This is exactly right. Hello, hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the many soad, here you go. We believe it. Can you that we read you your stuff, we read it right into your ear hole and there and that's how this podcasting thing works.

And that's what people come back for week after week and earhole massage from our vocal cords to your, you know, what do they called the little things inside your ear.

They're like the there's like a horn and a harp or something. There's little cones now. The throbs and cones are in your eyes. Sighs Oh, your doctors are screaming at right now. Please enties rep Rappard with this one. Am I thinking of the bread basket on the operation game? And I'm totally wrong about this. I think there's something in our ear that's shaped like a thing. It's definitely like a like a wishbone. Yeah.

So you want any help on this or even as I said on the desk, Steven, when you got your your, your degree sickle and hammer.

Oh that's oh that's in Russia. You have that. Yeah. Yeah. Steven you don't moonlight as an anti.

Steven you told us, you said the last time you were looking in my ear with that little weird thing with the light in it, you said, oh Karen, I've been looking for this video to send you because our new our pimple popping video thing is dogs getting the hair taken out of their ears.

Oh, it's so great.

There's like a unwrite. It there's like a sub Reddit called oddly satisfying. That's like just fun to watch, you know. And there was this fucking poodle. I can't find it. And they just like pulled this at a groomer's, pulled this and the dog you could tell the dog like the dog. Yes. Shells.

And I can't find it. So you can see my insane Google search of poodle satisfied because, like, the shit that's coming up is not right. But Poodle Chill's poodle chill's right. No Poodle Chill's OK. You want to go to Giles all day?

Sure. The subject line of this is suppressed memories found nineteen years later. Right. Hey, Butties. Oh, that's a great one. OK, thank you. I grew up in central Minnesota, essentially farm country and now I live in northern Minnesota Lake Country last week and I went home to see my parents and we decided to go out to a movie on the drive. We were discussing how I've always had crazy good long term memory, just fun stuff to pass the time.

And what do you like about me?

Well, brag that you can do that around your parents still, just like they'll indulge yourself in your high self worth. That's right.

What's what's something about me that you find very impressive? Why are you remember sort of me being your child?

Yeah. Why do you what do you get that look in your eye when you look over at me? Oh, it's your memory almost entirely.

We talked about all different people and places from my childhood. My parents were shocked. I knew any of the things I brought up, like the time I fell off a boat when I was two and almost died. No one. One thing I always remembered was the farm accident that happened in our community. When I was around three or four years old, there was a family that lived probably five minutes from us. The dad was giving his kids a ride in the bucket of a bobcat when one of the little boys fell out and was run over.

Oh, no.

Yeah, and he did not survive. It was a story that we had all heard and feared. And once I got older, the other siblings and I rode the same bus. The older sister was always mean to me, but I always thought she was just bitter about her little brother's death. I'm sure it would be horrible for any child to grow up in that type of trauma.

I've seen that poor dad like the Gilt's.

OK, so after bringing up this memory, my parents looked at each other like they were about to break the worst news possible. My mom looked at me from the rearview mirror and said, Is that seriously all you remember? I said, Yeah, why? And my mom says to me, Honey, he was your best friend. You guys went to daycare together and you even talked about marrying each other. You did everything together. You are inseparable.

I was absolutely shocked. I never not I never not remembered significant memories like that. I even remember memories of that day care from when I started there when I was only two.

I legitimately have poodle chills right now. Poodle? Yes. For real. Yeah, because it's like that's what little kids brains like. It's like, nope, not doing it. I'm amazed. I don't even remember knowing him. It's like a missing puzzle piece was found, but I can't precedent to make it work. I think my subconscious has suppressed it so far down because a kid that young can't comprehend a trauma like that. Yeah. Knowing what I know now, I can't help but think my relationship with the older sister was so bad because of my connection to her brother.

Yeah, she may have been upset because I didn't remember him or that I just reminded her of him. Or maybe she was just a mean older kid. Who knows? All I know is that our subconscious is a fucked up black hole filled with fantasies and trauma. I think this is. That's true, I think this probably was my first true experience with death and maybe why I'm so interested in tragedy in the circumstances surrounding it anyways, I'll stop treating you like my therapist and go talk to my real one.

I hear I got her turned on to this podcast, by the way, L'Oréal thank you for being you. SSD, GM Ashley from Minnesota. And then the P.S. is her inviting us to her wedding?

Oh, yes. Oh, my God. That's so touching.

Yeah, that's I mean, isn't that fascinating? And like the reveal, those parents must have just been like, oh my God. Yeah. And to hear that and just have no memory of it, especially at such good memory to begin with. Yes. They'd be so creepy. Man, this is called the time I solved my family's not so cold.

Cold case. Oh, hi, ladies. Last week my boyfriend and I were visiting my parents over dinner. My boyfriend made a remark about my murdering tendencies becoming our unofficial third wheel, to which my mother responded. Well, if you want a case to solve during the 1950s, your grandfather's brother, Houston, your great uncle, left to run errands one evening but was found stabbed to death in a ditch the next morning. No one in the family knows who did it or why.

And then all caps. Excuse me, mother.

The same woman who calls every morning to tell me exactly what she made for dinner the night before somehow left this detail out. Mm hmm. Well, you're good at the computer. I'm sure you could find something good.

Think she said you're good at the computer, honey, that I was up for the challenge using the online sleuthing tools instilled in me by Billy Jensen as well as well as Ancestry.com. What's up? Newspaper archives and a glass of wine acting as my Watson, I sure locked the shit out of it. And only to find out what my mom and her siblings had been told throughout the years was far from the truth for a reason. There were no errands he ran.

There was no doubt she was found in and there was no longer a mystery of who killed Uncle Houston. On the evening of August 13th, 1953 in Washington, DC, Uncle Houston, thirty nine, was managing a local restaurant when he was stabbed to death with a butcher knife in just one strike to the chest at the hands of Dorothy, the waitress who was twenty eight. Why, at first I assume this happened inside the restaurant. However, it happened in the basement of the restaurant, not just a basement, but the basement apartment they lived in together.

Oh, the fact that they were living together was my first red flag.

As Houston had a wife and three children in Virginia at the time of his death, this also made sense as to why the story was possibly changed by family throughout the years. Mm hmm. According to Dorothy, how she got upset with her earlier in the day as he, quote, didn't like the way a customer touched her on the shoulder. So, yes, they were definitely banging. This caused tension to build between them during the day. And when evening came, Houston's temper grew out of control.

He struck her with his fists and threatened her with the same butcher knife she later killed him with. After the stabbing, Dorothy was held on a charge of homicide. From the research I did of my great uncle, I did notice that he had quite a trail of women, I'm sure for a reason. Personally, I'm Team Dorothy on this one. Sorry, sorry. Uncle Houston, please don't haunt me. The old restaurant is now replaced with a bar and I have every intention of getting a free cocktail out of the.

Hey, my great uncle was stabbed to death in your basement. Yes. Stay sexy and get those skeletons out of your family's closet for them.

Laura Wow. Now, right.

If he had a secret, if he had a secret girlfriend live in lover lady, then he was probably the jealous type because he was the cheating type. Totally, right. Yeah. So why wasn't that self defense if he was beating her up and the night he threatened her with the knife too. Yeah. So it's probably wise. It didn't say if she got convicted or anything like that. I'm assuming she probably would have hopefully gotten off from self-defense, but.

Yeah, I hope so. Yeah.

This one starts pandemic greetings. My little brother was born premature and spent much of his young life in and out of hospitals. Needless to say, I hated him.

A what I expect, but that's understood is a beautiful term, a beautiful comedic turn right away. And I'm thinking of like a four year old, if it was a 16 year old, to be like, what the fuck is wrong with you? But yeah, that's OK.

Any time my mom said she was taking him to the doctor, I would lie in the in front of the door and scream because that meant they weren't coming back for at least a couple days. Oh, he always needed something special.

He always got more attention, you know, sibling shit. So for first grade, my brother transferred to my elementary school late in the year. His teacher got an injury on his face, which required a handful of stitches to ease the kid's worries. The teacher talked about how he got the Auchi and how stitches work and so on. He then asked the kids if any of them had ever needed stitches. A few raised their hands, including my brother.

When it was his turn, he raised his shirt and showed everyone the long raised horas. A little scar that runs below his ribs from surgery meant to keep him from regurgitating everything he put in his stomach when his teacher asked him how he got that scar. He looked him straight in the face and said, oh, my mom tried to kill me.

Yes.

I was immediately summoned from my fourth grade classroom. My parents were called to the school, the police and the D.C. first came.

Good. That's how it's supposed to go. Yes. Yeah, it all got sorted out. I don't think anyone thought my mom actually tried to kill him, but we were just enough into the niños for them to take it very seriously.

Yeah, that was the advent of that. Totally. To my brother's credit, he may really have seen all his surgeries as my mom trying to kill him. But anyway, that's the story of the time my brother accused my mom of attempted murder. A worthy addendum, though my mom didn't stab my brother. I did with a fork on his third birthday right in the forearm while he was receiving happy birthday wishes on the phone.

My mother, I told you I hated that kid stays sexy. Don't stab your siblings and wear your damn masks. I love you both more than is reasonable. Taylor Taylor.

That is fucking hilarious. And it makes me a little bit better about my sister because she only punched me in the stomach, but I was like 10 and probably deserved it. Look, we all deserved everything and we all also were true victims to our older sisters who are the worst people on the planet.

There is nothing more upsetting or the worse. We're we're now we're the victims of the worst people. They were. They were. Yeah. Yeah. Not now. Yes. No, we're you're right. I see what you're doing.

You're saying they were in case you said they worked out because they hate our guts in there. They don't care.

They're not fans of ours. They never have been since day one. It's true.

We always love what you did to your siblings or what your siblings did to you, that now you look back and you're like, oh, you were trying to kill me. We love those stories. So send those and fess up. Yes, OK. My second one is called Check Your Addicks before losing your virginity.

Who says Oh, everything. Yes. Oh, hello. Long time fan cheers to college dropouts. We're all just getting through. Let's cut to the chase. Whoa. So we all know virginity is a social construct designed to shame women.

A fucking man. I love you already. This is starting very strong. But here's the story of how I lost mine.

My high school boyfriend live in a very ritzy suburb of Chicago and a house big enough to sneak girls. And then it says, hey, in and out without even having to whisper.

But for our first time, we wanted to make sure no parents would be home just in case we had a half day of school. We went to his place, had a not at all had not at all mind sex. Yep. I went out to meet up with friends. So totally normal. Right, wrong. What he hadn't told me was that that morning as he was getting ready, he noticed a guy in a van parked across the street.

This was the kind of suburb in which no one ever parked on the street, not even landscapers or contractors. So this was already odd. But what made it weirder was this man was staring at my boyfriend's house, being a teen, about to have sex.

My boyfriend didn't think about this whatsoever, even though I know even as the guy watched him get into his car and drive off to school, it turns out this man had been in the middle of robbing his house when we came home. Oh, shit. Being the giddy fools we were, we just went straight up to my boyfriend's room and didn't notice anything else in the house. The robber was upstairs grabbing his mom's jewelry at the time. So when he heard us come in, he scurried up to the attic and hid out right above our room until we left hearing everything.

If they thought you were alone and they were like making sure they were alone to experts to be special.

And there was a fucking burglar in their house at the time who was jerking off to them, doing fucking lewdly into old boxes of grandma's quilt. And then he was steal. And then it's like this isn't mind blowing, but I can still jerk off.

He's like, Oh, I can't believe I'm still a virgin. So shame don't. It hurts men too. Don't expect anything special.

OK, let's see the first time because the worst does find someone is not a piece of shit of a real the kind and do like ta ta to seventeen more times right now. Yeah. The cops said that the thief had hit the neighbor's house before my boyfriend so maybe having to wait us out, save the rest of the block from being robbed to stay sexy and only fuck during robberies. Kate. And then she says also just some validation. In your last episode you talked about journaling and writing poetry.

And as a trained poet, that is exactly how most of us feel. Ninety five percent of the time, every metaphor is stupid and humiliating. And we're all idiots.

Alas. Kate. Wow. Good luck. No wonder Kate nailed this hometown. She is a poet. That's right. She's a trained poet. Right. I'm more of a Farrell poet.

I tried to say that. Right. Xeriscaping. That was. I almost spit those all over my computer. Got it.

That is.

So it's I want to hear his side of whoever you are down, dad, the robber. We need you to write him immediately. Look, I did this. It was almost it started as a lark then. I like breaking a knife and I look. Drugs are expensive and we need them sometimes it. But Jesus. And this one time. What if he was just like this, like sweet couple who wanted to lose their virginity together and like, get me to change my ways?

I didn't jerk like, jerk doctoring it. But then I also went home to my girlfriend. I was like, let's let's do this. I want to marry you. Yeah. I was like I jerked off. I felt a profound sense of self love. Right. Not just literal, but also deeply inside. I realized I deserve love to. Yes, I just. And crime wasn't the way and heroin wasn't the way. He's like he goes and hides in the attic and then three minutes later he's like, all right, well, we're all done here because I wasn't like I was in there for twenty minutes and was literally three minutes.

Did not even break a sweat. Not at. Hey, Karen. Yes, solving a crime, I want to tell you something, solving a crime involves paying attention to the smallest details and putting together all the pieces of the puzzle.

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Yeah, me, me, Karen. I am the Meimi of this podcast. OK, I'm not going to read you this subject line of this last one because its story is going to tell itself.

Hi, ladies, staff and animals singing backup. Oh, perfect.

Right? It literally I'm a huge fan of the podcast. And when I heard your call for you stories, I begged my husband to tell his tale. Here it is. I've kept this postal story silent for over twenty five years. Even now, it's hard to admit I was the culprit. The events I'm about to describe are embarrassing and might have gotten me into a lot of trouble at the time. Now that I'm retired and beyond the reach of postal justice, it's time to come clean.

Here's my confession.

Oh my God, I'm so excited. So essentially we started with one voice, but now we're in, I believe, to the husband's voice. OK, I think OK, that's what it sounds like. OK, in the 90s, I worked as a letter carrier at the main post office in Novato, California. Now by the bay, that literally is the town, the south of Petaluma. Oh, it's the next town down. And half the kids that went to my high school lived in Novato and commuted up the freeway to our school.

OK, so Nevado is like, what's like your What's up? San Warren Boulevard. Like Nevado Nevado, they have a Denny's. There's not a ton to say about it and a lot of my family lives there to this day. OK, AVADO, there's not a ton to say about it tomorrow. It's fine to pass on the freeway. The Nevado now they have a drive thru Starbucks I believe.

I mean ok, every carrier spends the first part of each day working in the office, sorting mail and preparing their route for street delivery. At the time, there were more than 60 mail routes in Novato. Every carrier and clerk work together in one large room about the size of a supermarket. We all worked in close proximity with almost nothing separating our workspaces. One morning I was sorting letters and feeling a little gassy. Not wanting to leave my workstation.

I silently released a small fart.

I'm ready. I'm ready for the. Usually I could get away with this, perhaps my diet.

Oh, sorry, I'm a child. Perhaps that's my diet. But very few of my farts have been any have any noticeable smell. Congratulate congratulations. Eating yourself right. This one was different.

I don't remember what I had been eating, but when this fart hit the air it was about the worst thing I'd ever smelled in my life.

Oh my God. When you know, when your own farts gross you smells bad to you to eat you. You ate like a half a dead raccoon the night before or something along those lines. Right.

The odor soon spread to my surrounding coworkers. There was an immediate reaction. People gagged their eyes.

Oh, what is the odor spread more and more. The people stopped working and fled. I might have been found out immediately, but it didn't smell like anything that could have come from a human.

No one even suspected it was a fart. People begin speculating it. It must be some sort of chemical leak. Oh, my God. It was it dangerous.

Management was called and the building was my mail processing in AVADO came to a halt. This was now costing the Postal Service thousands of dollars. Every carrier would be working overtime. Everyone in town would get their mail late. I never said a word. No, if I could just keep a straight face and my mouth shut, this was all going to pass without anyone ever knowing the truth. Then we heard the sirens.

Know, the fire department arrived along with the hazmat team workers for hazmat suits entered to inside the building. Holy shit. Although they were unable to determine the source of the smell, the inspection revealed several significant health and safety code violations. In the end, more than one hundred thousand dollars was spread spent bringing the building into compliance. Well, that's good. Strangely, I felt a bit of pride.

We were all safer as a result, and though we'll never know for sure, in the end that part may have saved lives then it just as Erica and Anderson Springs, that is the most epic fart ever fucking happened.

And the guts to just stay quiet and be like, is that it?

Like just playing along with whatever the person next to you says, gang humiliation in your mind? Oh, no more to like. What's wrong with you. Oh my God. And what's in there? It's getting worse.

Siren That reminds me a name, but there was like an office building like ten years ago where like someone no one would fucking clean the fridge out. And someone finally opened it and there was toxic fumes and people like passed out and they had to get like hazmat people to clean out the fridge, you know, because it was just old old cream cheese and fucking disgusting.

And it like people got sick and had to go to the hospital yogurt with a Post-it that said, this is Georgias, do not touch and stuff like that.

I mean, it was my butt, but it was four years ago.

Oh my God bless. So good for the visual of people coming in in hazmat suits like it's fucking the end of E.T. but it's because you farted at your workstation is like it might be the nightmare that we're going to fart and not think of that again.

And that happens a lot. So what do you think about that? A lot in my life. Sirens, sirens. And it's not that far. Oh, my God. I'm telling Vince about this. That's hilarious. OK, I have one more. OK, this is it's just starty. Friends, I'll take that liberty. Maybe your overreaction park stories. I hope not, because my mom has a story about how it ruined her chances of snagging a cute medical student.

Oh, it was the eighties. And she told her father a classic, laughing at my own jokes, dad, that she was going on a date to the place he so often referred to as Accident Park. Again, guys, what is it called? Action Park on HBO epic. The guy was a future doctor. She was a young Jewish woman from Long Island.

This was huge.

Oh, the day was going well when she decided to go on a water slide into a pool on a date, a bathing suit date. Can you imagine what with a doctor must.

She must have been. Yeah, they must have been like young and fucking. She remembers some uninterested teenage teenager waving people down the slide. Well, that dumb boy was sending far too many people down the slide after her too quickly. And they all log jammed midway down with my mom towards the bottom of the oh water slide.

A huge wave came and pushed the crowd down the slide with my tiny mother at the helm. She was slammed to the bottom of the pool with everyone on top of her. She hit her head and with the massive limbs around her, she didn't even know which way was up to get er. But luckily, instead of panicking, she remembered what a lifeguard once told her at her local beach. If you can't tell which way is up, just release your muscles and your body will naturally float towards the surface.

Yeah, that's amazing that she was able to do that.

She thought also same with release some bubbles and the bubbles go the right direction from screaming. She thought the worst was over when she broke through the surface and could breathe again. Spoiler alert. Nope, my mom tried to play it cool and she met up with her date. Definitely not like her life flashed before her eyes and pretended she was having to go on another ride.

But her day was like, let's just stroll around the park. Her face was throbbing, but again she kept her focus on flirting. Hey, why don't we sit down? I'm getting kind of tired, he told her as she noticed her vision was getting blurry.

Oh, they sat there for a while chatting when she heard a familiar noise. Wait, is that an ambulance? She asked him. Yes, he said very calmly. Is it for me?

It's for me. She's trying to be kinda like cute and sexy. He for me, he says, yes, yes, of course she knew it.

Her entire left side of her face was a balloon and her eye was swollen, completely shut. That pushed to the pool floor, fractured her face. She says, this is action park. This is one of the many stories. This is one of these stories.

Her almost doctor date had seen the slide over population and noticed the early signs of swelling on her face and put together that it could be a serious head injury. Rather than freak her out, he somehow subtly, subtly got someone to call an ambulance and kept her comments how they were there. Oh, it should have been a beautiful start to a love story. But when I took my mom home, my Art Garfunkel looking grandfather brought them both into the house and made my mom stand for a full photo shoot of her nearly unrecognizable face.

What I see in these photos and the features you can see looked pissed, which I can't believe you didn't fucking send them in with the story.

I'm sorry, though. She goes on a first date with this guy, comes home and the dad's like, we need to take pictures.

I think he was laughing at her. He's a fucking dad from the eighties. OK, got it. Know, and he's laughing his ass off like he thinks it's the best.

Right. Right. My mom was too embarrassed by the spectacle and the photography to see him again. So it probably also means she didn't like him that much. Oh yeah. But either way, now my mom can always give me the loving reminder when I have bad dates that at least I didn't break my face. I don't know how to end this in a memorable way, so I'll just steal yours, stay sexy and don't make your daughter sit for a photo shoot when her face is literally broken.

Madelin for real, why wasn't she in the hospital for five days? Right, right. Jesus also like picturing a person that would care enough to distract you. Yeah. And basically keep you calm. How could she not.

That's marriage material I think. Do you want in this world.

Probably too embarrassed. OK, but yeah.

Here you're, you're fell off and he was still down. So he thought he clocked you into your house with your fucking weird dad with your he didn't drop you off me like good luck with your face.

I got to go back to the hospital.

Oh. I want him to write in and tell his side of the story, his side of the story crush that she never fucking responded. Has he never been married since? A divorce is the chance that this was true love he watched her get. He just watched it like plowed down that fucking water slide. He was like, she's the one. It's I can tell maybe he felt too guilty about it to ask her out again because he felt responsible for bringing her there on a date.

They both went into a shame spiral sign. If they could only have just reached out, they could have my favorite murder, bring in it together.

We're going to bring this love together. We're going to bring action park love stories.

Ain't no ordinary lemon. There's no action because your face faces probably of a concussion. You probably brain swelling with the brake fluid on the brain.

Try another hit. Another hit. Wow. This was a great series of wonderful communications, everybody.

Yeah. Thank you guys for writing those. And please keep fucking doing it. We love it.

Yes. All day. All night that stay off the water. Slide it action park in nineteen eighty two.

Stay sexy and don't get murdered by Elvis.

You want a cookie.

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