said, like, oh, you know, like, eventually someone asked her, be like, oh, your daughter, how old is she now? And she says, well...

she died in stillbirth. She died at birth. These pictures were all the pictures we took with her corpse immediately after. So I can have these special memories of her. So they took the dead baby, which I know is a whole thing. And they dress it up in a dress and they did makeup on it. And they took a picture of it. And, um, it's just rough at the office. Yeah. Like, I just feel like it's a lot. It's a rough cubicle to walk by. Yeah. It's just fired. Like,

No, you can't fire. Oh, no. Unfortunately, that's a promotion. That's like, oh, you just got promoted out of this office, lady. And there's a lot of what's called pre-loved reborn babies on eBay. Cool.

The word pre-loved? That's what they're called? Yeah, pre-loved. Used. Yeah, used. You can't say used. A couple of people say used. Can't you say adopt? I would say at this point, if you're buying a $4,000 Reborn baby, that's an adoption. Oh, no, these aren't the $4,000. These are going for like $150. Yeah, yeah.

They all got crayon on them and shit. No, because there's no kids. No, but you get the crayons. You try to put it in its hand and stuff. You try to teach it how to draw and you're like, oh, nothing's happening. I know it's morbid. You know the old expression, you shake a baby more than once, you're just playing with it. By the way, it's a lot of OBOs on eBay. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I prefer my baby stirred. I'm from North L.A.

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have a baby that grows up to be a child. This story would be for them. Great. Don't try talking to the Disney World mascots at closing time by J.R.T. McMahon. Oh, full name.

Well, J-R-T isn't a name, really. Jert. Oh, yeah, you're right. Jert McKenna. I think I was picked up by Jert on my way to the movie theater the other day in my Uber. My father was a Jert. My grandfather was a Jert. My grandfather was a Jert. I'm a Jert farmer.

Bad crop this year. Bad crop a jerk. Too wit. Too wit for sale. All right. I've always wondered who was behind the costumes. I was unfortunate enough to find out when I took my son on his first trip to Disney World.

Being a single father isn't easy. I work as hard as I can to provide for my child, but I need to make enough free time to be there for him. It's a rough balance that I and many others struggle to maintain.

It's so rare that I get a chance to spend the entire day with my boy or that I get a break from the stress. So when the opportunity arises, I try my best to make it a reality. I believe you're a father right now. I really do. And I do feel like, but this author was really mad about being forced to pay to go to Disney World at some point. And I think he imagines his wife is dead, but she's just gone. Yeah.

It's easier that way. So when my son David happened to come across a contest that boasted the chance to win a family package to Disney World, I set my sights on making it happen. His glee, while he filled in the necessary information, was almost enough to make my heart melt on its own. I wasn't naive. Things like that don't happen to us. After losing her, I learned that you can't count on things to work out for you.

After David submitted his form. Why is it funny? It's just wildly sad. And then there's the idea that you've got to try to win the contest at Disney. And he's all excited about it. And if you don't win, then you're not going. Which is even worse than not going in a way. Because it's like you got this shot. And because then you could also be like, things like that just don't happen for us. You remember your mother's leukemia? Yeah.

Get ready. It's going to be a lot like that. More of that. Expect a second helping of that. After David submitted his form, I started to scour my work schedule for an opening I could take and still be there to provide. Earlier mornings got earlier and my workload increased tenfold, but it would all be worth it. That's what I thought anyway.

The contest ran for a month and a half to give people time to send in their entries and me time to save up for two tickets. I stayed up on a night I had free and printed a mock-up letter saying that David had won the contest, stuffed it inside a white envelope, and placed it ever so gently inside our rusty mailbox. This guy fucking bitches too much. This guy's fucking sad as hell. Then all I had to do was wait for him to come home.

When I tell you this boy's whole world lit up like a 4th of July when he opened that letter. Man, I hope I never forget his smile. Thought he was gonna damn near rip his cheek open grinning that hard. Too happy! We set a date.

One where I could get three days off of work that I needed. Even though the trip was still a few weeks away, David was all packed and ready to go the night he received the letter. Why do this whole charade with the fucking contest? Why do all this? Yeah, you could just take your son. You could have just taken him to Disney. And have him be appreciative that you paid for the ticket. This is why I hate Santa Claus. Yeah, yeah. I bought the gifts. Yes, I think Santa Claus should bring other shit. Yeah, yeah. Like drugs. Like fucking money, yeah. Yeah.

Yeah, what an idiot. You're a moron. Yeah, man.

It was far too hot, and within a few minutes of walking around in the unrelenting sun, I could feel my sweat clinging to my clothing. It's Florida. David. He hates all of this. He hates it, yeah. He's got such a fucking, he's such a, the word is scooch.

Yeah, but the thing is, David wanted to see every bit of the park that he could. Yeah, it's Disney World. Yeah. You spent hundreds of dollars to go see it. You better see all of it. He would run up to every mascot. I could tell he was getting flustered with the ones that couldn't talk back. I could tell it was going to be a problem. I love my boy, but he isn't great at letting things go, you know? And I guess most children are like that, but...

The park was so loud, my feet started to hurt as we stood for unreal amounts of time. God, lying for one ride at a time. What's the point? Why did we even go? I wasn't there for me, though. I was there to spend time with David and watch him immerse himself in all of his favorite movies. We just listened to a transcript of someone's therapy session. Yeah, this is what this feels like.

Still, though, despite me trying to explain the mascot's silence, he continued to protest. I would have to walk up and pull him away from the silent animals. They're people in costumes. One time, David reached forward and grabbed onto Goofy's hand. The expression on David's face dropped and he walked back to me. His hand felt weird.

He said to me, yes, it should. It's actually a 47 year old Mexican man in there. I looked up at Goofy. I didn't care. They could be as animated as they want and as they wanted. But unmoving faces always gave me the creeps the way they could just stare forever. We didn't engage with many after David got creeped out and I couldn't really get an explanation out of him.

We still had far too many things to see anyway. We couldn't be stopping to talk to each and every make-believe character. David's mood slowly returned as we feasted on a monstrously expensive meal and went on for a few more rides. Jesus Christ, this is a description. Every opportunity to complain. We sat together as the sun had long passed since the horizon and watched the fireworks leap into the air.

The brilliant spectacle of colors and booms filled the park. And despite all of my complaints, there with my boy truly was the happiest place on earth. Oh, okay.

It would have been picture perfect if it wasn't for all the mascots that stood around us. With every glow of the various colors, their features were outlined and they'd fade into the dark. Are we in a novel right now? Are we in the fucking, what's a section? It was eerie. And I was glad David hadn't gotten scared.

Once the grand finale sent a seemingly endless stream of fireworks cascading into the sky, filling it with white, sparkling nights, I noticed the mascots had left. Then the fireworks ceased and our only lights were the sparse place lamps around the park and a bit more time of walking around until it was time for us to leave.

David said he needed to use the bathroom, so we started our search and the crowd was flowing like a river towards the exits. I was bumped on my shoulder and I turned to face a man who gave me a quick apologetic glance and that was all it took for David's hand to slip loose from mine. Looking back, I noticed I was alone, my head frantically swiveled, searching through the crowd.

My voice raised above the surrounding chatter as best I could, calling his name, and when I didn't hear a reply, I started pushing against the tide. My exhausted body brushed up against an ocean of others, and I tried to find a clearing, hoping the herd would thin out. My breath and my heart started to race in tandem as seconds felt like an eternity. Getting back to the pack, I could hear the distant and timid, "'Hello, hello,' swimming."

Under the conversations around me, David! It was David! I looked around like a madman, and once a few people were surrounding me, I could see that under one of the lights was none other than Mickey Mouse. Whoa, that's a hard one to get! Of course, I thought. Of course!

David would want to say goodbye to Mickey if he saw it. Sure. Seriously, though. Honestly, Mickey's the dumbest shit. This guy misspelled Mickey, by the way. He did. And Mickey's the dumbest fucking one. Mickey's the most dumb shit waste of a character in the entire fucking lexicon of Disney characters. He's the boss. Yeah, that's the problem. Who likes the boss? Donald Duck's the best. Donald Duck is the best. I like Goofy. He's wrong. Yeah, he is. Yeah, hoo, hoo, hoo. He's a great comedian. Yeah.

With the crowd dissipated, I quickly jogged to the oversized rodent, noticed that David had a small collection of tears under his eyes. I promptly asked him what was wrong, and he said that Mickey won't say goodbye to him.

This kid, man. The last thing I wanted was for David's final memory of the park to be a negative one. All he wanted was a goodbye. He's had a great time. I stood up straight and looked at the mouse and his saucer-sized black pupils and back at my son who was wiping his cheeks. Slowly, I stepped forward and leaned in towards the mouse ear and I did my best to keep a whisper my son couldn't hear.

Hey, you know, I know you're not supposed to, but even if it's the worst impression, just say goodbye. There was a moment of silence, and when I didn't receive a response, I started to pull away from Mickey. Daddy. David chimed in, and when I turned my head, I noticed that Goofy had closed in on us. The fuck? Looking back to Mickey in the dark, and when I stared into his pupils, it seemed like the dark...

They were made, it was swirling. That's cool, cool, that's fine. I told David that we should just get going, but he wanted to say goodbye and grab Mickey's hand, and then Mickey grabbed back. Be a father! Take your child out of the goddamn scenario! The grip must have been strong as David immediately started to struggle against and screamed for me. What the hell?! I shouted towards the rat.

I reached out to grab Mickey's arm, and when my hands made contact, I understood David's previous statement. Weird was the only word I could come up with, too. Wee-wee-weeled. Wee-wee-weeled. Super-weeled. Whatever was under the costume was much skinnier than a person should be. The mask I grabbed onto felt like it was constantly shifting around under my hands. It's a teenager. I wanted to leave the park, but I also wanted to give my son fond memories of it. I didn't want things to get physical, you know?

Yeah, it's a Disney World. What do you mean I didn't want things to get physical? Who says that before they go to Disney World? Things get physical. But I don't prepare myself like, alright guys, we're about to go into the fucking pit! There's a really good fight in Mickey's Toontown. Oh, it's one of my favorite ones. We know that one. It's a fun one.

I turned to look at David, but instead of being able to focus on calming him down, I noticed Goofy was walking closer to us. The illumination above the cast completely on the front of Goofy and the costume fabric was writhing, like hundreds of fingers were underneath the costume, all pressing the inside of it. That was enough! I just buy the kids some damn ice cream on the way home. I'm getting out of here! Let go of him or I'm gonna hit you, I warned.

I was tired, but the thing under my hands didn't feel like it had any muscle to speak of. Yet it continued its dead gaze into my eyes. Because they have to be very thin to get into thick costumes. David's cries echoing in my head, I reeled back and threw a punch toward the cartoon's head. I thought it had come completely off, but it was just hanging off of its shoulder, held together by a thin black string. A string that was moving around to pull the head back into place.

Mickey's grip loosened and David was able to wriggle free. But me, I could feel two light brown arms wrapping around me. Run to the exit, David! I exclaimed as I wrestled against the dog trying to hold me into place. What is happening? That's enough. A sweet voice commanded and a response as goofy pulled away from me. I adjusted my gaze to the female voice that saved me. Sorry, Mickey.

Night time is feeding time, she spoke. Oh, night time's a feeding time. I was beside myself as I looked into the face of Sleeping Beauty. The actor stood under the lamp across. He said actor, not actress, and that is progressive. Wow. Lamp across the path, and with her hands clasped together, Mickey and Goofy stepped away from us. Mickey, now with his head back on his shoulder, stepped into the shadow.

Sleeping Beauty walked forwards with an unwavering smile. We have to take care of our young, don't we? She spoke, looking at David, but clearly addressing me. But he's killing her father. What's your name, little guy? David looked back at me, back to Sleeping Beauty. David. He whispered. Oh, sorry. David. He whispered. Sleeping Beauty lowered herself to David's eye level and gave him a nice toothy smile.

Goodbye, David. She spoke soft and kind with one of her hands reaching out to hold David's hand. And good night. Raising back to meet my stare, she continued almost inhumane smile. You don't want to get that off of you, she pointed at my arm. There was what I first thought to be a strand of hair resting on my bare arm.

What I thought was hair then spread out and seemed to multiply until it was a scraggly clump of thick strands reaching around. I felt a small prick as a number of the strands seemed to try and wriggle their way into my pores. Quickly, I raised the other hand and grabbed the mass and I pried it from my arm and the strands continued to brace onto my skin. With enough effort, the tendrils were snapped open.

and I chucked the mask into the ground before it could latch onto my hand. The clump moved across the tiled road until it found Sleeping Beauty, who bent over and let it rest on her gloved hands. She nodded, and with that, I grabbed David's hand and once more pulled him towards the exit. His tears were gone, and all that was left was a satisfied grin. Well, I offered one more look back as we got to the exit.

They were all there, each mascot. We've come across the day stood in the dark watching us leave.

Our drive home was long. Quick for David, though. He passed out in the passenger seat, clutching one of his souvenirs we'd purchased so expensive. You almost got eaten by evil, shape-shifting Disney characters. Why are we so upset about the merch? I tried to get the images out of my head on the ride home, each strand of the hair in the car sending me into a mild panic until the wind pouring from the windows whisked it away.

I think what was most disturbing to me, even as horrific as the fur mascots were being held together by whatever the hell was inside there, was Sleeping Beauty. Her calm and collected attitude and most unnerving when she flashed that toothy grin at my son. The light above us perfectly bounced off of those pearly whites and the black strands that were poking out of the small gaps in her teeth.

David has never brought it up, despite me asking if there was anything he wanted to talk about, and he only reminisces about the positive experiences of that day. I'm not sure if we'll ever go back, but if we do, we'll be sure to leave before closing time. Why would you go back?

All he did was complain. He hated the entire trip. Not only did he complain the entire time, but he knows that Disneyland is filled with supernatural creatures that feed upon children at night. Yeah, and he's not calling anybody

He's even part of the problem. He literally left. You could fill out a common card. And it's not like that they left it, that they start feeding it like 2 a.m. It was as the crowd was leaving. The park wasn't even closed yet. They didn't give him a shot. Yeah. You know, it's not the best story. God help us. Oh, wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. The episodes, I will say.

The creepypastas might not be as impressive as they used to be, but I think we're just as impressive as ever. I mean, I think being the big one was pretty good. I think being the big one's pretty good. Yeah. Yours, again, it needs an edit. We need an edit. It just needs an edit. I really, like, I should have taken, it could have been half as long. You don't know. I sometimes do. This is a little, again, you want to hear some BTS? Yeah. Sometimes, when I'm going through the story, I just edit it as I go.

If I've read the story already, I just go through because... I'd say more than half of what I just read was unnecessary. You know what it is? It does teach you, though, about writing. It's all about information delivered. Why do we need these statements? In the end, him winning the contest to go to Disney...

had nothing to do with the rest of the story. If it had come back in some way, that would make sense. That's what I meant. I was expecting the whole time, like, the contest was like, you won being eaten. Yeah, that's literally... You just made that story good. Yeah, you're our slave now. You literally just made the story good. Well, it's just... That's the story. I just followed, like, a literary, you know, the Chekhov's gun. It comes back. Yeah, it comes back. That's...

me, that's my one lesson to the creepypasta people. But normally we have people, this is because we took these, these are mostly from strangers that have contributed. We normally do our list in the pasta, which we will do again in October for side stories where we will do contributed stories because I love getting our listeners self-written stories because they do great shit. They do. We have very, very talented people that listen to the show and they can do it.

These were not listeners. No. These were strangers. These are strangers. I'm sorry. I meant these weren't fucks. These weren't dirty, evil dogs. Thank you for reminding me. But we want to just take a little moment. Thank you, the listener. Because without you, where would we be?

Just fucking sucking her own dicks in a prison. Weren't you calling them pissiners earlier? Yes. Out of affection and love. But what we wanted to let you know is that, yes, this is a little bit of a stop in between because we are going to Australia for three weeks. Now we are. So I'm going to give you a couple of messaging things here, right? Which is number one, we are off our last stream on the left for two weeks. Yes. We're going to come back before we go on our summer break. Wish you guys were going to say, so that'll be good.

Nothing will be interrupted about your precious podcast feed. We're going to be doing podcasts in Australia. We have a, honestly, I'm really excited. We've got a studio booked out there. We've got a studio booked. We're doing something called Spooky Australia, which we've never really done before. Because normally we do true crime when we travel. And so this is the first time I'm really excited about doing paranormal in a country that's kind of weird about it.

Because in Australia, like, they have a whole thing. Like, in America, you kind of find certain things out as you go around. Which, like, America itself is actually very obsessed with the paranormal. And it's not so much everywhere else. But because of that, when you scratch the surface of something like this. Like, I have these two books called Haunted Australia. That is all of this shit that I've never heard before. And actually kind of interesting new poltergeist activity. Stuff that I haven't really. I'm really excited to get into. That'll be the next couple weeks. I heard Baz Luhrmann's.

Mother's a ghost.

Yes. Time did that. We are doing side stories from the road, and that's all while we are performing live for you in Australia. And we're going to be there. We're going to post it. We're going to show you when we're in town. Comment out to the shows. Lastpodcastontheleft.com by the shows in Australia. I can't wait to go back. I mean, once this episode comes out, we're going to be on a plane to New Zealand, to Auckland. Yes. So we cannot wait. Thank you, guys. And...

We're going to fucking, we can't, we're going to do it. Going to do it. We'll see y'all in Australia, y'all, and New Zealand. Hail Satan, goodbye, you dirty little dogs. Go to patreon.com slash lastpodcastontheleft.com to pay to watch us talk. Go to TikTok and Instagram for social bullshit at LP on the left. It's not hurting everybody.

And then go to lastpodcastandleft.com, buy tickets for our live shows. It's going to be fun. Yeah. That's right. Again, you dingoes. Whoa, that's actually the most dangerous animal in Australia. Yeah, it is. And you can go to eddytoons.com to get your Florida's Biggest Baby t-shirts. Yes. Hail Goofy, the greatest comedian of all time. Goofy is, yes. I just think Donald Duck is a more funny persona. He's an asshole! That's what I like about him. I'm just saying, Goofy never played Hitler.

No. And Donald Duck did, and he killed it. And that's good for you. But I will say. It was satire. Did you know that Goofy did Mengele, though? There we go. Oh, Will will die. The other twilled still live. Yikes. That's fun to do.

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Was that your attempt at the code? You already forgot the code, didn't you? I should have written it down. The place to safely send messages between different devices. WhatsApp. Message privately with everyone.