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This is exactly right. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the Masr, it's keep it short. It's little. Don't worry about it. And we read your stuff. Ready? OK. Do you have any gofers? Sure. Is that the most concise, tightest intro we've ever done verse I ever, ever done? Let's talk about it for a little bit.


This is unbelievable. What we just did now is the opposite of what we usually do, which is what I'm doing. We usually just talk and talk and like we talk about, you know, what's up with our week and everything.


And I go up and down. Your boyfriend gets upset. But now this time we're right to the because really, at the end of the day, when you think about it, OK, this title here is spooky Life Saving E.S.P toothaches.


OK. Hello. I'm an Aussie emergency nurse and my stories take place at work. It's a long, long story. Sorry, but it is about the sort of unexplained intuition we are all here for. So let's begin.


That's right. If it's if it's interesting, it can be long. Right.


Justify your own length with with your quality wit. OK. Doctor friend of mine was working late one night in the emergency department was absolutely slammed. He'd already worked a few hours overtime. When the doctor in charge asked him to see just one more patient before he went home, he scanned the list of people in the waiting room and for no particular reason, a name jumped out to him. He read the trio's notes, quote, presents with presents after dental surgery with an ongoing toothache.


The man was probably hours from being seen, but my friend thinking this would be a quick case, brought him in. The patient was obviously in pain, sweaty and grey. But when the doctor poked at the gap where his tooth had been removed, he didn't complain or even flinch immediately. Alarm bells are ringing. And sure enough, a few tests later, it was clear that this man was actually having a very severe heart attack. He was rushed for emergency surgery and survived, but may not have if he stayed in the waiting room.


Another two hours jump forward a few months. And I was working in the fast track area of the EDI's sort of like the patch and fixed spot. We were once again slammed and I was trying to bring in anyone with a problem that could be dealt with quickly. Again, I can't really explain why, but a woman's name stood out to me and I brought her in for assessment. She had a rash on her leg and had woken up feeling under the weather and had read in the paper about some exotic virus.


She was now sure she had the rash looked harmless, but during our conversation, she kept grabbing at her jaw. Oh, that's nothing, she said. Just a toothache. I asked her to humor me and let me run a couple of tests. And you guessed it, she was having a heart attack. So she was whisked away for surgery. And I know for sure she survived because a few weeks later she sent in a complaint because she had, quote, only wanted her rashes checked.


Oh, my.


My boss kindly pointed out that she probably wouldn't have been able to write an email at all if not for my care. But old ladies be old ladies. This this sort of thing happens all the time in hospitals, whether it's some secret force guiding our eyes to a particular name or we are just better at our jobs and we like to give ourselves credit for who can say. But I know there's one old lady who's ests. There's a little lady out there still writing strongly worded emails because of me as this DGM.


And thanks for the good times, Claire. Oh, my God.


You if she lived to complain another day.


That old lady. Wow. I bet it's just intuition at that point. Like, you just, you know, you see someone you see these little signs that don't even cross your mind. But you can, you know, hopefully I mean, yes, it actually makes me feel a lot better this whole except for the fact that they're trying to find quick patients. I don't know either that, but.


Well, you've got to fit him into your schedule. Not always about health, but I not gonna be easy and at some point.


But look, eventually only eight hours. But it does. I do. I agree. I like that vibe that there's something else going on that you're in.


Your instincts kick in when you work that job. Right. And almost like it's a ferryman, you can smell where this person's actually in danger. There's something else going on. You're not conscious of it. Did you ever watch Nurse Jackie?


Yes, I really liked it. I just didn't like the personal stuff. That much personal stuff. Yeah.


Like, I like I want to just wound's cauterizing.


I wanted, like, her drug addiction and I don't know, I just didn't like her so much. Yeah, she is a real asshole. And I just hated the like the weird doctor who would grab women's breasts. That's one of deadlocking storylines. When he got nervous around women, he would control the, quote, grab a woman's breast. And it was just like, woo hoo!


What year was this made?


Yeah, I mean, in the 60s I. That did stop me in my tracks. But the rest, you know, it's Edie Falco who's like Supreme being and the I just loved that vibe because it really is like that. That's a function. It's like a functioning addict, which is a fascinating thing that they got really. Right. So that was way too hot for TV.


I love that fucking guy's face. He said he was too nice. I didn't like her. She was. This is not a regular episode. We'll know. Doctor, two hours.


And you couldn't for. OK. What? All right.


No, you were put a put a pin in that for later anyway, if you want to hear part two.


The Nurse Jackie debate come back.


You want to hear everyone's wronger, Jackie. We're gonna start a fam cult forum. We were being positive about her husband. That guy is fucking hot, hot and blank as fuck. I loved it. No, I. Yes. OK.


That time my professor testified in a murder trial. Greening's murdering cult leaders and companions. I like it. I'm a student in to my second year of veterinary school in Colorado and wanted to send in a story one of my professors shared with the class this semester. My pathology professor was giving us a lecture on necropsies and examining post-mortem for signs of animal abuse. Mid lecture, he went off on a tangent about how we could be asked to testify with our findings in court and proceeded to tell us this story.


One day my professor was asked to perform a necropsy on a cat. I think I got that right. Huh. And was asked specifically to run tests for cyanide poisoning as cause of death. After finding that cyanide was indeed in the cat system, he was asked by the police to present his findings to a judge and jury during a murder trial. Turns out the man who killed his mother by poisoning her with cyanide and then proceeded to cut up her body and hide it in, to quote my professor.


Those cheap Rubbermaid Tupperware containers which he kept in the back. Huh? Such just so depressed, I know. Which he kept in the back of his truck until he was caught by police. My professors testimony was used to prove that the man committed premeditated murder, practicing first by poisoning his cat crazy.


My professor matter of factly ended his story by saying so. Yeah, he was guilty and went to jail. I think he's dead now. Anyway, I thought you'd appreciate the story more than most of my classmates did. I'm working as a veterinary technician this summer and your podcast gets me through my drive home after standing for 11 hours and wrestling unhappy dogs all day. Oh, friendly reminder to all new Cauvin inspired pet owners out there that your local veterinarians are swamped with a massive tank with a massive increase in new pet adoptions during quarantine.


So please be patient with us while we help your animals. Also, please try to spend at least an hour away from your animal each day or they will develop massive separation anxiety after quarantine advice from vets. It's so good. Thank you both for brightening my days and making me laugh. Stay sexy and don't trust Tupperware contents.


MACKENZIE Well, yeah, a lot lot to digest in that story. There is an island. It is funny to think about people who have never had pets before who are like, why are that that's taking so long?


And like you and me know that it's always like that. It's there, you know. The second you buy a pet, it's the vet's world and you just live in it. They're going to you. Your favorite says randomly that cost six hundred and sixty dollars and you're gonna go. Thank you, sir. May have another hotel because I need to keep this mother fucker alive that needs to eat my shoes all the time.


Louise, you look at those Howard. Oh, brain just asleep like like like they have paper outs at five and now they're so exhausted they do nothing. Angels that actually that's very true about the over bonding with the pets. Yeah. Except for I have it.


The other day George and Frank got up and left the room at the same time and I was like, what is really letting this shit hurt my feelings? It is sometimes annoying when I'm like I have three cats and there's not a single one in the room right now. Like why do I have three cats if I'm not going my pants or I never I should never be alone when I'm sitting somewhere. I've made it so that I didn't have to. Yeah.


You you're not playing your part, correct? That's right. OK. My next story, subject line. CIA Grandpaw story. Yay! Yes. Now they're all coming out of the woodwork. Right. Hi, y'all. I was just listening to the July, July 6th. Many sold were Georgia about the story about the CIA grandpa. And I thought I'd share my own CIA grandpa story. Come in. It's been a longtime family joke that my grandpa was in the CIA and that we would find out for sure when he died.


He was a, quote, international lawyer in Paris. Oh, yeah. Hire a career good 100 percent. And spent most of my mom and aunt's childhood traveling all over the place, but especially to Northern Africa for work. Growing up, I would always ask him if he was in the CIA and he would always respond by saying, if I was, I wouldn't tell you dad was our dad.


I read that incorrectly. If I was, I couldn't tell you. Could I? That's a more polite version of how they'd say it. My family. I'm not telling you, my dear child, MYOB. Two years ago, my girlfriend did Christmas with us. And being a good journalist, she is made sure to sit at the dining table with my grandpa for hours, asking him questions about his life and his career. And his stories did not disappoint.


One of my favorites was how he used to travel to Algeria all the time for work. Wow. Wow. He flew there so frequently that the airport security agents knew who he was and would always let him through without the customary bribe. One day my grandpa in Paris got a call from a friend saying that his son was in Algeria and for whatever reason, he couldn't get out of the country. My grandpa immediately got on a plane to Algeria because he'd been there.


So much for business. He told the kid to meet him at the consulate building where he picked up the kid and two one way plane tickets that were waiting for them at the airport. He just slipped the airport security some money. And so he and this kid could get on the plane back to Paris and all was well. Wow. My grandpa died in February. And while we still don't know for sure whether he was in the CIA, a bunch of men I've never seen before who said they were in the American Foreign Legion with him, showed up to the funeral.


My grandpa was always the person people would call if they needed help. And unless you met him, you can't really describe the impact he had on everyone he met. Not to mention he welcomed my girlfriend.


We're a couple of gay or a couple of gays. Oh, my God, that's so sweet.


He welcomes my girlfriend into the family with open arms and lips. Lovely. He and my grandma met while they were in law school, and my grandma was one of the three women in our class to actually sit and pass the bar only to then to never practice law and become a painter and model in Europe instead. Family is so sex anticipating. One of the other three women was none other than Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who my grandpa's always been secretly jealous of.


I secretly married too.


I know, I'd say I hit it, says Grandpa. But I would think it would be grandma would be secretly jealous of the grandpas in Algeria doing his thing. It says gravely that he got. She got so famous. Oh, yeah. Maybe. I'd say I hit the grandparent lottery. You're right about that. Stay sexy and ask your grandparents questions. Ivy.


Ivy, the first thing I think of is you need to marry that girl because what a rad girlfriend. If you can bring a partner to a family party and they can, like, do their thing and talk to your grandparents. And that's a cool person. Yes. They know how to be. They know how to handle any more of those people in our lives. Hallelujah. That was a great one. This might be one of my favorite stories.


It's shit. It reminds me of the town on fire story. Really, no matter what you say now, I mean to say I don't like it.


I don't really like. I didn't really like that. I didn't like that. OK. This is called poisonous jello rain. Oh, shit. Hey y'all. My grandpa is currently in the process of moving. So we've all been doing a lot of house hunting. One place we found was in Oakville, Washington, south of Puget Sound. We didn't know much about Oakville, so we researched the town a bit to see what it's like. What we got was a very exciting and honestly Papeete perplexing surprise.


Turns out Oakville is famous for the most bizarre weather anomaly I've ever heard of. Gelatinous blob, rain white. And I just want to say for the fuckin record, aliens, I'm 100 percent behind aliens that this is the cause. Ready?


I'd say local, local chemical company. Yeah, me. Maybe there's you got to hear the weird fuckin things. No, no. I'm deciding already.


Do I. OK. On August seven, 1994. At about three a.m., the first bout of jello rain began to fall. It was clear like normal rain, but much unlike normal rain, it was gooey to the touch. It smeared in windshield wipers and looked vaguely like mushy hailstones on the ground. This unsettling precipitation fell six times over a three week period and covered 20 square miles. Oh, but that's not the weirdest part. Not only was this rain texturally fucked, but also those who came in contact with it fell very ill.


They experienced shortness of breath, vision loss diverted.


Jesus, I think I have it. You have it now. They experience shortness of breath, vision loss, vertigo and nausea, which lasted for months for some. Several pets also died after being exposed to the goop. Samples of the rain goo were tested and found to contain human white blood cells. Two kinds of bacteria and UKAR Roddick.


Cells that suggest it was part of something alive. But to this day, no one knows what the fuck fell from the sky. Theories include jelly fish bits blown into the air by bomb tests. Why would there be human DNA? A great question. Bio warfare experiments and waste from airplanes. But none of these fit perfectly. I'm calling aliens. They said they said it. And I agree. Needless to say, we were pretty unenthused about buying a house there after reading all that.


But I was naturally fascinated and immediately thought to tell you folks about it. Smart got my info from the Unsolved Mysteries Wicky and there are plenty of articles about it if you want to check it out for yourselves. You can't make this shit up.


Stay sexy and don't move to Oakville. Lyla from Seattle.


Human fuck that is blood cells.


Oh, human blood cells. That's right. Not human DNA. That is so unnerving. The consistency element of it is very upsetting. I want to know that the bacteria has to the end. Like, I wonder where the bacteria has been seen before. I wonder what the hell you car erotic cells means and if I'm saying it right. So many questions. Kind of sounds like the Eucharist like little. There's bodies of Christ. A man in there.


Yeah. Lyla. Lyla. Great. Great job. Great. Amazing. Great. What's it called. Instinct on sending it into us. Guys want more like that.


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OK, my last one here. The subject line is little hands mystery solved. Oh, yeah. Hey, MFM fam.


When I listen to this week's many Soden, Keryn read the letter about the girl on spring break who woke up with the mysterious handprints on her legs that got darker over a few days and eventually revealed tiny hands. I was cracking up. I'm no doctor, but I think I may have sold her unsalted this.


I've been back and forth with my son's pediatrician all week about a mysterious rash on his hands and arms. I have a feeling this girl would have received the same diagnosis as my son. It turns out that my son has cyto photo dermatitis, which is a skin reaction to citrus juice and oil on the skin, which is then exposed to sunlight and creates a bad burn. This makes sense because he was making lemonade outside with his grandma before the rash appeared.


Some of the marks appear like splatters on his arm. Some look like spills and others like fingerprints. Our doctor told me that this condition is also commonly called margarine marguerita dermatitis because people often get this while they're mixing Margarita's outside in the sunshine. I would be willing to bet that these girls were probably spending their spring break sunbathing poolside, squeezing limes into their beers. And Marg's without a care in the world. The fact that her college brain went straight to must be a ghost is kind of hilarious because it's very murder.


It is kind of hilarious and very murder, you know, minded of her. I'm sure telling her ghost story is probably way more fun at parties so she can take it or leave it. Yeah. Happy, happy summer. And remember, stay sexy and wash your hands, especially after making lemonade and Margarita's Aneka. That's for Anneka. I'm not sure that is so simple. And I would like to tell the handprint girl that she is she has our permission to not have listened to that story just now to put her ear fingers in her ears, say, la, la, la, la, la.


She's telling your go story where when you go to parties again, it is a better story. It's so creepy. It really stays with you. The idea that it's just from your drinking and you probably didn't even remember touching your thighs that much is a whole different kind of spooky. Yeah. So pick it, you know, pick. It's like a different party. Different story. Yeah. And it turned out that could be a good one too, like I thought I had.


And then it turns out that's good too. OK. That way you get to talk extra long at the party. OK. This is just the hometown story. Hello friends. My grandfather on my mom's side died when I was around nine years old. It hit me hard because he was the one good male role model in my life. We were devastated because he was a grumpy but wonderful old man who could barbecue a mean Raccah ribs, but also because my mom was pregnant with my younger brother at this time and they never got to meet.


About a year or two later, my brother was starting to walk and do all sorts of toddler things. We were just leaving a Mexican restaurant. We went to often and we grab peppermints from the front like usual. We got in the car. Each of us unwrapping our mints and sucking on them. Then my baby brother, who barely knew how the world works, said, what cigarette?


Want cigarette pointed and pointed his baby finger at a peppermint in my mom's hand. One cigarette. This made her freeze. This was because my grandpa and grandma had a problem with smoking for years. When I was born, they decided to kick the habit for good because they didn't want me growing up around cigarette smoke. My grandpa had a lot of trouble, so every time he wanted a cigarette, he'd eat a peppermint. Thus he came to call them his cigarettes.


My brother was a sweet baby angel who had no idea what a cigarette was. This convinced my mom that ghosts were real and that the ghost of my grandfather stuck around so he could see my baby brother.


Crazy. Want cigarette?


Yeah, I'm not I'm not sure if I'm sold on Ghost yet, but the idea that my grandparents are still around in some capacity brings a special warmness to my heart. So maybe I'd like it.


I'd like to believe it just for that. That's insane. I know. So before I finish writing this, I just want to say thank you for all you do. I have ADHD and it's very hard for me to focus. So I'm usually listening to your podcasts to help me focus. I've become more confident in my abilities as a bad ass young woman. And I'm glad that you've created a space where people who are interested in true crime can feel so empowered and included.


Hey, Stacey. And don't get murdered. But if you do, maybe haunt your loved ones for a while and teach a toddler what a cigarette is. Definitely. And then it's just a little heart. NO-NAME Oh, yeah, that was great.


There's that sweet cigarette one.


And the mom's like glue chokes on the peppermint and then hand maybe a cigarette.


That's like I wa I need one too. That was trippy. Oh my God. What a good batch. This was a real plan. I love it. Love a grandpa story. I have I had some good ones this week that I still haven't used. I'm excited he is next week. Guys, good job.


What a show. And you're the ones that make it possible. Sending your hometowns to us at my favorite murder. Dot com, dot at g mail backlash.


Let's flash forward slash promo code hard in the murder journey.


That's murder 30, murder 30 to get 15 percent off your own story that we take and read to you. That's right. Great song. Sexy and don't get murdered. Go.


Elvis, do you want a cookie?