Haunted and Homicidal

Cannibal Spirits & Clown-Fueled Chaos

This week, we take a frosty plunge into full-blown terror, starting with the bone-chilling legend of the Wendigo—a winter-loving, flesh-hungry cryptid who prefers its humans plump and panic-seasoned. We unpack the folklore, the eerie ceremonies once used to keep it at bay, and whether that existential dread you feel every December might just be… a vibe or a Wendigo.
Then, because we hate ourselves, we take a sharp left turn into the haunted Clown Motel—a place so cursed it garners multiple "absolutely the fuck nots" and a full-on panic spiral from Lauren. Between the ghost clowns, dusty dolls, and photos that feel like they’re watching you breathe, it’s safe to say Lauren tried to quit the podcast mid-recording. No, seriously. She was out.
This episode has it all: Wendigos, haunted hotels, emotional damage, and enough clown-based trauma to fuel your nightmares for a month.
Stay haunted. Stay homicidal. And say absolutely the fuck not to clowns.
Also, here is the link to the digital book by Christopher Sebela - I lived in a Clown Motel 

Hattie, Homicide, and the Tool Named Toole

This episode dives headfirst into the dark and tangled world of some truly chaotic killers. First up is Hattie Whitten, a small-town poisoner with big-time body count energy. Then we descend into the unsettling and confusing pit that is Ottis Toole—a walking red flag who made a career out of grotesque crimes and false confessions, most notoriously alongside his equally deranged partner-in-lies, Henry Lee Lucas. These two were less a dynamic duo and more a disaster in denim.
⚠️ Trigger Warning: This episode includes discussion of the Adam Walsh case and Ottis Toole’s disturbing and disputed involvement. Listener discretion is strongly advised.
And because nothing can stay serious for too long around here, Mischa makes a guest appearance—providing top-tier ASMR with her enthusiastic crunching of chips and queso from Lauren’s favorite local Mexican joint. Yes, she has excellent taste. No, she’s not sorry.
Murder, manipulation, queso, and canine cameos—it’s a little horrifying, a little hilarious, and a lot of no thanks.

Ghosts, Creepy Kids, "Zak Bagel Bites" (thanks Em and Christine) and me lucky charms!

In this episode, Lauren and Courtney take you to the notoriously haunted 1886 Crescent Hotel—not to be confused with croissants, a buttery French pastry, though the vibe is equally flaky. We dig into the paranormal history, the infamous mirror where ghostly hands supposedly reach out (um, no thank you), and share why this hotel is on our bucket list... but only if that bucket comes with sage and holy water.
But wait—there’s more! We also get into the eerie phenomenon of the Black Eyed Kids (not to be confused with the Black Eyed Peas—though both are known for unsettling people). One particular BEK allegedly eats apples with ketchup, which is somehow more disturbing than the ghosts. (fuck them kids)
Meanwhile, Lauren’s husband is on a personal mission to steal her Lucky Charms, because apparently they're magically delicious even in a paranormal crisis.
It’s haunted, it’s homicidal, and it’s full of chaotic no-thank-you energy. 
Oh, and here's the link to the "Ghost of the Crescent Hotel" by Still On The Hill (and no, Lauren STILL didn't listen to it!)

Nannie, Brian, and....task forks? Or whatever she said... plus RIP Ozzy, Michael...and to the Hulk, you know what you did..

This episode is a full-blown rollercoaster of true crime and total brain fog. We start with the unsettling tale of Nannie Doss, the sweet-smiling serial killer known as the Giggling Granny, who poisoned her way through husbands like it was a hobby. Then we unravel the nonsense that is Bitch Boy Brian “Penelope” Pennell, a man whose crimes are as ridiculous as his nickname is earned (that we gave him because fuck that guy). We cover their arrests, sentencing, and the absolutely unhinged details that left us staring into the void.
Meanwhile, we try (and fail) to wrap our heads around task forks—what are they? Why are they? Our flabbers are ghasted. We are in major confusion.
In a tragic turn of reality, we also mourn the recent loss of Ozzy Osbourne, whose absence hits hard and heavy. Michael Jamal Warner has also sadly passed, leaving a mark on the world that won’t be forgotten. As for Hulk Hogan… let’s just say our grief levels are appropriately muted, given his racist tendencies.
It’s chaos. It’s crime. It’s the kind of episode that makes you question your to-do list and humanity.