I Work For A Private Museum | CreepCast

Visible puts unlimited 5G data and hotspot in the palm of your hand. Powered by Verizon's 5G network, with no contract holding you back. And for a limited time, you can get Visible for just $19 a month for 12 months, when you use promo code SAVE6. All the features of big wireless service, for half the cost. Tap the banner to switch today. Terms apply. Standard rate applies at month 13. See visible.com for plan features and network management details. Welcome back to Creepcast! Today we are doing a very, very requested episode. A very requested story, I should say. Called, I work at a private museum for the rich and famous. One horrifying expedition made me quit. Which, haven't we done a museum? A museum-esque story before? Or am I wrong? Wasn't there another museum story we did? The only thing I can remember that was a museum was in Deepwoods. When they go to that museum place and that big fight happens. Yeah, then it's, you know, Highway to Hell or whatever. Yeah, yeah. The beginning chords to Highway to Hell blasted from the speakers. Hell yeah, it did. Are we getting punked? Highway to Hell! That's what I'm thinking. But I. We. I feel like people have been requesting this one for a while. Yeah, they have. People have mentioned this one a lot. It's a fun story from what I know. And people are like, oh, you guys got to read this. Which, again, you can't trust this audience. Because sometimes when they mean fun, they mean something completely different. So, I don't know if this is a legitimate request or if it's an illegitimate request. I will say the story is pretty highly favored on rslashnosleep. It has. The first part has. 6.7 thousand upvotes. It's a five-part story. And like I said, a bunch of people have recommended it. So, I'm going to go into it with high hopes and, you know, a positive can-do attitude. But we'll see how it. Not a super. We'll see how it goes. Not a super old story. We're looking at the. Like a pandemic post here. Looks like a 2020 post. And it. So, I mean, five parts. I mean, we're in it for the long haul here. All right? So, we don't. Once again, we don't know what exactly we're walking. Into, but good Lord, we are walking. So, we'll see. Have you. Any bear traps you want to set off at the top? Museum for the Rich and Famous. Because when I saw this initially, it reminded me of the steakhouse. Or it reminded me of like the fancy. Azalea Steakhouse. Yeah. It reminded me of that a little bit. And I don't know how that translates, but that's what I'm thinking. I think either it's going to be like people in the displays, or it's going to be like monsters or something. Like old. Like cryptids, basically, that have been trapped within them. So, I'm guessing people are monsters. That's where my money's at. Yeah. You know, I was even thinking it could be like. I was like, man, could you imagine if it was like skinless bodies? And I was like, I've actually. That's a real thing. I've seen that before. I've seen. I've seen. Imagine if this real thing's in this fictional story. That'd be crazy. Yeah. Well, on paper, the bodies. Have you ever seen that exhibit before? Oh, yeah. Yeah. It's pretty fascinating, but I was like, could you imagine? I'm like, oh, yeah, that's right. I saw that when I was. Oh, yeah. That's a real thing that I'm very aware from. That's right. That's right. Of course. Of course. Well, guys, also, if you're listening to this right now, you're not watching our ugly mugs, then maybe give us a nice rating on whatever you're listening. Wherever you're listening, whether it's YouTube music or Spotify or Apple Podcasts, one of those fucking places you can watch or listen to a nice story from us. Consider giving us a nice rating. It does help out. And if you're looking for. If you're looking for any extra content, we did post our interview with Imperial Invective. Really fun. Fan favorite of the channel. Nice little author interview. If you want to check that out, feel free to check it on our Patreon and support the channel. I also forgot to mention the author. The author of this story goes by on Reddit as IC Simpson or X Simpson, maybe. And they post a ton of stories. This one is their most highly upvoted, but they have some other ones. There was one called Breastfeeding is for Babies, which Hunter immediately. My ear is perked up. Are we sure it's not LC Simpson? I think it's IC from looking it up because someone on YouTube credited them as IC. Okay. So it could be else, but I think it's IC or X Simpson. Either way, they also have r slash sharp shooting, which looks like their own Reddit where they post their own story collection, stuff like that. And they seem to have a pretty decent following. So we will link off to their Reddit in the description if you want to see more from them. If you enjoy the story, they certainly have more to read from. Speaking of artists, I wanted to kind of call you out, Hunter. Your lack of public comment on the passing of Dolly Parton has been quite telling. What am I supposed to say? You have nothing to say. The only thing that I ever interacted with was your wife. I messaged your wife because your wife on her Instagram, she was just like, Oh my God, who died first? But Dolly died. And then it was Tim Curry. And then she's like, Paul McCartney, stay inside. And I just messaged and said, Paul's due. I mean, Paul McCartney is due. That's the only interaction I've had with any of it. I mean, I don't know, dude. And it is what it is. I mean, I don't mind when people post about, you know, this thing of like, Oh, I remember the first time X, Y, or Z. But if I truly don't have a very strong memory of something, the only time I've really ever said anything was, Recently, Screaming Matt George died. Can't remember if I even said anything for that, but that sucked. But then also when Ozzy died. That was like the last time I ever made a post about like someone dying. Well, you know, Dolly Parton, the Queen of Appalachia. I've been taking it pretty hard. I bet. Well, I'm sorry. How are you holding up? You holding up okay? No. I'm not. I was going through. In her memory, you should get a bunch of plastic surgery and get big fake titties. And you should get a bunch of plastic. You'd just be in a beach blonder here. I thought she would. She would. I like that. I'll say this. I'll say this. She's charming. Very, very charming. Hard not to like. She's been a charming lady. And she had the imagination library where they send books to kids in Appalachia. And when my daughter was born, the imagination library sent her a book. And it had a message in it that was like, When I was a kid, my daddy, you know, was the smartest man I ever met. But he never knew how to read. And a bunch of people looked down on him in this part of the world for that. And I want you to be proud of where you're from. And I want your mom and dad to read stories to you and to teach you about where you grew up and blah, blah, blah. And I was taking it pretty hard. And then I read that and it just destroyed me. Gosh. Did you start bawling? Yeah, I was pretty beside myself there for a while. She's a dolly. You know what? If only not everyone can leave that good of a legacy. That good of that good of a that makes that many people happy. And I've seen a couple of posts about the about the book company and stuff. And that is really cool. Sending out books that you can read to your kids and stuff. I think that's really, really, really nice. The way the books would work, it would start with like it starts with like, you know, your typical shapes, colors and stuff. But as the kid gets older, it's like stories about like Appalachian legends and people and stuff. And it like gets them into where they're from. And like Dolly built Dollywood and all that stuff in Sevier County. And it's like it's applied so many jobs. She poured so much of her money into the infrastructure and schools in the region. And after the Gatlinburg fires and Hurricane Helene, she made the largest donations to get people in Tennessee rehomed and fed and things like that. So it's always been like like anything. Anytime something bad happens in Tennessee, she's kind of been like a guardian angel figure trying to help out the locals. Is there a way for her to become a saint? Yeah. Yeah, it's it's it's sad. It's like it's like the mountains are a little more a little more smoky today. Is there a way for her to become a saint like an actual patron saint? According to Catholic theology, to my understanding, to become a saint, you have to do acts of kindness. You have to lead a religious group, which you could argue she did. But she also has to perform a miracle that's witnessed, which she might have. I wasn't opening a theme park around yourself in the Appalachia that actually stays open called fucking Dollywood. That's a miracle. I don't know how I don't know how else. You could say that's that, you know, also it is like a place to go getting the getting the people of the mountains and the deep trees to read is a feat within itself. People actually being there. There is a that's a that's a miracle, too. I knew I knew I knew you would put your stink on. It was also and and and Tim Curry. Yeah. Another one. Yeah. And then Optimus Prime Optimus Prime died, too. He died like two hours ago. Optimus. The voice, the voice of Optimus Prime. I'm pretty sure Peter Cullen also did the Predator sound the voice. He's like a famous voice guy. Yeah, he did. He or two from Winnie the Pooh. So the most coveted role. Yeah, they're just killing every childhood icon. It's good, though. You know what? We have to move on. We have to. We have to embrace and we have to grow. And I think that these these legends, they'll they'll stay in our hearts forever. One thing, Isaiah. Or in my heart, not yours. if it's the public. bit conscious maybe i'd give it two or three more days and then then everything will kind of just go back to the way it was as as everything um i'll tell you what though at least we know well maybe you i think that you'll probably have a when i die there's not gonna the world will be a happier better place i will be devastated when you die hunter i know you'll say well i have to find a new host and it's just a whole ordeal who are you gonna replace me with on the are you gonna are you gonna call it quits so i'm gonna call it quits realistically but if i had to make a joke for the sake of this comedy podcast about who i would replace you with i'd probably replace you with man hulk hogan died i was gonna say him you would you would replace me with hulk hogan that just seems like a really funny swap you know just like replace you with a wrestler who has no interest in horror stories or anything like that the the the tone of the podcast would certainly change just a little bit uh there you go well i mean you know uh well there it is wow we talked about it there's not a lot of death in this this is going to be the scariest most depressing part of the entire story so we'll see anyway well hopefully hey isaiah hopefully you're able to rest easy tonight buddy i hope it's not taking too hard i've i've got my strong emotions out i'm good are you are you going to her uh to her funeral uh if there's a public ceremony that can be attended i probably would honestly are they going to blow up dolly land now no i'm not i'm not going to do that um i would never do that to dolly sweet no no not you i'm just wondering are they going to seize operations at dolly oh well i mean they opened it back up and there was like a big tribute there and a bunch of people came and oh there you go stuff like that there you go um well but i could she's more selfless than i because if i had hunter world let me tell you as soon as i'm dead i'd be placed in the center of it and i'm gonna blow myself up that's that's my service bring everyone who cares about you and then they die too i take all the money that my wife and children are think they're gonna get i'd spend it all on roses and explosive and i'd put all of it in the center of the park and i'd blow it up and i'd say that's it and i'd say c'est la vie is that goodbye what does c'est la vie mean c'est la vie oh that's perfect that's life c'est la vie such is life is that what you play too you play frank sinatra's that's life that's life well i don't have any more money so it's a it's a cover version that i can't afford okay yeah we spent too much on the c4 the c4 and the roses were very pricey um all right you want to let's read the story let's read it i work at a private museum for the rich and famous one horrifying exhibition made me quit part one the museum opened without public warning once during the week and only at six o'clock in the evening no earlier no later any bratty excuse such as a sluggish private jet simply did not cut it only those outside the gate at six o'clock were permitted inside no one knew where this giant playground for wealthy men was not even god and in this place there was no god my gods were the rich and famous and they were merciless cruel goddamn there was no security here nor staff besides me on opening day it was a grand lawless building that only made for the top one percent of the top one percent our reason for lack of employees was the same reason michael jackson shut down a supermarket for a day visit in the 2000s uninhibited fun without judgmental eyes did michael jackson actually do that yeah there was a story where he rented out a supermarket so he could pretend so he could uh pretend like be a normal person and shop around but the entire thing was filled with actors and stuff do you do you think that's uh do you think that's like incredibly pompous or do you think that's a sign of a very troubled man i think from a very troubled man i think a man who uh who probably had no ounce of normality once in his life you know motherfucker was on stage performing and famous from like the age of like what five or whatever yeah yeah so i probably usually i mean you know what's the worst part is i would just kept that like a thing of oh man i wish i could because once you go to a grocery store you start doing it right you're like i didn't i wasn't missing out on fucking anything yeah yeah he goes through there and he's like man thank god i'll tell you what though yeah he leaves all right cool never let me do that again got that out of my system yeah i'll tell you what though dolly dolly would walk through the grocery store proud she was swarmed by people didn't matter still get the still get to say say hi to everyone she'd pick up all the kids say hi she was she was a gem i miss her so much i was listening to tennessee home this morning just devastated isaiah would you like to sing a dolly parton song to get rid of your sister no no no no i did the same thing i did every opening day adjusted my maroon waistcoat comb my hair shine my shoes at 5 59 i came tapping down the marble staircase with the spring of my step not from excitement rather a jumpiness that came from instilled fear the museum was about to become their toy shop yet again and me their play think this time i could only pray that they waited until midnight before asking to see our paranormal relic displays i could only pray they didn't let her out the foyer was huge towering golden pillars wedged between ivory flavored marble flooring and a mosaic glass ceiling that let starlight beam through with one hand i braced the door that stood three men high my other hand turning to check my watch it was six o'clock four pompous men and two posh women smugly marched in they were dressed in fur coats alligator skin diamond jewelry from head to toe it was quite frankly comical not to me though of all i had seen it all many times before however there was one man at the back who didn't care to show his wealth he was dressed in his finest outfit to visit a convenience store blue scuff jeans and a green t-shirt i pondered what he did for a living i simply didn't know what i did know is that within minutes the look on his face that he wanted me dead for sport i announced the tour will start immediately there's a coat rack to your left if you need to leave any belongings i must press you all follow me for the tour however it's completely optional it was as if i read off a script the route started off like any other i led the rich brats through the left side of the museum we walked past the history and war rooms past the living wall i'm not like just gonna breeze over that one okay that's the mariana trench exhibit we house creatures from the bottom of the ocean in there that the public hadn't seen before inside immense pressurized titanium tanks i like that exhibit the most but it wasn't time hallways were always hauntingly quiet on opening day museum's property outside stretched for miles too so no cars nor people provided any consultation for my lonely mind on long nights such as these it was just me the rich savages and the exhibitions walking into a hallway intersection leading left to the paranormal display and to the right the insect room we had stopped please don't see it please don't see it this way please why are you all stopping here i knew why they saw the glass cabinet that towered by the door to the paranormal exhibition hallway curiosity beckoned them it was covered by a dust blanket only i knew what was underneath and i knew it was best untouched can we take a look at this voice said quietly from behind shattered me like a toppled vase my smile had to be kept up i couldn't crack it started the tour that would be tragic we will return here after midnight once we've explored the rest of the one of the men sternly interrupted we paid good money for this give us a look i pulled hard enough at my hair i'm surprised it didn't come out of my scalp please don't make me show you i don't want to wake her yeah give us a look more bullies chimed in i was no rookie to the psychological wedgie but it was in my contract to not put up a fight swallowing hard the words escaped slowly and unwillingly yes sure my hand reached for the fabric reluctantly like it was a hot stove i pulled the graphite sheet away from the case and flipped the light switch the fluorescent lights popped and ticked as they flickered within the glass oblong that towered above us the woman inside was ghoulishly tall at least seven feet so if she were any bigger her head would have had to tilt to the side sometimes it did her black hair flowed onto her pale shiny shoulders like an ashen willow her face plasticky and silky smooth the flesh of a child's doll beneath the glass cube mariette 1973 to 2004 the fat man's plump face stared upward utterly transfixed with the thin soaring woman how how how did she die i thought for a while my face contemplating and changing in the dim lighting they clicked and blinked once more kick kick kick it pains me to say this but she was once the tour guide for this museum i had met the gold glass and sadly after a few years she had a mental breakdown and passed away there were a couple gas from the rich folk passed away woman voice from the crowd she she injected herself to death with plasticizing agents and in fact that is one of the loopholes as to why we can't keep her body here on display her body's more plastic than flesh and bone kick kick kick the lights went out they'll be back any second i soothed reassuringly that story's absurd a man boomed unfortunate sure but woefully true the other loophole being her will she wanted to give herself to the museum just as the museum had given itself to her the lights went out and the lights inside the case came back on my heart sank into my stomach clicking noises had not been coming from the lamps after all creaking had come from her plastic joints twisting and contorting old plastic grinding against itself like a cursed figurine now visible her head had been creaked to one side she stared unblinkingly at me with glass eyes dampening the sheet with my sweaty palm i narrowly managed to quickly toss the fabric covering the glass before anyone noticed that she had readjusted her head when it had been dark is that it can we touch her i want to feel her rubbery plasticky skin since chills up my spine i couldn't say no as per my contract all these wealthy scumbags could kill me for fun and get away with it if they didn't get what they wanted nobody would hear me scream i had to think quickly we should be moving on i extend an open hand to the hallway this way please for some exhibits i held on to the harrowing details to feed them specifics would be like planting seeds of trickling intrigue in their minds and intrigue led to an insatiate curiosity curiosity always killed the cat matter the feline a rich breed or a stray tom i didn't tell the wealthy people that the doll hated her glass prison i didn't tell them that we closed her eyelids so she could sleep things were going smoothly for a few hours i let them hold and handle the child-sized beetles we had imported from madagascar they were beautiful and fluorescent like sunlight through crystals i got so caught up in my presentations i'd almost forgot about mariette's snapping plastic head mr jones the rich guy dressed for a convenience store clicked his tongue as he spoke hey uh guide he threw one thumb behind his shoulder pointing backward we're gonna go back this way to have a look at something else i nodded reluctantly shoddy sneakers tapped away at the marble floors as both he and the woman disappeared down the hall for a short time things truly were going great i even let one woman into the space where we held the class butterflies they were gorgeous insects i'm not going to lie to you i'm not going to lie to you i'm not going to lie to you almost invisible to the naked eye translucent yet poisonous the remaining billionaires were silently yawning deep down i knew what they wanted to see chest tightened at that moment i thought that i was beginning to hate my job from the hallway came a loud crashing of broken glass curiosity killed the cat please excuse me i muttered and sprinted into the dim alley of the museum towards the paranormal wing moments after i'd started running i realized i left the doors open to the butterflies behind me the sounds of shouting and pitter pattering as the tourists sprinted the opposite direction they were running from the floating creatures running for their lives running from deadly venom it was too late i had to keep going my heart sank i already guessed what i was about to find ahead the evening was no longer going swimmingly around the bin i found one woman crouched against the wall by a window she was a ball of tears clasping her head with two hands what the hell happened she her throat was glaringly tight her words struggled to escape her i didn't i didn't do anything i looked up glass lined the ground and edges of the walls like rain had come and left the devil's hail a few steps away the graphite dust blanket half covered a gaping sharp hole in the cabinet lights flickered from its mouth mocking me glaring at my watch my stomach nodded it wasn't midnight yet it was a midnight and somebody broke mariette's display and she was gone just like the woman crying beside me i think my throat became tight too come with me i said holding out one hand we got up and we ran we ran until we caught our breath outside the ocean exhibit and the living wall what is this thing she said staring at the beach wall don't touch it please couldn't think clearly she was out there somewhere clicking her ghoulish joints towering in the halls searching searching for more plastic more plastic plastic plastic plastic plastic searching for more plastic more plastic so she could become the perfect ventriloquist doll the doll she had become so fixated with working here she would be a doll and she would play with her just like she would play with us it looks alive the woman reached a hand to the slimy greasy wall i felt lost couldn't breathe it was too much the butterflies mariette sick rich people breaking things for fun with no repercussion finger-like blobs from the wall reached back out to the woman thick apricot worms searching for warmth i slapped her hand away you mustn't touch that she gasped and i realized my mistake my contract was broken and my head shall be on a spike don't you dare touch me she spat back at me large angry veins sticking out of her neck i raised my hand to calm her i apologize ma'am this strange thing is made of living cells without knowing i was back on tour guide script despite the trauma the very thing you're trying to poke at you could eat i don't want to hear it thank you sit there for a while i'm going to go to the bathroom and i'm going to the bathroom i'm going to go to the bathroom for a while both unable to think nor speak i stared at the wall unblinkingly like watching a hot fire it's flesh molding changing peach goo floating waves across its surface inviting me to look closer underneath on a golden placard the living wall i shook out of it richard jones had made it back to us his green t-shirt was torn at the neck his eyes sunken and traumatized the door is locked guide we need your key i nodded right away started to jogging towards the direction of the foyer he wasn't following mr jones richard jones was still standing next to the woman who had been crying in a ball minutes prior he didn't speak only glared back at me in the dim starlight that flowed through the window when he placed his hand on the woman's back smiled i knew it was too late he shoved her with force the woman shrieked and went tumbling headfirst into the gooey peach wall the fuck her bones snapped and buckled his blobby fingers wrapped themselves around her spine her neck and her neck and her neck and her neck and neck it flowed into her mouth with ease slowing only to pull at her teeth like it was eating meat off a rough bone she screamed and screamed until she gurgled vile slime the wall ate her whole fleshy goo displaying her features and flesh wide on its waving surface bits of arm and mouth suspended upon a hungry blanket richard laughed he laughed and laughed and laughed for him money did buy happiness horrifying horrifying happiness i felt sick i was going to die i was going to throw up the wall's voice was deep and hard to make out at first a woman's voice deep in its slimy crevices richie it moaned i turned to run but i had seen he had disappeared and i was safe he got the kicks he was looking for and made off with them it was hard to block out the voice before it all stopped i lay crouched beneath the window blocking my ears and rocking in a ball my heart was out of my chest my stomach a knot i didn't want to be a tour guide any longer sprinting and sprinting i never looked back i climbed the stairs swift enough that my thighs felt like they were going to give out much time passed that night at the museum hours opening nights were long and terrible nothing like this was ever worth the money i found myself hiding in a janitor's closet on the second floor occasionally peering through the cracks into the horror beyond after some time and when the vile people finished exploring the museum i heard jones crack a joke about the woman and the wall he and the rest of the rich people they laughed and laughed and laughed all the way back home on their private jets to their estates when it was midnight mariette was asleep and i shut her plastic eyelids for i had glass to sweep cabinets to repair i'd learned time and time again that nightmares were not in our walls the horrors were within the people that visited their sick pursuit of amusement and the games they would play and i was their plaything i'm sorry they played with you too dear mariette the exhibition that made me quit was the sickening consequence of true human freedom and it was only for me to see once a week mariette still walks the halls at night without her glass prison maybe i couldn't quit i needed to repair it to make things right she has such a slow slow walk glassy eyes darting left and right rolling loose like marbles her head pivoting left and right aimlessly looking for more plastic needing more plastic to please the museum to be the perfect exhibition before shutting the gate i pensively peered around the grand foyer the museum was large and harrowing for a moment i wore a grimace on my face remembering a time when all i needed to satisfy our guests was to show them insects i've been here a long time tales stripped from the walls like an endless flowing tap of horror there'd be more wealthy visitors i think i might have more stories to tell end of part one this episode sponsored by our partners at factor factors here to make eating healthier and easier especially when your wife's with her boyfriend with over 175 ingredients every factor meal is designed around what supports a healthier lifestyle and nothing that doesn't factor makes healthy eating easy with fully prepared meals designed by dietitians and crafted by chefs fully prepared so when your wife is busy with derek you can just eat eat and enjoy that's why 97 percent of the cucks that use this agree to factor meals help them live a healthier life i can't keep that okay and that's why 97 percent of the cucks agree the factory meals help them live a healthier life let's be honest healthy eating is a whole lot easier when you don't have to worry about grocery lists and prep work and taking it all out wasting your time and having to ask your wife's boyfriend what does he want to eat what does she want to eat why can't we choose factor powers your day sun up into sundown with nutritious breakfast on the go lunches and premium dinners and in just two minutes you can heat eat and enjoy baby with 100 rotating meals each week to choose from you are sure sure to find something you like every week you'll find over 100 nutrient-dense menu items to choose from and new options like salmon burgers shredded pork and also fun seasonal add-ons like pumpkin flavored cheesecakes yum which my wife's boyfriend he's allergic to pumpkin so i have to it's a whole thing it makes the fall very tumultuous time at least you get to have your factor meal yeah that's why you get a separate fridge in the garage i keep all my factor salmon burgers in a separate fridge in the garage so um my wife and derrick can make their meals factor has meals built around your goals whether that's weight loss overall nutrition more protein or glp1 support or you know make this polycule thing work right trying to peacock another woman this week i'm looking forward to trying the grilled filet mignon and creamy parmesan shrimp which my wife and derek said are very good and the best part of the factor is that there's no prep work no grocery lines and virtually no cleanup let's eat real did you hear i said let's eat real yeah head to factormeals.com/creepcast50off and use code creepcast50off to get 50% off and one free breakfast item per box for one year all supplies last until 10 31 20 26 that's code creepcast50off at factormeals.com creepcast50off at factormeals.com thank you to factor for sponsoring this video now back to the episode interesting so it is taking uh which you know makes sense for that time period but it it's taking that more of like the uh lonely broadcast tower tales from the gas station vibe of you know little little vignettes of things from a person's job it's like quick moments of a person's job it's like moments that they go by and stuff and the feeling is kind of in the more campy direction but i like the campiness like you know it's very out like glass butterflies that are venomous and a living wall of flesh um and the rich people so comically evil that they just kill each other for kicks you know um i'll tell you what richie but it's a fun note richie or richard gives off museum owner's son vibes yeah doesn't he yeah like you know weird weird sadistic maniac eye killing people because i'm guessing he's the ones like hey we're gonna go this way and he's the one who broke open marionette's case and then he's also the one who pushed the uh the girl into the flesh wall it makes you think that it's just like oh yeah sorry about my son he's a fucking psycho but i just let him walk these walk walk the halls of this museum but i do like the idea of like a horror a horror night at the museum kind of feel i mean i know that the statues aren't coming to life but you know weird mystical museum thing uh is it it's a fun concept i think so i think the idea of like you have um these people who go to a place where they get to see these impossible things and they're the only people that get to do it so it further ingrates them into like a high secret society level place and you have it from a perspective of someone that has to watch i think it's a fun idea i think it's a fun premise the living walls cool the giant bugs are cool stuff like that uh it's all neat and i wonder how mariette ties into the future entries and stuff maybe not necessarily the paranormal and the flesh wall and stuff but do you think there is a secret underground high society museum of sorts of sadistic pleasure existing in the real world uh you mean like a hypothetical island in the caribbean where they traffic children uh and rooms that were made to look like ancient roman bath houses no i have no idea what you're talking about okay all right there's a bit of kind of a bit of a condescending tone to what you just said uh i i guess if we're taking out that very real place more so uh like a giant like a structured uh actual museum like displays or something uh maybe if i had to guess it would be more so illegal material right like because there's high society places that are public that you can visit and there's like there's rich people that have private exhibits you know of like their own personal collections of things they've bought and collected like a lot of the times you'll read about um you know famous artworks or historical items and it'll be like oh it was sold to a private collection right so there's things like that yeah well it made me think a little bit of uh martyrs when it's like a high high society like rich people getting together to see this like magnificent thing even though it's at the sake of like torturing somebody you know but you like get to see into the eyes of a martyr or whatever is uh is kind of what i was wondering but you know like obviously that there's like a paranormal element to that too or like a fantastical thing but i am curious if you know like when people say shit about like bohemian grove and like oh they're doing like their rituals and stuff like that out there i do wonder if there is something like that there's got to be right there's got to be something well bohemian grove's a real place for the only video we have is them doing a giant ritual yeah yeah so i guess what i'm saying is something that's like uh like in this vein a A giant collection of like weird assorted stuff. Like it would be like, I don't know. Yeah. Just something more fantastical. I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. Nevermind, dude. You know what? I fuck it. There's Jeffrey Epstein's Island and there's also Bohemian Grove. Nevermind. I mean, after like Bohemian Grove and all the Epstein leaks and stuff, it's like, yeah, man, they probably got Cthulhu down there and they like cut his tentacles off for fun at this point. Thank you. That's what I'm wondering. You know what? Nothing out of the bounds of reality for these people. You know what I think? Centaur pit. Like a pit full of like human horse hybrids. I think they're displaying weird mythological creatures of some kind or man-made is what I really think. They spliced it together. They spliced man and horse and there's probably something sexual with it. I mean, it's, it's billionaires. They got to do something sexual with it. But I do think that there's something where it's like an oddities. It's like, uh, the big famous, uh, circus, you know, quote unquote freak show, except now it's real and it's people making crap. Crazy shit. You know, I don't know. I, you know, I'm not going to say this. I would believe that. I would say that the freak show thing has continued and like these taxidermy projects and stuff like that. Absolutely. I feel like that they've kept them alive though. It's like they're fucking prisoners in there or something, you know? I could see that. I definitely see that. A minotaur man or whatever. I mean, I think that's certainly possible. And once again, they're always hard and it's always sexual because they're billionaires. They had, it has to be always every time. Of course. Yeah. Can you imagine? Yeah. That's one of the reasons. Yeah. Cause once you reach, and this is something again, with all the Epstein stuff, once you reach a certain level of wealth and power, you can really get away with whatever you want in the realm that most people think of. Like you can hook up with whoever you want. You can do whatever drugs you want. You could like all that stuff is poultry where you really get your kicks is doing something that's like unspeakable, something beyond the realms of society, which is why I believe there is so much like pedophilia in the elitist. Groups and stuff like that. Yeah. It's the ultimate, like also the invincible thing. I can't be touched. I'm impervious. That's why I legitimately believe there has been one billionaire who said, who said minotaur labyrinth. And this one's like, what? And he's like, but you run around in a boner with a boner. I would believe it. Yeah. I would believe these guys. I mean, there's photos of Epstein's Island where they had like a room set up to look like a dentist office with like clown faces on the wall and stuff. My God. And at his ranch, he had these. Giant, like a pool rooms that had pictures of Jesus and crosses around them just as like a middle finger to religion, you know, like horrifying, horrifying. Yeah. God, God only knows what's, what's lurking underneath these stones to be unturned one day. Don't be surprised is all I'm saying when a, when a goddamn centaur or minotaur person's running around like at a truck stop in Nevada somewhere. Yeah. Whatever, you know, I w I'd believe it. I would. I, and I'd be like, of course, of course. Yeah. So this, you know, it was like, Oh, the comically evil, like over the top, maybe it's not so over the top, but maybe, yeah, I feel like we've, I feel like there's that type of guns. Like I'll just shove this woman into a flesh wall. Yeah. I mean, I think that, uh, it's, I'm sure the things are going to be cartoonish and like, you know, uh, and these, in these rooms or whatever, I have a feeling with this museum of like the uber rich and powerful. I feel like me and you are going to be like, well, that can't be right. And it's always going to circle back to, yeah, it probably, that's probably, that's probably going on right now. Yeah, probably. I feel like that's going to happen. They're probably doing that at this moment. Yeah. Right, right now, right now. Uh, like you say, you think these dudes who are trafficking children to touch, like no way, they're not also killing people for fun, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's not like, well, come on, I'm not a monster. It's like, what the fuck are you talking about? Fuckers ain't stopping. Anyway, they're actual. Actual demons. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. They're, they're monsters in human skin. Absolutely. Um, part two. Part two. Part two. Subtitle is don't bring your kids here. Great. Oh, wow. That's what, uh, what an unfortunate title after the things we've just been talking about. Fun. Here we go. Last week we had an incident at the museum when venomous glass butterflies escaped their enclosures. This week I found myself alone in the ocean exhibition room. The angler fish circled endlessly in the abyss of its. Murky tank searching for an exit. It would never find. It met me at the glass interface of its pressurized prison bumping its luminescent fishing lure against the glass grinned at me with thin white pencils hello little guy i will say too the uh i do believe too like in these like ocean exhibits exhibit stuff i bet you billionaires or whatever i bet you they have species of animal or fish or anything that we've never seen i'd believe it yeah why not i mean i mean if they found like one it's like put it in the collection you know there's definitely some dude out there some jeffrey epstein type who has a giant tank with like an ore fish inside of it i am just i feel like there's even even because they you know i mean the the sea levels are right all you know all this stuff of i think that they're trying to go into the ocean i think that there's people who are probably getting conspiratorial now this is what's going to bring this is what's going to bring us out of this isaiah's is this is going to be a very conspiratorial episode of this uh podcast that we have here and i have a feeling that people are trying to splice their genes with fish to where they can become mermen mermaids thoughts see if it was if it was that surface level i wouldn't care as much you know if it comes out that the reason epstein was doing all that is because he wanted to be like a goat man okay that's such if they want to be mermen that is such a more comforting answer then no no like what they're doing down there let me say this everything once again is it's going to be sexual and horrifying there's murder in it somehow i'm just saying it sure it's going that that's the that's the quote-unquote end goal or the excuse i guess i should say yeah yeah no i could see that definitely some like human centipede stuff going on but like these human animal hybrids for this thing i think it's more like tusk to me it's not like they want to do it to themselves they want to do it to someone else and here's a question for you isaiah and i'm curious what you think can mermaids breastfeed all right there we go you were doing so good 43 minutes even then i was giving you the whole like the cenotaur hard thing i was giving you that because it's like well it's kind of in the realm of like sexual depravity but now you're just going on your own routes i'm sorry just i'm just i thought i had i'm just gonna keep reading i'm just gonna keep reading okay i found myself staying a while in our deep sea exhibition watching the creature as he bathed and flicked around in his own little cube of the world you could never know why he was in the museum nor who put him there instead he swam he swam and swam and hoped that just one day the glass would crack just an inch luckily feeding the shaggy frog fish didn't take long the yellow fish knocked away clouds of dust along the bottom of its tank as it scurried along on its leg-like fins with the awkward gait of a geriatric golden retriever it's hard to keep happy in this ghoulish museum but that room always made me smile upstairs i went before working through some paperwork for a few hours i'm not sure at what point i mistakenly fell into a cat nap at my desk but i soon paid the price at nightmares am i pretty daddy deep muffled voice blowfly sprawled across her face that was framed with golden hair blacked wing spots covered her eyes and mouth am i pretty she didn't sound like sophia the face of my dead daughter good lord i'm jumping right into it nothing more it must have been hard for her to speak flies coated her throat like popping candy bursting and buzzing as she spoke daddy did you doze off again she giggled in a voice that was not her own flies crawled around her face aimlessly worrying buzzing buzzing until i swat one crawling up my arm i woke up groaning with the jolt my wrist pink where i slapped myself awake the monstrous foyer of the museum still clapping with an echo my paperwork sprawled everywhere across my table stressing me again just as easily as it had put me to sleep lists of last week's casualties notes on tonight's guest complaints all forms of boring paper unstuck itself from my arm and fluttered to the ground floor from my reception desk one floor up the ocean exhibit and the unconscious escapism that naps brought me was my only liberation from the museum though that was the time before sleep brought nightmares when i went to check my watch i noticed i hadn't smacked a fly after all a glass butterfly had become mere bits of translucent wing that coated my fingers like glitter i rubbed my hands and the clear fragments bloated gracefully down the marble stairs in a breeze like tiny mosquitoes or dust specks sparkling in the beams of moonlight trickled in through the glass ceiling for a moment i wish it had stung me and taken me to a better place at least then i couldn't dream of blowflys coming out of my dead daughter's mouth ron and jill and the rest of the maintenance staff packed up and left the bustling noise was gone there's no more work to be done except wait for more wealthy deplorable people to arrive i was alone again the only staff member in the museum and i let my mind freely slip into a different time a time before i was the tour guide it was time to open shop i combed my hair pulled my shirt collar free from my waistcoat shined my shoes down the marble staircase i went tapping down the steps through the butterfly dust like headlights and fog the clock struck six o'clock the museum was now open for the evening and only for the rich folk waiting outside i pulled the large door open it groaned and echoed in the museum's enormous foyer seven aristocrats haughtily strode inside three men and four women clad in fancy dresses and coats one man took a while to come up to the front steps and enter the museum carrying his wooden cane the door will start immediately there's a coat rack to your a girl maybe eight or nine came quietly through the door in a teeny black suit her unsure gaze scanned the four-year top to bottom her eyes large glossy globes she shouldn't be here i didn't see her on the register i thought she won't survive here kneeling i spoke hello miss the girl shyly leaned from behind the frame of the front door her skin turning as pale as the ivory marble flooring this must have been the first child to set foot in this godforsaken place and for good reason which of these people are your parents i tried hard to keep a warm smile nothing she simply glared at me with two shiny eyes under a blonde curtain of hair she doesn't speak sonny man with the wooden cane cleared his throat didn't speak the whole ride here won't speak now doesn't respond to anything at all really one big nose snobby woman put her coat on the rack probably deaf i stood thinking for a while my face contemplating changing in the light looking around at the billionaires in the foyer they already looked ready to sink their teeth into the exhibitions or worse bringing her along with the rest of the group in the museum tour was simply not an option fortunately for her it was a requirement for me to understand the basics of at least 20 languages to allow for appropriate interaction with the museum's guest this included sign language but my understanding tended to be rather broken i could usually only make out the main words kneeling again i spoke to her with my hands the girl gestured back to me that mommy and daddy had sent her on a visit to the museum as they were called away for a business trip in dubai how was the flight i gestured good big nose wound was very annoying she kegled and gestured that i didn't need to do hand signs she could read my lips i liked her already my smile didn't need much effort anymore came naturally though i was still stuck with a child in an unforgiving place she was a rabbit running in an open field under the shadow of the museum's eagle clawed exhibitions worse the unsated bloodlust of curiosity of the wealthy free i want to take a moment to thank today's sponsor cash app cash app is here to make earning money fun other debit cards are boring but with cash app's personalization feature i can turn a picture of jeff the killer slender man into my everyday card not a hit with the waitress or my wife it's certainly important to me cash app is here to work for you to earn you money so that you can spend money on the things you love if you're weren't up to speed already cash app is way more than just a safe way to send and receive money with the cash app card you unlock a ton of perks without all the hidden fees you can enjoy benefits like exclusive early access to nationwide concert pre-sells for artists like kendrick lamar and sabrina carpenter plus discounts on everyday purchases and popular brands you're probably already spending money on you can add your card to your digital wallet to make your money moves even easier and cash app is here to make your money move faster and cash app also adds security to your money by declining suspicious card transactions and sending you a notification to make sure the payment's really you if your card's ever lost or stolen you can lock it with just one tap right in the app so you can start spending with confidence with the cash app card today so if you're looking to be more confident with your spending then now's the perfect time because you can head to the link in our description and download cash app today and make your money work for you you can get started for free and have confidence when you spend again at the link in the description starting today cash app is a financial service platform not a bank banking services provided by cash apps bank partners prepaid debit cards issued by sutton bank member fdic cash app visa debit flex cards issued by sutton bank member fdic and the bank court bank n a pursuant to a license from visa usa incorporated see terms and conditions for the sutton prepaid card sudden debit flex card and bank corp debit flex card cash app green features savings direct deposit roundups overdraft coverage and discounts provided by cash app a block ink brand visit cash app green for savings direct deposit roundups overdraft coverage and discounts provided by cash app a block ink brand visit cash dot app slash legal slash podcast for full disclosures. Thank you to Cash App for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description and we are now back to the episode. I want to take a moment to thank today's sponsor, Tushy. This is not part of the script. I have not been asked to say this. There are a few YouTube sponsorships that have changed my life and Tushy is one of them. If you have not got on the bidet train yet, I cannot explain to you how much more hygienic you are and how much more barbaric normal wiping is in hindsight. If you want to mean more as a person, you need to get one. I'm not even saying this as part of the ad. I'm just saying objectively, you can be doing better. Your life can have more meaning. Anyway, September is the month of the reset. It's time to clean up your diet, go back to the gym, fix your sleep, and admit that dry wiping is stupid, but you don't have to be dumb anymore thanks to Tushy. Tushy's eBidets instantly modernize your daily routine, making it cleaner and healthier. Using a Tushy bidet gives you a ton of advantages over regular toilet paper. It's far more hygienic because you're actually cleaning everything off instead of dry rubbing it into your skin. It reduces irritation and any pain from those special bathroom visits. And you use way less toilet paper because all you're really doing is just using the toilet paper to dry off instead of, you know, all the cleaning. I mean, just like, it's so dumb to not have a bidet. Like, think of it this way. If you're not going to have a bidet, you're going to have a bidet. Someone pooped on the floor in your house, right? Like, just straight on the hardwood. Would you just wipe it up with a paper towel? Like, would you get a dry paper towel and just scrape it off the ground and keep rubbing the paper towel until you couldn't see the streak marks anymore? No, that would be absurd. That would be a health violation. You would use Clorox wipes or some kind of cleaner, right? So then why is that the way you do it when the same stuff is on your body? There's a reason why you do it. It's because you're not going to be able to use it. You're not going to be able to use it. There's a reason, according to Tushy, that 99% of people who use Tushy's warm bidets feels cleaner and fresher after going to the bathroom. And the other 1% is, I can only imagine, the same group of people who would use a dry paper towel to get dog poop off the floor. I have never got a friend or someone I know to use a bidet who did not immediately feel like an idiot. They're always like, oh yeah, this makes sense. This is how life should be. And sure, the upfront cost compared to a 100% less toilet paper over time, you save money on something that you're quite literally flushing away. Also, the Tushy bidets mount your existing toilet in as little as 10 minutes. Depending on the model, it either sets underneath your pre-existing toilet seat or it replaces the toilet seat. There's even models that have things like a built-in dryer. And every Hello Tushy bidet comes with a 30-day hassle-free return and a 12-month warranty. Really, objectively, everyone, there's no reason to live like a wild animal. We can do better. And you can do better today. That's because for a limited time, our listeners can get 10% off their first bidet order when they use code CREEPCAST at checkout. That's right, 10% off your first bidet order at hellotushy.com with promo code CREEPCAST to start living a much more meaningful life today. Thank you to Tushy for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description. And we are now back to the episode. Thanks for watching, and we'll see you next time. Peace was a lie, however. Unsupervised, the crowd would soon find some way or another to demonstrate that they were worse behaved than the kids standing before me. A demonstration that would likely involve death. Many minutes passed that evening as me and the girl began exploring the museum. Her name was Rosie. She was a young girl who had been in the museum for a long time. She was very nervous about all the scary exhibitions. At the intersection between the art and music showcase, between another hallway leading to a locked door, we halted. What's down there? She pointed a tiny finger down the dark hall. That room, that room with the metal door. What's in there, guide? I know the museum from back to front. But I have to say, I've never been in there. Heightly sealed shut. No key. Oh, okay. She gave a sulking nod. Yeah, I know the feeling. I swiftly smiled to cheer her up as I ushered her into the room. The art and music space is like nothing she'd ever seen before. Her bright eyes could have lit up a candle. The towering walls and ceiling of the art exhibit were flowing waves of sand that changed and hissed as they rolled. One moment, the walls painted a shifting mural of starry night. Waves of blue and yellow sand curling and shifting from one famous artwork to another. The wall to our left painted the scream. She spread her fingers into the sand waterfall. Flow between her digits like she had pinched salt. It's so beautiful. She gestured, her mouth agape at the ceiling. I tapped her on the shoulder so she could read my lips. We don't just house paintings here. Take a look at these. Leaning one hand against a small glass cabinet, we gazed in. Two brightly colored shoes were set upon an ivory silk sheet, iridescent against the changing colorful backdrop of the sandy walls. They gleamed bright enough to show their true crystalline translucency. Beneath the glass cabinet, the clumsy dancers. She wasn't truly impressed until I heartily slapped the cabinet. The knocking suddenly turned the empty shoes alive, tapping and dancing upon the silk beneath them. One dance changed to another. Another became a twirl. They gracefully ended their tango with the famous moonwalk shuffle. "Wow, what are these?" She pressed her hands against the glass. If she were any closer, they might have kicked her. "Well, some people might have a good voice. A fantastic, fantastic singing voice." I took out my satin cloth and began polishing the glass as I spoke. "Some people have the rhythm for soulful moves. These shoes right here, they bridge the gap." She was glaring at me with wide eyes, listening, with them, too, pulling the weight of ears that couldn't hear. "They were developed sometime between the 60s and 70s. Helped push the dancing and nept singers into superstardom by giving them a dancing edge, too." I gestured her onto the next display against one sand waterfall. For a moment, I caught a sparkle in her eye. Her hair and bright grin reminded me of my dearly departed daughter, filling me with a long-forgotten warmth. "I bet I'm having more fun than you are right now, Rosie." She took a seat. "What's this, Guide?" Upon the table before her, a small white pin lay over a graphite and ash-speckled stone tablet. When I pointed to the thin edges of the black plate, she caught the stretched golden placard that said "Ballpoint Stone." Her head twisted around me, eagerly waiting. "Go ahead. You'll see." I nodded, and she turned back around. Her hand grabbed the pin, met the plate with a blocky tap. Abruptly, the wall of sand bloomed a pale white, save for tiny imperfections of dotted peach-colored sand that gave it the impression of an art canvas, other than plain paper. As her hand swirled upon the plate, blotches of black sand circles formed and swirled against the wall's coarse current. "Draw something, Rosie. The plate knows what you will draw and will guide you." She heard first. She shook the back of her golden head a few times. An eight-year-old perfectionist. In that moment, I smirked when I pictured her rolling up her suit sleeves to get the work done right. I laughed when she really did it. "Is that me?" I let out, staring at the sand wall. A man with brown hair emerged on the moving canvas, dressed in an absolutely dashing maroon waistcoat. "Must be me." The drawing was a bit beyond an eight-year-old's range of skill. We had the pen and plate to thank for that, though she was doing a beautiful job showing off. "Wow. Looks great, Rosie." She had all my attention when she began drawing another figure. "Who's that beside me now?" "OK, here we go." "Uh-oh, here it is." "And here it is." "I was gonna say, I'm like, listen, I like this whole fucking Harry Potter fun time thing, but let's, you know, let's, let's get into it and here we go." "I thought it was gonna get broken up with like, they busted open like the spiders, the time spiders or something and like, yeah." "I don't know what it is, but the trope of like little girl drawing horrible thing is always so frightening to me. I'm always just like, it's any time, it's like the same thing as like when a, any time a child draws something, or like when your dog is sitting looking, looking at a corner and you're just like, what are you looking at that I can't see? It's fucking horrifying." "Yeah. There's been multiple nights I'm going to bed and the dog's just locked in down the hall." "Oh my God, I hate it." "I get up and I'm like pushing the dog, like stop, quit, what, just quit." "In the sand of the towering wall before me, a gawky shape appeared that bloomed big black blobs. It looked familiar, yet terrifying. Diabolical sharp nails protruded from its lanky black arms." "Right. Right." "Was he?" "Nothing. She kept scribbling away tirelessly at the plate." "Okay. This is where I would slap the plate. I would slap the pen or I'd get a spray bottle, and I'd start spraying water." "Yeah, you'd keep a spray water bottle for the guest." "Always, yeah. Bad. Bad Rosie. Bad." "The thing loomed over my figure on the drawing on the wall. Sand flowing, the creature looming, looming, looming. It was a sickening animation. One ghoulish jaw hung free over its disgusting long neck." "R-Rosie!" It engulfed my head, thin pencil-like teeth cut through my childishly drawn throat, red sand suddenly coughing and spitting out of the wall and onto the museum floor. Staining Rosie's shirt like bloody rain. Rosie! I grabbed her by the arm. What the hell are you drawing? I liked yelling at a deaf child. It's for me, not her. She glared up at me with glossy eyes like she was about to cry. It wasn't me. I lifted her from the seat and plopped her upon the floor that was littered with speckles of red sand. Turned to the wall and pointed at her depiction of me. See? That's you. My heart was racing. Did the museum make her draw this? And her shaky arm slowly drifted to the black figure. That's Mr. Sleepy. Good God. Okay. Hey, you want to go see the living wall? You should touch it. Feels warm. Yeah. Rosie, it was a lot of fun hanging out, but you got to get the hell out of here. Thank you. Touch the death wall. Oh, yeah. It was so fun hanging out here. Go touch that wall. Why? No, just, just y'all give a big hug. Also to the, uh, whenever you're first reading this, I, I pictured that the, the, the person, the tour guide, I thought that they were like late teens, early twenties, maybe, but this seems like it might be like an older, maybe not older, but like thirties, maybe. Oh yeah. He's been here a while. Yeah. He's been here a long time. Yeah. Yeah. For sure. I imagine late thirties, early forties kind of thing. But not like, not in like a broad, like age kind of guy, like a Steve Buscemi and Fargo kind of thing, like a sort of squirrely picked on kind of guy, you know? Oh, you're picturing him like, like that? No, not in appearance wise. I just mean kind of in like the smaller frame. Oh, I see. The museum people are more like degrading to him kind of thing. Sure. Right. I felt sick. I had tried so hard to pull her away from the mayhem, but the museum had bitten back. Come with me. I said sternly, and she took my hand. Off we went quickly, downstairs to the Indoor Forest Exhibition. How to keep her safe, no more misadventures. As we left, Mr. Sleepy turned his head and stared at me with his vacant, horrifying, sandy eye sockets. I didn't tell her that. I do like the animated sand thing. Like, that's pretty sweet. Yeah, yeah. I remember, have you ever been to one of those places where they have like the, it's for kids, the geography thing, where they can move sand and it shows them how the topography changes and like where water would go and stuff like that? I think we had something like that. It was in Kansas City. It was called like Science City or something. But it was like, yeah, like basically like a big area for, it was like little in sections or whatever, but it was like a scientific or like a little play area that like taught you stuff, whatever. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I imagine like that, but it's like vertical on a wall. Yeah, pretty sweet. Also, too, just the idea that you draw something and it like basically becomes real up there. Yeah, like animating itself to life is pretty cool. It's fun. We saw a few distant visitors along the way to the forest room. They roared with laughter, screamed, ushered her along with me, holding her hand tight. For a while, things were much calmer in the forest room. I explained to the girl that it was partly an aviary and reassured her the birds still got sunlight through the glass ceiling when it was daytime. Though, this evening, only moonlight beamed through into the museum's indoor forest. Rosie and I startled a few birds, crunching the bark upon the ground as we delved deeper. Quiet, Rosie. Gestured this way. Yes, we have to be quiet. I pointed to a display next to us that was wedged between two well-trimmed trees. It was dark, but we managed to make out the shape of a person inside. That tree looks like a man. That's because it is. Her eyes lit up as I whispered, still clenching my hand tightly. An experiment gone wrong. We house it here so it can sleep. He's not human. Not anymore. Feast through his roots or anyone stupid enough to get close to him. I like how this kid, like, gets possessed and draws one creepy thing. And he's like, all right, well, you want to come see the tree person? Don't let him eat you. I like, so, and just to make sure, fucking Mr. Zequel, whatever, he's coming over and he's like. Zequel. The sand is chasing them, right? Or is it saying that, like, a paranormal entity is chasing them, but it's not necessarily the sand. It's just, like, whatever entity was drawn. That's, like, kind of, like, coming after them now. Or at least has its sights on them. I don't think anything's chasing them. Oh, okay. So then I'm like, yeah, well, I don't know. It was just a thing of, like. Well, let's go. And it seems like they're cutting through, like, a dangerous area for whatever reason. No, no, no. So it's, what I'm reading it as is that drawing freaked him out, so he leaves, right? Oh, okay. So he takes her over to a different exhibit, but they have to be quiet because of the things in the exhibit. I see. I think. Nothing can be heard in the dark indoor forest. Only that of the crunching of leaves as she moved to press her nose against the glass. The screech. Rosie, don't make too much noise. What's his name? What's his name? No name. Gently pulled her away from the exhibit. Fucking grabbed underneath her armpits and fucking threw her over his head. Just hugged her straight over. Though some guests call it the slumber ghoul. He's relatively harmless. Though one of our poor janitors fell asleep in here during one of these long evenings. Never woke up. Oh, God. The slumber ghoul. The slumber ghoul. That's great. That's awesome. He's called, yeah, he's called the, if you come near me, I'm going to fucking kill you guy. He's. He's not that dangerous. We just call him the Holocaust death machine. Five thousand. Yeah. Which, you know, he's relatively harmless. But if you go near him, he skins you alive and puts you into a fucking juicer. Okay. Okay, cool. Thank you. Yeah. Oh, that guy. That's just the sodomizer. Eight thousand. The what? Excuse me. When you're a little older, I'll tell you what that means. Okay. Her hand tightened around mine. They see. Eat you through your dreams. And if you're really tired, you don't even have to be asleep to feel it happening. Good fucking Lord. Why don't you keep some of this information away from the kid? Just, you know, let's go look at the fish. Let's go. Yeah. Why don't we get, Hey, let's go to the gift shop. Yeah. They have a gift shop where it's just like a little cartoon depictions of all the stuff that wants to kill you. Yeah. Wasn't that fun? Remember, you remember I was dying in here and they can get a key chain. There's a little bear with the t-shirt. That'll be $500. Yeah. It's $500. Well, you're rich, dude. Come on, pay it. Yeah. Who cares? That was all I had to say. She pulled my arm in a hurry towards the door. Sorry for scaring you, Rosie. Well, I mean, duh, shit. Sorry, kid. What are we Puritan now? What's the problem? We had almost made it to the back door when a couple of blue butterflies fluttered and landed on her hair. She had almost lifted one onto my finger leaves crunch behind us. One of the deplorable rich people had found us. He was scrambling around in the dark, reaching out with hands, unable to see his hand, met the cabinet that housed the tree man. The idiot sounded a loud honk as his fingers slid across the glass. Without warning, he smashed the glass, cackling as he ran out of the forest aviary and back to the halls. Okay, so I get like these guys being like killers and wanting stuff to die, but they keep describing them like giant toddlers. What's this? Like he smashes glass and runs away. I do like these this very like Looney Tunes esque way that like these billionaires like walking around with like I imagine like pinstripe, you know, like the classic burglar look. I keep picturing that there's all these like like burglar billionaires walking around with like giant sacks that have a dollar bills on it. And then they like run off and they make like weird vaudeville cartoon sounds. Because there was that. There's like the cage. And then they're looking at the venomous butterflies and they're like, don't shut the door. Let them free. And also like the level of like supposedly important and rich people casualties this museum has would be staggering, you know? Yeah, I mean, it'd be fucking it'd be a lot. Rosie tried to free from my hands grip, breaking into a sprint to no avail. It's okay, Rosie, the back door. Let's go. We jogged quickly through the trees, crunching bark and waking birds as we went running. The door to the aviary sounded a clack. Somebody was locking us in. I jimmied the rest of the doorknob at the back to no avail. The door first clicked, then bumped with no groan as it stubbed to a sudden shut. It widened little enough that I swore I won't be able to even fit a few fingers in the gap. Mr. Sleepy, Mr. Sleepy is coming. Something is in the way. I grunted. Suddenly, the girl drummed a few fist hammers on my leg. She kept hammering on the side of my leg. Rosie pouted a worried face at the artificial tree line before rummaging her face into one of my black pant legs away from something horrible. Yonder the trees, it towered with flesh irregular and charred black like an ashen log. Its mouth hung unhinged, wide open and ghoulish, its eyes a vacant white. It was watching us. Rosie. I held the girl by her shoulders. Rosie, it's okay. He can't get us. The girl looked up with glossy eyes. Monster. She gestured. It cannot touch us if we're well-slept. Stay awake, okay? Gave her a warm look, but it was quickly cracking. Mr. Sleepy. We shared a gaze for as long as she could muster before her eyes met the ground. Rosie, I want you to stay calm when you answer my question, okay? I had to balance my gaze between her and the thing in the trees. Rosie sniffled and nodded. Did you sleep much on the flight to the museum? My eyes started to movement behind us. Blackened stumps were like should-be slogged under the cool, moving weighted like an unrooted oak. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Very slow step it took made its torso contort with a sickening crack as if its bones had snapped and twisted. Its mouth had since widened enough that it could fit Rosie's beautiful, ripened head inside. Rosie, did you sleep? crack. Rosie! Crack, crack. Like a fever dream, I saw blowflies crawling over her eyelids and her mouth, just like my dead daughter, Sophia. Am I pretty, Daddy? I snapped out of it. Rosie, please! I boomed, shaking her. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. I had to get her out. I couldn't lose her. Not again. I shot up from my knees, launching her onto my shoulders and bolted towards the other door. Her head bounced around while I ran, but when I steadied, we made out the ghoul. It was looming close, a mere twenty paces away. Its torso flailed with a disjointed crack in directions perpendicular to its body. Hold on! I announced as I held Rosie to my chest. I extended a leg and launched a kick into the door. Curses under my breath could not drown out the sickening sound behind me. All I could think of was that I had to get Rose out, and that its step sounded like boot, meaning snail. Get in! I said, and her shoes popped on the ground. This time, I held my kick as one shoe planted against the door. I could not open it wide enough for myself, but pressing the door with my boot made it groan wide for her to enter. For a split second, I worried about the rich people through the door and in the halls, too. One long, unending nightmare. I finally broke through. The rich people who had been blocking the doors shut went sprawling like cockroaches under a bright light. They cackled maniacally as they ran through the halls. Almost got you! One of the rich men laughed as he went around a bend, his voice becoming distant as he ran. I do like that at least they're keeping them consistent that way, that they're just as immature as the child that he's watching after. Or not even like, Rosie's more mature than these people are, but I do like this idea of like, it's a playground. Like, it's a museum, but this is just like a sadistic fucking playground. I mean, it's like they're just doing whatever they want with all the toys on display. Again, it's campy, obviously, but it's like a fun camp, you know? No, I think so. It's very, uh, it's very like Hunger Games. audience-esque, you know? Well, I, even the outside of the camp, to me, I'm like, this is just the actual horrifying part of being like, being a tour guide for a secret fucked up museum for billionaires. I would expect them to, it would be a, uh, what is this? Sodom and Gomorrah kind of like fucking crazy party, whatever kind of vibe. Yeah. Yeah. I could see that. Especially, you know, no cameras, no rules, no witnesses kind of thing. Yeah, exactly. They couldn't keep getting away with this. They couldn't keep tormenting me in the museum for sickening entertainment. Wait here, told Rosie. She was a ball on the ground, shaking and sobbing. I shot up on two legs in a rush and gave chase. Uh, he, it can be assumed he locked the door back, right? I would have to, well, actually, I don't know. They didn't specify it, so maybe not. I almost assumed that he just ran as soon as the door burst open, they just started running. So, and also it seems like before in the last post, I don't know, it doesn't seem like locking or closing doors is a part of his itinerary. It's not a, not a standard operation around these parts. The rich prick ran and ran, his hands screeching against the walls of the tight corridor. Our museum's greenhouse is on either side. You almost killed Rosie. Sprinting, I'd almost caught up with him. He was in arm's reach. Stop running. His leg caught itself beneath one foolish stride. He went tumbling into one wall before pushing off of it and into another, smashing the glass and halfway tumbling into the greenhouse. Spectacles had come away from his face. Blood drained and trickled towards his scalp as he hung over shards of the broken window. Starlight flooded in from the greenhouse and blanketed his face in a greenish hue. Help me, coarsely pleaded. One arm reached up at me, wanting to be pulled away from the glass into safety. Inside, Holly, our greenhouse Venus flytrap with the mouth to fit a man, twisted and loomed in the evening light. She was a ginormous, beautiful plant. Hungry, too. The man's head tilted backward and said, He wriggled and wormed, trying to free from the glass that struck through him. I reached one hand outward to lift him, then stopped myself. Rosie's smile glowed in my mind like hot steel. My daughter, Sophia, had that smile. A smile he wanted to take away. My arm retracted. Lift me out of here! Hurry! I glared at him, unblinkingly. Then it was over. With one swift swoop, Holly swallowed his torso. Green, hairy fingers, from her lips snuggly tightened around his body like mossy bandages. My employment contract has been broken, and I shall be punished. Globules of thick slime dripped from the flytrap's lips. Arms and legs burst out of her mouth as she chomped. When I returned to Rosie, I held her hand tighter than I had the entire evening. I held and held her hand all night until it was time for her ride to pick her up from the museum's courtyard. Broken glass and escaped exhibitions tend to be the majority of the damage, and for a few hours, I swept. When everyone had left, all that was left for me to do was sit at my reception table and wait for sunrise. My contract had been broken. I let a guest die at my hand. They were always all despicable, I suppose. But that one had to die. Rosie's warmth that had gripped me so tightly dissipated hours after the museum turned quiet. Everything was cold again. I miss my daughter. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you like Rosie. There'd be more rich guests to torment me next week. And there was no escape. I thought about the ocean exhibition I visited earlier in the evening. The anglerfish and I are one and the same. I love you, Sophia. I slumped at my table. I lay broken and bruised. Rested my head upon folded arms, ready to let sleep come to me. I hope I don't dream of you, my girl. I want to see the blowflies again. For a while, nothing. Then, something quite curious. For the first time in 15 years, the museum's phone rang. End of part two. It's always interesting with these stories because this seems like a story, and correct me if I'm wrong, this seems like a story where it was like, well, I'm just gonna like kind of like write a bunch of first part stuff and if something takes hold, then I'll just add on to it. Right? Yeah. It always, I always think that these things do way better when you get to know, like, I always like every time that these like little like vignette stories, it always gets a lot more fun. And I always think that these things do way better when you get to know, like, I always like every time that these like little like vignette stories, it always gets a lot more fun. And I always think that these things do way better when you get to know, it always gets a lot more fun the farther it goes along because they're like, you get a little, know a little bit more about the character each time. And I think the way that this story is kind of like, it's like, to me, it feels like a fucked up Harry Potter book, doesn't it? Like, kind of like in Harry Potter, there's like the fucked up tree that like, it'll swipe at you. There's like these little things that are almost like childlike, but then all of a sudden it'll kind of like hit you, hit you with something heavier. But I do, I'm wondering if it's going to keep that kind of that tonality the entire time. And I keep wondering myself too, how did he get this job? And is there something that he didn't like it? Is this job almost like a prison sentence or something? You know, like, is he actually being paid for this? Or is this maybe one of those things now that he's here? He can't leave, you know? Well, you would assume so. I mean, anytime you have like a thing like this, you're, you're disposable, you know? Yeah. They're not just going to let him quit. Because that one line I really liked a lot was you broke your contract. You're going to be punished. It'd be kind of cool to see more of the organizers, which I may, I'm sure we'll get into as we're going on. Cause we're getting ready to be on part three of five, but I, it'd be cool to see like who's running the museum and what does that punishment look like? I hope we get to explore that a bit. Cause that'd be a lot of fun. I think this setup of having kind of these comically rich people in these like fantastical settings is a cool idea. Cool idea. And I think it's going to be a lot of fun. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. And I like the recurrent stuff of like Mariette and the sleep demon or whatever. I think that's fun. I think so too. I think, I hope that they keep that consistent though. Like my, my fear is that I think that it's a fun thing to, I would like to see that develop more like how crazy and childlike that these billionaires are, these rich people and like how they act in this museum. I hope that's expanded upon. And like all of a sudden it doesn't just shift to where it's like, now we're very serious and whatever. Like, I hope it stays that in that land. It's okay. If they introduce like a serious group who like runs the museum, that I agree. I do like the billionaires being like childish. It also makes, it also makes them more susceptible to just all the like traps that are like lying around. Like they're not taking any of it with any kind of like sincerity. So they just keep fucking dying. I think it's fun. But I do think like the second part, it was really fun having, even though it was kind of random of just like, by the way, my kid's dead. You're like, what? You know, that kind of came out of nowhere. But I hope that I'd like to know more about this guy. Like, it'd be cool to know more about him and like why he's in this situation and more importantly, why he can't leave. Yeah. I like the idea of him kind of being like victim of, uh, or not him being victim. I like the idea of these guys kind of falling into these ludicrous traps. Like the last guy dying to a giant Venus fly trap, like a little shop of horrors. That's really fun. I think so too. Also, I wonder what the consequences are for that where it's like, Oh, the owner of FedEx died. Well, oops. See, I, I, I wonder for, wonder for legal reasons you couldn't do that, but that would be really, really fun. Yeah. Dave FedEx is at the museum that day. Mr. FedEx. He keeps boxing ship. He keeps boxing shit and trying to like, put like, send it off. You can't take the museum pieces, Mr. FedEx. Why not? Or the guy, I like the idea that the president of FedEx is obsessed with packaging. Me too. I like that. He's like overnight shipping. They're like, no, Dave. Put it down. No, Dave, put it down. And then he looks at the guide. He's like, he actually invented overnight shipping. Did you know? That's Dave FedEx, by the way. You're like, who gives a fuck? Mr. FedEx. He invented the idea of putting things in boxes and putting them somewhere else. Yeah. Wow. Also, in part one, I completely imagined that the Richie guy who killed that woman, I imagined that as Mark Zuckerberg. Dude, I was going to say the same thing. I was thinking the exact same thing. That is so funny. Literally, though, yeah, like casualty. It's just like, oh, yeah, so this is pretty much funny. And then I pictured when he pushed her into the flesh wall. Since, like, a big meme right now is Mark is, like, I don't know, like Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I imagined him, like, dance kicking her like Eddie from Tekken into the wall. He did. Like, that look he gave was like that dead lizard eye stare he did during his, like, testimony in front of Congress. She's a bug. She's a bug. She's not real to me. She's not. I feed bug. I feed bug to the wall. That's cool. Yeah. That's pretty cool. Insect into the wall. I feel nothing. I don't feel anything. I'm going to go. I want to go buy something. Awesome. Thanks. I have a feeling that guy's going to come back, though. A hundred percent. And I, like I said, my bear trap is that it's the museum's son. Like the museum, the museum's owner's son is what I think. I could believe that. Yeah, I could take that. It just feels like it feels like. All the other, uh, all the other billionaires have been childish, but he feels very, it feels like very snotty. Like my dad owns a dealership kind of vibe. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Definitely like third generation wealth kind of thing. Whatever. My dad will just buy it. Who cares? The way, the way he said, my dad owns a dealership. Like in your mind, the pinnacle of wealth is your father owns a car dealership. I, ever since I've watched that Aqua, it's from an Aqua teen hunger force episode. He's like, his dad owns a dealership. My dad owns this dealership. I know, but now every time I think of like a, a kid who thinks he's wealthy, it's always like a guy who owns his dad owns a dealership. Exactly. Yeah, it's perfect. Part three, part three, part three, the guests are trying to kill me. Oh, good. This week, I found myself scrubbing away at the scatterbrain mirror in the paranormal wing of the museum. The premise was simple. The mirror's deep Navy and galaxy sparkled reflection would read your eyes. Yeah. And the deepest whores and fears from the recesses of your mind would scatter onto the mirror. Like brain paint. If I'm being completely honest, utterly dreaded cleaning the mirror. I hated seeing my daughter's distorted face staring back at me or the reanimated whores of the museum eating away at my flesh. Yes. I'm talking about you. Marriott appeared my head out of the large doorway to the plastic doll and her display. It'd be fun with these. I know that like people don't really include a lot of like photos and stuff on these are slash no sleep stuff. It'd be fun. If you're like. Like a museum person, just to give a visual of like, just like a hand drawn map or something, even on a napkin that you scan and just upload. I feel like that would make it a lot more immersive to like, that'd be kind of fun. Yeah. Just like a picture of the map. Or maybe for this one, you could have a picture of the mirror, you know, in a room or something like that. Just like little things of like, as if he's on his break, like in the break room and it's just like a little, a doodle, things like that, I think could make it feel more personal too. Like that'd be kind of. Yeah. I think they flesh out a world. Yeah. microfiber cloth polished the blood and muck from the corners of the mirror's golden ornamental frame. It reached between the crevices of the perched gargoyles it depicted in its etchings around the rim of its face. Around the center, I swirled and swirled until it was squeaky tidy. When I saw my daughter Sophia, I met her imaginary hand at the interface of the reflection with mine. When I saw a monstrous exhibition standing behind my shoulders, I rolled two unimpressed eyes. Cleaning carried my mind to the clouds, and I thought about the museum rather than the labor ahead of me. I guess there is great fear in unknowing, and like a disease, the fear I once had for the museum's daunting artifacts soon spread to another host once I became accustomed to its horrifying mechanisms while living in its belly for so long. The unpredictable fear and excitement of the building bit the wealthy visitors like a rabbit dog. My panic no longer grew from the museum's walls, but blossomed from the cruel, diseased hearts of the deplorable rich people that visited. I could always predict the way the museum would react, ever the manner human malice could. And every week, I had no choice but to confront those who visited the museum and mold myself to their erratic and sickening behavior. It was the same fear that gripped me 15 years ago before I signed the employment contract, the fear I had in my 20s, the fear that came from finding out my daughter's cancer was untreatable without chemotherapy. We were young, and my job didn't pay enough for costly therapy. Hopelessness met me at the end of an empty whiskey bottle which had stared at me accusingly until the very last drop. I was a failed father with nothing but time on his hands to watch my daughter Sophia wither away and observe her joyful, smiling soul fall through my fingers like sand. That was, till the day I saw a strange article in the newspaper. "Tour Guide Wanted," it read. When I saw the salary listed, it was a not-dollar sign, but my daughter's bright smile. My mind's eye witnessed her future graduation, her wedding, the second chance from the cruel illness that had been pulling her away from my arms and into a child-sized coffin. Oh man, what a brutal sentence. I know. Good word. Like I said, I always feel like every time they, every time you get deeper into these, these little vignette stories, they always go so much harder. I, I don't know why. It just always feels like they're, I mean, you just build stuff with the characters and like, it makes it more meaningful. Like if that sentence was dropped, like beginning of the first story, it'd be, we'd be kind of like, okay, that's harsh off the top, whatever, but we've spent enough time with this guy that it like, it's impactful. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, it's, it's yeah. Imagine if the first, like the first paragraph had my child dragged from her future wedding to a child's eyes coffin and be like, Ooh, all right, dude, I feel like knowing you, you would be like, oh, I am in. Cause I mean, I would be, you'd be like, holy shit. That'd be fucking crazy. Yeah. Okay. Okay. If the story continued in that tone. Yes. But if I read that and then the next sentence was anyway, we pass the living wall, the sleepy poo poo man. And it's like, okay, I'm getting a little conflicting vibes here. Where are we going? It's like JK Rowling doing like a, like pieces together with a different author. All right. You take this section. I'll take this section. Yeah. The girl who named an Asian character, ching Chong chong, dude. It's Cho Chang, dude. Come on. That's the same. That is the same thing. The instantly recognizable Cho Chang from JK Rowling's extremely diverse catalog of characters. Yeah. Well, every character follows the same naming pattern where it's like stereotype Mick, like descriptor quality or whatever. Uh, and so it's like, yeah, if we had a sentence like that followed by anyway, the glass butterflies were venomous. It would be like off putting, but the way the stuff's a bit, because again, people all the time be like, oh, you don't like quirky. You don't like whimsy. I don't like whimsy details when it undercuts. I just want to be consistent. But because the story established exactly because the story established its tone off the back, then it stays in that tone throughout. And I'm fine reading a fun story and it can be campy as long as it knows it's doing that. And if I had to give it a bit, sure. There's times where I might, I might be a little more vocal about not liking some of the quirky Chungus humor. Fine. It'll, you know, sue me, you know, it's just, it's a personal thing. It's, it's really when the quirky Chungus humor just like takes a serious story and knocks it down so far, but this will honestly, the story doesn't have it yet. It's just been like, I don't know. I feel like it's like the characters are, but they don't say jokes to undercut the tension and stuff like that. It's just, they, they act foolish and the world is very fantastical. So then they come across these fantastical elements and they react to them. Like people would like, please help me save me rather than like the guy falls in and he goes, well, that just happened. True. Yeah. Like a Marvel quip or something. Exactly. As long as we keep staying away too, from like, you know, Mr. Cookie feet or something like that, then I think I'll be happy. I think we'll be okay. Yeah. Yeah. Well, I mean, when a child describes something, it's Mr. Sleepy or whatever. It's like, yeah, that's how a child would describe like a sleep demon. Yeah. But wasn't, isn't that what he called? That's what he called that. He called it that though. Didn't he? He said, he said, some guests called the slumber monster. Oh, okay. I see. But she calls it Mr. Sleepy. Cause it's the way a child would describe, you know, that kind of thing. But like, because it established that tone and now we have a internal character moment, the child size coffin line feels fitting because it is in that personal turmoil rather than changing the tone of the whole story around it. Right. Versus where, unless her story would really lay on the child coffin thing at the beginning and then have a guest be like, what's her deal. She's made a plastic. That's weird. You know, stuff like that. What the hell? Awkward. Yeah. Yeah. They think they come up to the case with Mariette inside and the Mark Zuckerberg guys, like, so I guess she tried to cancel him. And then actually, to be fair, if you did make all the billionaires, like the, like that kind of humor, it'd be kind of, I don't know, I don't know. It'd be kind of funny watching Mark Zuckerberg, Brazilian jujitsu, kick a woman into a full flesh wall. And then like Mark Cuban comes around the corners, like awkward sauce. if if it stayed consistently and that that'd be fine yeah yeah that'd be okay yeah yeah but so far there hasn't been jokes to undercut the threat of stuff around them which i appreciate there's still time there's still time there's still time though the employment contract to be the tour guide at the private museum was simple yet unforgiving the paycheck was huge enough to solve my personal woes and help my family though the paperwork was littered with strange clauses most of which ended with an event of breaching this agreement employee is subject to immediate termination and a sanguination what the fuck excuse me you want to run that last part by me again if you don't know what a sanguination means it's a showy word to describe draining your circulation of blood thank you story i was 20 something desperate and i'd guess the word meant that they were going to forcibly take me from my property later when i found out what it meant i consoled myself it was merely a sick joke no organization simply murdered unruly employees my wife however didn't find it amusing though desperation took me propelled me to sign up for sofia's sake and the museum held me in its jaws for 15 years the contract was indefinite an early termination would result in one thing a sanguination this was no known organization no one would hear me scream not even god and in this place there was no god only the rich and famous last week when i picked up the phone a voice sprinkled with familiarity met my ear it was the voice of someone i had heard before sounding deep and curdled between a beast lips it was the museum curator and i had not spoken to him in 15 years since the day he presented me with my contract hi dear boy oh he boomed a hissing of stubble sounded through the archaic museum phone who is this he bellowed a fat man's laugh oh you don't recall after a short chat he coughed into the phone to break the ketchup what i try to say lad is that i appreciate your commitment to the museum that i do that i do for the guest list tonight he paused murmuring gibberish as he read something yes yes five will be attained to function tonight four of which are guests i nodded to myself i was off the hook but why was he calling me great out the last attendee is not a guest rather will be there for your aforementioned extinguishing i think my heart stopped it excuse me oh it's not all bad chap if the attendee is incapacitated and able to carry out the clause of your contract uh kill you we'll be seeing you on time for next week cheerio phone clicked off i see i like that it's just that casual by the way you're going to fucking die by the way a guy's coming he's gonna take all your blood good luck figuring out who it is but if you can kill him first you can still clock in all right see you next week see you next week bye it was a painful week after that night my heart never left my throat every waking moment my mind would drift and be reminded that someone was coming to the museum to end me i suppose that was always a risk when giving tours to the deplorable brats that but this was different whoever it was their sole goal was to leave my body cold and lifeless i checked my watch after i had finished polishing the mirror and began walking towards the enormous foyer uneasiness as well as my turning stomach almost made me forget i had to feed tooth fairy up the stairs i went and down the halls passing the lock steel door on my way i never opened that door and it always tickled my curiosity that there was absolutely no way inside without a key besides it was a matter for another time the guests were going to arrive in 15 minutes so was my executioner i really hope the tooth fairy is fed with teeth oh for sure at the end of the flowing walls of the music and art exhibition was a dimly lit doorway that i rarely entered outside on a large golden placard of the entrance tooth fairy the room inside was a dark cube space with painted black walls a single spotlight illuminated the painting hung in the center of the furthest wall a horrifying face of an anguished man was brushed across the canvas that looked like a painting of a man who was in the middle of the hall it was like a hairless burning corpse its mouth and eyes were vacant holes distant white specks could be made out in the open cavities of its face teeth throatfuls and eye sockets lined with hundreds of teeth we were given this painting from a woman who saw the face move on her bedroom wall obviously no art dealers would take her up on a donation our cleaners kept the teeth from our deceased visitors corpses for a special reason it's grotesque sure but completely necessary for my maroon waistcoat pocket i pulled a handful of bloody teeth and fit them snugly in the rim of the artwork's ornamental frame monthly feeding became a ritual so he didn't leave the painting and walk the halls i hated the times i forgot to feed him the times he crawled out of the canvas die and slogged around the halls looking for me i checked my watch it was 5 59 museum was about to open i think uh i i think it's funny and i understand like with a situation like this i guess upper management assumes there will be some death um but the idea that this guy continuously leaves exhibits open gets guests killed willingly or otherwise uh forgets to feed the tooth fairy that walks around the halls and it's like well you know he's new he's got to learn the road he's been there 15 years yeah 15 years that's child's play don't you know we're immortal i think it's a thing where it's like uh it's got to be a thing where it's like he's the only person working there because he's not only like a tour guide he also like is maintenance he cleans shit it seems like he's the only person working there and they got him in a fucking blood contract now probably literally yeah yeah quickly adjusting my waistcoat and brushing my hair i came tapping down the marble staircase of the vast foyer two hands pulled open the enormous store as usual the rich folks sauntered into the museum on their invisible high horses my wandering eyes scanned and assessed them quickly and he wanted to see if i could find him and he wanted to see if i could find him one of them could be my undoing in the group of five there was two men one plump stubby another gaunt and scraggly out of the three women two were bony and frightening to look at like fleshy scarecrows with long pompous noses lastly was a lady that was quite pale and beautiful her eyes quite small in her face which was framed by ash black bangs in a ponytail that woman however stood out to me long after we had begun the tour the ponytail of her didn't stick out from her rich girl high horse rather her middle-class mannerism she carried herself with the pride that was of a hard-working businesswoman content and happy with her nine to five not the accomplished grandeur of reeling in millions of dollars of fortune from multiple estates was this her i took them through a couple exhibitions passing the glass-walled hallways between our greenhouses where holly had eaten a man the week before they clapped at the venus fly traps and said i'm not going to let you go i'm going to let you go i'm going to let you go enormous olive mouth as it twisted under the evening starlight, oblivious to its horrific history. Or maybe one of them knew. The one the curator had spoken to must have known everything. We had stopped at the paranormal wing. They saw Mariette for a while before their eyes, then set on something else. What's under here? A woman said, pulling out a display cabinet's blanket. Take a look. Pulling the fabric away with one shaky hand like a magician, terrified of failing a stunt. He had no human mouth nor teeth. His snout was the long, hairy tube appendage of a blowfly. You could see his black eyes and the incandescent light at certain angles. They had faded to pitch after many years of anguish and isolation in his glass prison. His face was a charcoal black, not gray. So was his gangly body that broke out wings and spiny limbs through his hairy graphite flesh. There was no white in his eyes, only a screen door. He had a pattern upon two bulging, dark eyeballs that housed a thousand more. He watched as some blinkingly through the glass, one deformed wing buzzing and clicking, moving. Half human, half fly. Below the display on a golden placard, it read Beelzebub. Oh, that's fun. That's a fun name. Yeah, exactly. It's just the devil. Well, Beelzebub means the lord of the flies, but the name is often applied to the devil. Yeah, yeah, yeah. The woman in a long brunette ponytail, leaned in and gawked, pressing her done-up lips against the glass with a clack. As she turned her head to say, Or shouldn't he be in the insect exhibit, guide? The thing inside the glass turned his revolting head to as if it could understand her, as if he felt mocked. There were a couple of chuckles from the rich crowd. A jaw tightened, though. They were upsetting him. He was there originally, yes. I wiped one sweaty palm against my trousers. He was brought to the museum by an anonymous donor, describing it as being the product of a "experimental chemical warfare." Oh, that's fun. The lady nodded pensively. The thing buzzed inside the glass. However, our team quickly disproved this, and our museum was unable to understand what the creature was, nor what happened to him. And so, he rots his days away, stuck in the Paranormal Wing. It's tragic, but necessary. I personally believe the person who donated him thought we were his last resort to dispose of him. Suddenly, one hairy feeler braced the glass and stuck against the barrier like a sickly black hoof. I felt queasy and wanted to move on, but the questions kept pouring. "How did he get that name?" a man's voice said from the back. "Uh, in theology, Beelzebub was one of the Seven Princes of Hell. In Ugarit, Critic, the name roughly translates to the Lord of the Flies. Miles briefly caught the thing in the display cabinet, bending its head to the side like a confused dog. One disgusting tube snout rocking back and forth like a pacifier. Does it think? I mean, like you or I? We simply don't know. Not many staff come into this exhibition chamber, let alone try to interact with the pieces. Extending one arm forward, I assured the crowd to walk on. We did for a while, until I noticed the woman with the black ponytail still pressed against the glass, gawking at the blowfly's body. Ma'am? She pointed an index finger at it for a couple moments before speaking. I want to try to speak to him. He looks like he's in pain. I don't think that's a good idea. You? You probably pass him every day you work here. She interrupted, her tone searing me like a hot coal. Giving tours, cleaning cabinets, and not once have you tried to find out if he's still human. Her finger darted against the glass to his bulbous, hairy black head. I glared at her for a while, and brooded. Did this museum guest have compassion? No, I swallowed. Was this her? The curator's inside woman? The one trying to kill me? If she got any closer to the flies, she'd be as good as dead. I thought it might be the collateral damage. We should move on. She snorted. No, I don't think we shall. The lady nodded her head towards the enclosure. Open it! You are welcome to try to communicate with it through the glass. Wrapped my knuckles against the boundary, she stared at me with shark eyes. With the glass, he's an animal. Without, he's equal. I want to speak to him as such. Now open the goddamn cabinet. I couldn't think straight anymore. Curator's game was plaguing me. This had to be her, right? She's going to let Beelzebub free and kill us? Still, I had a plan. Shouldn't! I mean, like, even within this setting, shouldn't there be a rule like one guest cannot kill all the other guests on a whim, you know? I would assume so. I think it's just the rationale. I think, too, at least giving it the benefit of the doubt in this situation. The amount of pressure that you would get from these people, and like, you kind of are. And also, too, they're not around it every day. They're not around these pieces every day. So I feel like they keep doing all this childlike shit of just being like, open the door. And he's like, okay, well, that's going to kill us. But then, like, specifically, you can't do it, or you can't, like, not obey them, which also results on, I guess, you getting a death sentence. So I don't know. That would be a rough job to have, let's just say. Yeah, needless to say. I also think that with. It's interesting to me how Beelzebub, it's like a human-fly hybrid. And they're just like, oh, I think he's like us. It's funny that, like. He's like an elephant trunk or something. Yeah. And they call it the Lord of the Flies. And I like how their empathy doesn't go to other people or anything. But it's like, this fly monster thing, I'm his friend. I'm going to be his savior. I'm going to make the connection. Like, that's where the. Savior complex or. The grace comes in. Savior complex or a thing of like, well, no one else is special, and I feel like I could communicate with it. Like, I feel like it would communicate with me. It's like such a. It's a very narcissistic, like, way of displaying that. It's like girls when they say they can talk to animals or guys. Guys when they can talk to, like. Never mind. I can talk to animals. Do what? I said, I can talk to animals. You can talk to animals? Yeah. How do you talk to animals? I say, hello. And they talk back to me. What do they say? Mostly bark, bark, and meow. Well, I guess in that sense, we can all talk to animals, huh? Yeah, that's fun. There's nothing preventing you from speaking your native language to an animal, I suppose. I guess it's the comprehension of it that's more taxing. I would never want to talk to my bass and hound tugboat. I feel like he would say horribly nasty things. What do you think, tugboat? You're a little harsh on tugboats sometimes. He's a son of a bitch. I understand that he puts you through the ringer sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes I'll see him look at you, and he's like, oh, Hunter. And you're like, you stupid, disgusting. First off, he doesn't say, oh, Hunter. He looks at me with his paper-thin face and these two jaws. Giant fucking jawbreaker-size eyes just drooping out of their eye sockets. And I can tell. I'm like, in a moment's notice. You know that thing where it's like, oh, yeah, if you die, over time, your animals would eat you or whatever, right? Right, right. That happens already. I'm not even dead. And I know that tugboat's like, at any time, I could eat that fat son of a bitch, and it would taste delicious. See, I feel like that's a bad read. I feel like. Crawdad would be more likely to eat you. Crawdad? No, she's sweet. She's a beautiful, beautiful creature. Yeah, but I feel like she's playing the long con, because you're like, oh, Crawdad, little blah, blah, blah, and she's kind or whatever, and I feel like she would just. Okay, now you're trying to make me horrified of the animal I like most in my house. That's unnecessary and extremely cruel. She's a sweet baby angel. Between my two dogs, I feel like Ollie would certainly eat me first, even though he's like the sweeter of the two. You think so? Even though he's. Even though he's the sweeter of the two, he'd be sad about it, then he'd be like, well, don't want it to go to waste. A man's got to eat. Man's got to eat. Meanwhile, Benny would be like barking and like crapping himself and spinning in circles, falling across the floor, losing his mind. He would just go hungry. He would starve. Yeah, but not out of love, out of like fear. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Out of, yeah. I don't know what's going on. So what happens? I didn't know they could do that. I've never seen that happen before. Yeah. Yeah. I mean, while Ollie's like, well, yeah, he doesn't have any teeth anymore. So he just tried to gum my lifeless corpse until something tore off. I feel like you would be. I feel like someone could gum you. I feel like you probably. I feel like you could get. I could see your body being eaten by gum. By being. Are you saying that my flesh just looks that palpable? I think it's just, I feel like you look like you're made of Jell-O. It's a crazy thing to say about a man. What do you mean by that? I don't know. I don't know. Whenever you were, when you were in person and we're obviously we're separate now. And, but I remember, I remember very distinctly being like, this is dude. He just looks like he's made of Jell-O. I have no way to do it. Also, you kept touching your arms and stuff and it would like indent in a weird way. Are you calling me? Are you calling me like fat? No, I'm not calling you fat. I'm just saying you're like shiny. You're sheen. You're like a, you're like Jell-O. You make me think of Jell-O. Like a mole. So because I have smooth skin, I'm made of Jell-O. No, no, no. See, you're trying to make sense of something that might not make sense. That might not make a lot of sense. I'm saying that I just look at you and I'm like, he looks like he's made of Jell-O. That's why I just was saying that if your dog who has no teeth, I'm like, you probably could eat him. Slurp, slurp it down like Jell-O. I don't know. I don't, I don't, I don't have all the reasonings in the world, dude. I'm a big fat man. Do you think I look like Jell-O? I think I look more like a, I think more like a. I would never say that about a man I respect. Like a cheese curd. That's what I think I look like. Would you say you respect me, Hunter, as a man? Oh, oh, absolutely. Okay. All right. Yeah. Oh, absolutely. Because I don't think I could say a man I respect look like Jell-O. I think Jell-O's, I think it's a delicious dish. I think that it's, it's timeless. See, that's the thing. I wouldn't, I wouldn't think about, I wouldn't compare my friends to tasty pastries and treats and desserts. You're not an obese man named Hunter because that's all I do. Everyone has some kind of food category. I'm like, I don't know. Even my wife. What's your wife? My wife looks like a chicken wing to me. She's a chicken. A chicken wing? Yeah. Salty. Your wife's a drumstick. Yes, exactly. Or no, a wing. A wing, you said. A wing. A wing, yeah. Okay. What's hairy? General Chow's chicken. Okay. Just kidding. I knew it. I knew. I'd set that one up on purpose. I knew it. Harry, you leave that one in. No, you cut that immediately. No. What? Okay. Here's the real one. What about Nick? Nick? Oh, God. Like. Sunflower seeds is what I think. That's such a good one for Nick. That's such a perfect. Sun. I would say, yeah. A handful of sunflower seeds. Yeah. The ranch ones. The ranch dusted ones. Good God. I'm already. My mouth is already dry. Anyway, Beelzebub, fly thing. My shaky hand gripped the master key and slowly fumbled it into the cabinet's lock. Inside, the abomination sucked its tube snout pacifier back and forth in excitement. Its thousands of eyes. I saw fresh meat. He was hungry. The woman reached her arm around and climbed into the cabinet with the creature. Her expensive slippers getting across the floor with a screech. She was talking brave before, but confronted with the towering contorted thing ahead. The lightning painted her pale face a horrid grimace. At that moment, she knew she wanted to get out. The back of the woman still hung out past the cabinet store frame in case she needed a quick exit. She didn't dare stand fully inside. Beelzebub had a few words to say, but he didn't say a word. Beelzebub could not say a word. He had to say his last words. Beelzebub did not say a word. Beelzebub would not say a word. I felt like I was going to pass out without warning. I kicked the woman forward. God! God! You're trying to kill me! It just pushes her in really quick. You're supposed to be the hero here. What the fuck? In front of a bunch of witnesses, too. My foot planted itself on her back, and she went tumbling into the enclosure and against the far end of the glass, screaming, screaming. I shut and locked the door swiftly. The curator will not have my head this evening. I found her. She's the one who wants me dead. Help me! Gasps with the crowd behind me sounded like they were wheezing into balloons. I leaned one hand against the door. You wanted to speak to him face to face. The abomination was reanimated. Spiny insectoid hooks spread from its hairy, half-human flesh. It spread and beat its ghoulish, torn wings. It was ready to feast. What the hell are you doing? One of the men behind me shouted. I turned my head to him. Complying. Suddenly, the woman's drumming fist did something the frail insect's hooves never could. She smashed a hole in the cabinet from the inside and came tumbling out onto the floor in a cascade of glass. Oh, God. One of the pompous rich men laughed. He turned to run, but the buzzing monstrosity caught him. Ha, ha, ha! From its. Ha, ha, ha! From its glass prison. It's. I like the thing. He's like. He turns to run. Ha, no! No! No! It'll definitely be out by the time this episode goes up, but for the puppet show, which of the screams of mine did you go with? Oh, I know. I can't remember. We're still messing with it right now. We'll see. Okay. I love that end scream so much. It's definitely a good scream. Don't worry. It's in there. I need to use it somewhere. Even if you don't. Fire! From its glass prison, it spurted from its mouth tube. Slime covered the man's face like sage jelly dotted with smaller, black blowflies. It was like something out of my nightmares of Sophia. The blowflies bored holes into his flesh, into his cheeks. Crawling didn't get him far. The flies were already digging. Ticking. He screamed, and the rest of the guests screamed too. Flies buried under his cheeks and came crawling out through the corners of his eyes. Red, gaping holes emerged beneath skin that popped like peach-colored balloons filled with bloody paint. The flies were even inside his gums, and the man screamed. He screamed and screamed until the screams were no more, until it was just me alone beside his corpse with the flies that crawled and squirmed inside his spiny flesh suit. On my knees, I vomited against a marble wall, my hand meeting his pool of life fluid on the floor, sanguinated. Beelzebub's mouth tube met one of the man's calves and sucked chunks of his fleshy soup up with a therp like Satan's vacuum cleaner. From crawling to standing, I broke into a sprint, managing to steady by dragging my hand against the marble as I ran. Leaving trails of bloody finger-painted lines, a grotesque artwork only the tooth fairy could appreciate. My feet skidded around the ground as I bolted around the corners, past the living wall and deep-sea exhibition. At the end of one hallway, my eye caught her ponytail that darted into the museum's theater. She was up to something. Her plan failed. Now she was finding something else to kill me. Inside, the theater was vast and ornate, with rows upon rows of silky lilac seats. Marble balconies reached out over the stage like great, expensive white clouds. Small holes projected streams of light from the theater's corners, ceiling, and stage. A brilliant blue humpback whale suspended in shifting light floated from the entrance beside me. Downhill, the slope of seats before blubbering and disappearing into the wall as the projectors flickered. Specks of light from its shooting spout had hit my face like droplets of rain and felt like cold fingers against my cheek. For a short lifespan, our theater and its holograms were real. The brunette woman didn't know that, though. She was my executioner. Maybe she did. Do we know for sure that she's actually the killer? No. Yeah, it's just he very well could just be haunting a regular woman. All right, so he'd be playing. Sure. If that's what you if that's what you want to describe it. Okay, man, fuck you. She'd be playing. I don't know. Yeah, I don't know how to respond with you speaking. Speaking in this current vernacular. So wherever you want to take it, I guess she'd be playing. I guess I slowly stepped down the staircase. She was shaking, screaming at me from the stage, her voice echoing in the enormous decorative room. Get away from me. I stepped closer, closer. She didn't stop screaming. You you rock me the cabinet with she trailed off the light stemmed to a pitch black. The next show was about to commence. Oh, boy. Trumpets suddenly boomed and shook the theater. Spotlights illuminated a single holographic soldier cleaning his rifle to the right of the stage. The next showing was a war performance I'd seen many times before. My heart was beating in my chest. The fly was searching the halls for more food and we were the closest feast. I was pleading for us to leave at the top of my lungs over the loud roaring trumpets, barely hearing my own voice. The woman backed away, tears streaming down her face and distorting her mascara. As if possessed by the museum, the soldier finished cleaning his rifle, turned and gave me a sickening grin. White light flickered a show of revoltingly sharp teeth as he loaded his rifle. I had watched his presentation hundreds of times and this was a first. I screamed. The trumpets boomed and boomed. She kept walking backwards, away from me and into the soldier's line of fire. My mouth was agape. My shrink rumbled my lungs with reverb, my soundless voice tearing away at my coarse throat. The holographic bullet tore through her skull, a hammer meeting fleshy coconut. Bits of blood and brain painted chicken pox specks of death upon my maroon waistcoat. And the projected soldier showed teeth. I thought back to the mirror I'd cleaned earlier. Scatterbrain. Animated, the museum's horrifying specter slowly bent to one knee and began loading his rifle with a non-existent bullet. That's really cool that like the hologram thing comes to life and shoots her. That's fun. And it actually is able to fucking like blow our brains out or whatever. Like it's, that's, that's, that's pretty, it's almost like magical. Like the hologram, the hologram you expect to be like, like technical projection, but it ends up being like a spirit or like a ghost. Yeah. Yeah. I tumbled over seats and stairs as I sprinted from the stage towards the entrance. Holes tearing away at the lilac fabric of the chairs as he shot, opening flaps like blooming for benna flowers. I might have thrown up again if I didn't have to keep running. Beelzebub slogged behind me distantly at the end of the hallway. His spiny, hooked feet screeching against the marble. Buzzing mocked me from behind as a deformed wing that was never meant to fly, twitched in the starlight that flooded over his hairy thorax. Guests were still screaming in the foyer. They darted in every angle like shaken ants. My hand reached for the museum's front door. My lady executioner was dead, but my eyes were traumatized with gore. I couldn't bear it anymore. I reached to pull the door open and the museum's phone rang. Once again, my heart felt like it stopped beating. I let go of my shaky grip around the cold door handle. What if the guy who got killed by the fly was the actual killer? I think that's what it is, yeah. And then, because I was going to say it's got to be something where he thinks that he's figured it out, but then it turns out that, you know, the person that he was so sure was not the person. You know what I mean? Yeah, yeah. I certainly think so. Up the stairs I went, wiping one sweaty hand against my trouser leg. Reluctantly, I reach for the phone. Hello? I really like how they're being chased by the fly thing and he's about to leave with everyone and he's like, oh, one second. Yeah. Gotta go get that. Oh, guide. Sound of the plump curator pulling from his cigarette. Your debt punishment has been paid. None of tonight's guests were anything special. I swallowed sour spit. My throat was tight. What do you mean? The middle class volunteers on luxury sponsored trip to a private museum. None were there for the exsanguination. Hey, boyo, did you prove that you belong here or what? They just sent a bunch of normal people in and it's like, let's see if he kills them. Turns out that turns out that turns out that turns out that the guide is also a fucking sadistic monster as well. So that's fun. Yeah. Oh, I know. I'm going to tell him I'm going to tell the guide that they're going to kill him and then I'm going to see him kill a bunch of normal people. But see, that explains why this woman is the is the one who's like, oh, well, maybe you should have some empathy for this. Yeah, yeah, yeah, exactly. You walk by him every day and you don't ever just fucking sit there and talk to him, which it seems like it's coming from like a snooty place. But it's like, no, he's to be fair, though, the guy has been what gas lit for 15 years, whatever. Oh, yeah, yeah. It's definitely a mind game against him for sure. Yeah, but it's just a group of normal people who's like, you see him and then the guide unleashes BLs above on him. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Yeah, exactly. That's fun. That's a really fun twist. I like that twist. He looks up. He's like, you're all normal people. Oh, shit. I slammed the phone on my reception desk. The sound of plastic echoing throughout the foyer and ringing him. in my ears. - The beelzebub just walk around with this like snort, this is like sucking it out sorry it's like a train station almost and his office is like a desk that overlooks the foyer and he's like oh my gosh what have i done and meanwhile on the ground like people being ripped apart yeah yeah it's the it's the worst version of undercover boss imaginable we sent five normal people to see what the guy does kills everyone yeah exactly they're all just dead gold feeling flooded my chest my horrible realization dismantled me this week the guests never did anything particularly dreadful it was me alone who had cornered them into hell from fear of losing my own life my punishment from the curator was never death it was torment was i a monster too yes yes for a while i cried in the foyer as he's crying they're still just getting dismantled yeah open the door i have got a lot of learning to do after day after today there's three of them like crying trying to break down the door and it's eating one of them right next to him please god i've got to see a therapist i've got to start talking to someone about oh good golly wait does the does the health plan coverage do it he starts like flipping through a manual and like they're getting you see an arm fly through the air behind him and fucking smashed him to the door i cried in the foyer oblivious to the screaming and carnage unfolding throughout the museum okay so that is what's happening it's not even not even dressing it up like as he's here having a mental breakdown it's just tears flow down my face and stained paperwork of dead guests he's actively like writing the names he's like looking over the balcony someone gets their head ripped off he's like and there's another one added to the list oh geez he's like drinking up there if only someone could open that door right there with this key that i'm holding oh well my hand's still shaking from fear and dread from the museum's looming and reanimated monstrosities beelzebub was coming i didn't like what i was becoming it's gonna leave this dreadful museum no matter the price all right so now that's the end of part three into part four so now it's basically saying that this is his plan of like are we trying to assume by the end of part three he's like that was the straw that broke the camel's back yeah all of the people that he definitely got all the normal people he a million percent killed himself yes yeah i think that's i think that was the place like i've got to get out i have i actually have a question for you this is this made me pop up here a little bit with the tour guide and stuff if this was a night at museum thing who was the robin williams of this museum you know who's the guy who's like the because rob williams is like the the one statue that helps it's i believe it's theodore roosevelt or whatever but that's the one that's the guy who helps ben stiller the whole time who would be this guy for this museum i think the implication is it'd be marriott right oh sure yeah i guess that's true well i was gonna say i was trying to think of like i mean he's obviously freaked out by her oh you're saying it wouldn't be like epstein what the equivalent be you have like epstein's you know what i mean i was like i was like wondering who that who that character would be no it'd probably be like a serial killer that's like in there like like his body like put up that would be a mind fuck of a friendship wouldn't it i hate you i hate you as a person but yeah it's like the statue is pretty cool it's jeffrey dahmer ah jeez looks like you messed up that's okay man hold your head up you're like fuck you jeffrey dahmer i don't need you thank you mr dahmer yeah thank you thank you jeffrey all right part four subtitle today i made my escape there were two unopened doors at the museum that had always haunted me since i started the first being the locked steel door i had passed countless times at the museum yet remained locked and never accessible a peculiar haunting that amounted from itching curiosity it had been swimming around in my mind since that young girl visited the museum a few weeks ago and her curiosity prodded away at its potential secondly and more horrifyingly was the shut doorway to johnny razor tongue's display the only exhibition i never entered out of unadulterated fear hello i love part four it's like yeah well then there's johnny razor tongue yeah that's what that's what i'm saying though i mean like listen i get it it's it i mean like i don't i mean i don't know i mean it doesn't really feel like a scary name to me but also like i just fucking wish that i don't know i mean i don't know it johnny razor tongue is definitely not as bad as the sleepy man or whatever so whatever no i think the name's fine i'm saying i'm saying that earnestly like for the kind of like uh harebrained nature of the story it's funny that in part four it's like oh yeah johnny razor tongue yeah well you know you gotta shut the doorway can't let johnny razor tongue can't let him out excuse me you wanna you wanna say that name again but slower johnny razor tongue is to blame as to why mariette previous guide the one that walked the museum's halls before me went mad it's been said that his plastic ventriloquist dummy tongue only speaks in mind-shattering truths or lethal lies he chooses either truth or lie based on whatever brings him the most entertainment at the time from his deprived sealed exhibition cell in the corner of our paranormal wing his disturbed mind knows only disarray and it thrives in all manners of consequences from his cruelty mariette knew this all too well the dummy poured pestilence into her ear from the moment she visited him contorting and twisting her once fortified mind like molting glass under his heated will so mariette's ill-fated psyche bent it bent and bent until mariette was no more until all that remained of the old guide was her doll-like shell after she gave in to johnny's razor tongue after she believed his lies after she injected herself with plastic to become a ventriloquist dummy just like him after she decided to please the museum and to please johnny nothing remained but her tortured soul inside of her plasticized and reanimated body that's a fun little bit of lore as in like the things inside the museum also trick you also to just marionette being an old tour guide kind of that goes pretty hard and it does make me think that our uh our tour guide is maybe not gonna have a similar fate but i do wonder if something is gonna sway or tempt him at the end as well i could see him befalling some terrible fate and i think it will have to do with that door that's been mentioned i think so now yeah i mean they gotta they gotta talk about it right it's been that yeah well i'm wondering how i'm wondering how much of the museum owner or director like the big fat british guy whatever whatever wonder how much of that is like actually real or if it's something inside the museum fucking with him or like directing him in some kind of way could be that's where the curator is down in the cell or something you can see that it was snowing the day i decided to leave the museum my hand braced the cold window pane iced with white clumps and the warmth sucked out of my hand easily like cigarette smoke that's what it's like to be the only person in this world who's going through the same thing as the rest of the world i don't know how many years prior when i had started as the museum's tour guide i received word that my daughter's cancer had taken her a letter that's all i was given by the oncology ward the hospital informed me that my daughter had passed away by mail which meant she had been dead for a few days before the paperwork actually arrived the fact of that shattered me i decided i would rather live with the burden of insanity before carrying on in this cruel world with the burden of a child dying thinking back it had been so many years ago that i knew that i didn't know how long i was going to stay in this world and i didn't know how long i was going to stay in this world i didn't know how long i was going to stay in this world so i decided to venture to johnny's exhibit to let his toxic words take me just as he had mariette snow outside reminded me of holding her gloved hand wintertime shows and her face in my mind's eye begged me to keep living i didn't visit him that day oh until recently i felt no obligation to ever try and break my contract and leave the museum anymore sophia my world my darling was dead why would i ever leave i could stay and hold the ghastly hand of her ghoulish reflection against the interface of our museum's horrifying haunted mirrors here sophia was with me and i was never alone yeah i like that i like the uh the idea that the museum is kind of a placeholder for this like mental prison he's put himself in rather than confronting the reality outside of it you know yeah let's say uh i always like a nice story with like trying to process grief or being unable to let go and using a uh using a setting or a place that's i think it's really cool that it's like a literal house of horrors but it's like he knows that she's there and she can see him but a lot of the time it seems like he can't even stomach to look at her it's like he knows it's wrong you know like he knows that it's like i'm torturing myself and that's that's really fun yeah i i like the format where it's very uh it's because like you said it is like a little shop before sort of thing on its own but it works as a placeholder for his mental state uh which from the out get of this story is more than i was expecting and i do like that touch not to say the story was bad but just i didn't think the whimsical nature of it would lend itself to something that heavy you know no well like i said too then the the farther on you get with these things i always feel like they're opening more up to like why and how and asking more stuff about the characters and it always lends itself in a really fun way like even like that tidbit in the first section would have been awesome of like i i feel like but i don't i just don't think it's that kind of writing although like we've heard from like imperial invective and stuff it's like you kind of just you kind of get one parts and if something kind of latches then you want to elaborate on it so it's just kind of like you know trying to get as many turtles to the ocean as you can before really diving into one yeah yeah stopping to gaze up at the enormous foyer i was reminded that i too was an anguished exhibition in this rich man's contraption the poor guy to push and pull at the man who survived 15 years of torment look at his hollow eyes the wealthy visitors probably thought look how dead in this inside he looks no more misery my daughter wouldn't want me to wither away like this a pawn at the hands of the rich and famous it was going to be freedom or death on my way to visit johnny i found myself walking past the lock steel door past the arts and music exhibition and downstairs next to the living wall and into the paranormal exhibition something caught my eye it was mariette the reanimated plastic shell of the previous guide in her display she clicked her pale joints stiffly and fluttered her heavy eyelids against tough friction she was deceased and on show but her soul was still very much alive a soul that pushed her hand up and against her glass prison as if to say stop guide look what johnny did to me what he's gonna do to you i'm sorry mariette i thought believe it or not johnny's gonna help me leave this horrible place oh you dumb son of a yeah unless he has a really smart trick i don't think that's what's gonna happen no yeah uh you have to tell me a truth that only relates to the structure of the museum itself go well it always it always it's funny when it's just like you know that thing that tricked you and uh you know put you into this place where you're kind of like you're basically stuck in this prison forever well i actually outsmarted them and i can do it it's always funny when a character thinks that because you're always just like how much smarter do you think you are than the other people who worked here yeah you know i'm gonna beat the immortal trickster me yeah i'm gonna be johnny razor tongue you know the thing that lived forever and is an anomaly in itself i win me a guy hello i was so focused on organizing my plan to see the dummy and to leave the museum i'd almost forgotten to feed ernie i can never forget about ernie beyond the insect exhibition hallway and to the left was our animals and evolutionists it's quite frankly rather dull but ernie always stood out to me like a hairy clawed thumb i found myself walking swiftly through the marble halls climbing upon the balcony that stretched above the open plan exhibition room from the balcony overlooking his iron barred pin i tossed him heads of purple and green lettuce which he chomped with an effortless crunch see ernie was a bear sized mole and he had a secret he was a gentle giant and i loved it it was so difficult to find a kind soul in this abominable place so i kept a secret i found the hole he had dug through to the museum's garden and let him have at it he could have his freedom if i couldn't completely dreading it i took my time on my way back to the paranormal wing visiting johnny was a necessary evil the plan was based around the belief that i was well adjusted enough to figure out if johnny was telling me a truth or a lie and adjust my plan to leave the museum accordingly with new information i'm like i like this guy like yeah well i'm smart enough to know if it's a truth or a lie even if it's like earth shattering reality bending information um and you know what i feel like that can help me walk out the door well just how incompetent not incompetent but just how surprised and kind of like he doesn't have his shit together every instance we've seen he's like been running away or he's like you know i left the fucking door open yeah it just makes you think like yeah you've been there for over 15 years but i don't think that really gives you i don't know any kind of advantage i don't know uh let's keep in mind that he has killed five completely normal people because he was paranoid one of them was gonna sanguinate him but you know what at least the rosie lived yeah i saved rosie by pushing another guy into being his fly trap he might have had it coming but those five people i released beelzebub on totally totally innocent if he lied i would in turn unveil it flipping his line on his head and use the truth to my advantage 15 years of experience as the tour guide was behind my back something mariette never had when his words broke her down coming to custom to the museum's whores had made my mind a steel fortress wrong though i just hope johnny couldn't melt my mind as easily as he did mariette's oh no i'm sure yes yeah buddy you got it yeah real steel trap mr mr crying as the fly is eating people two feet behind you you are a vessel a specimen i have a feeling johnny razor tongue is just like your your daughter's dead and he's gonna be like he's like fall down to the ground no no no no no yeah he walks in the room and like johnny starts to say something and then it's like you want to pull up a chair have a drink you look like you could use it yeah no no mind-breaking needs done on you my master key met the rustic untouched lock and twisted with a clank with one slow reluctant pull i opened the door to the ventriloquist doll's chamber for the first and hopefully last time it was foolish of me to assume the lights would still turn on after 15 years i turned to grab the torch from my hip i catch a mariette a few meters behind me and her display facing away in disgust from the room which had been her demise years ago swallow tightly and smack my flashlight alive against my palm i like the idea that uh like the museum was cruel enough to place her right next to razor tongue like she's in earshot so like for eternity razor tongues in there like you look a little fat in that dress oh yeah you can't change it forgot about that your daughter's dead get out of my head how would you know that yeah how would you possibly know that he's like you scream and cry about it all the time yeah he's just saying completely mundane stuff like you've worked here 15 years oh my gosh yeah exactly you're never gonna renovate that car you've always wanted to renovate oh fuck the same socioeconomic factors that led to the 2008 housing crisis are likely to occur again No, no, no, no, no, no. How would you know that? Another recession is due at some time in the future. It can't be. Johnny was sitting on a black stool in the center of the small room. The light from my torch lit up his pale skin, which contrasted against his baby-sized tuxedo. From the corners of his lips straight downward to his chin were thick red lines, cutting into his plastic face or in the mouth. His voice was croaky, yet dripping in sickening enthusiasm. Hiya, Michael. His words had already broken me. What do you mean? Already broken you? What, his name? He said hi! Literally his name. He said hello, and he's like, I think I have an advantage in this situation. It's two words! What are you talking about? It's his name. It's literally his name. I literally knew his name, and he's like, get out of my head! Yeah, oh my god! It's on his badge. It's not even, it's not even, he doesn't even know his name. He just saw it on his, like, fucking badge, on his, like, uniform. He has, like, a name tag still, yeah. Yeah, his name tag, yeah. Oh my gosh! A decade, even. I was lucky to even remember it. After a while, my name simply became Guide. But how? How could he? Buddy. Pal. His eyes wandered loosely in his sockets, left and right, like rolling marbles as he spoke. How's it hanging, Mikey? There was no dust on his coned hair, nor suit, as you would expect for an animated plastic whore who kept tidy by wandering the confines of his room. His mouth was ever smiling as he leaned to one side. Ben, how's my girl? A stiff dummy frame moved and peered at Mariette over my shoulder behind me. I feel like it's gotta be more of like a nardwar. Oh! Isn't she just gorgeous now, Mikey? Look at this plastic shine! I think that's the correct tone. But the Jeff the Killer corpse husband thing also works for me, so I'll leave it up to your discretion. Okay. But I do feel like the story is going for the nardwar. I think it is, yeah. We have to know! Yo, Mikey! Oh! Look at that plastic shine! Or, I guess it could be menacing if it's like in a jigsaw kind of voice, you know? Which is the same as the corpse husband. Oh, I want to play a game. Yeah. Yeah, but it's just the amount of time. It's just the amount of, like, exclamation points makes you think it's like very bombastic! Yeah. Yeah, it's almost like a, uh, like the Jester Harlequin kind of thing. of character yeah yeah yeah yeah which i first i was wondering if this is supposed to be if this is supposed to be a take on jeff the killer or even like a tommy taffy kind of guy you know yeah i feel like that kind of archetype or whatever yeah yeah this thing was revolting i thought and johnny turned a stiff head to me smirking under the bright torchlight how's your girl dead in a hole mikey oh gosh yeah immediately my mind was thrown into oblivion it's like get out of there mike yeah this is what what are you gonna there's nothing he's gonna say that'll help you i really i really love a character though who's just like i'm ready i've never been more ready and then someone's like hey mikey oh my god i forgot my name was mikey yeah as a guy who is trying to go up against a mind demon uh probably a good idea to remember base facts about reality like your name i wouldn't assume so yeah yeah yeah yeah i i feel like mariette did already substantially better i mean already this guy mikey just walked into that basement he didn't check his name tag he didn't check the calendar he doesn't know what year it is and he's like there's nothing about reality this thing can lie to me with like okay my stomach plummeted would have torn his tiny disgusting head off in an instant if i didn't need him puppet laugh with the menacing wine sophia she riding in the dirt my fist clenched and the spotlight from my torch shook over him like the light from a swinging chandelier maggots probably calling all out of her cheeks uh mikey stop suddenly burst out i echo carrying for a while through the empty halls of the museum for a while he sat quietly on the stool his legs freely kicking the air like a kid sitting on the edge of a pier he stared up at me with horrifying glassy eyes and a devilish smile that never quit i'm leaving the museum for good at six o'clock i gulped watching his every move for hints of the truth or lie response that was about to come out of his plastic mouth what do you think about that johnny his head suddenly spun around several times as he spoke wow wee friend though i have lots to think about i do i do for a while i watched a puppet eyes roll around and show only white he was contemplating of sorts you won't find any freedom outside mikey his mouth pulled open mechanically clasps shut as he spoke though you will find freedom one tiny arm beckoned me to lean closer and i did he was whispering when he spoke through the steel door what he leaned back on his stool one plastic square chin dancing in the light as he laughed to himself i thought about it for a while that steel doors remained sealed since i started this awful job he kept chuckling to himself before abruptly going quiet his eyes were locked and the old guy behind me oh mary there called out a childish croak i slammed the door shut and locked the door outside that room's tense atmosphere i felt like i could breathe again if only i could have gotten more information out of johnny than a simple straightforward lie to avoid the live entering the steel door would be no drama all i'd have to do is run from the museum i always thought i would have to do but i checked my watch and saw five minutes to six i came bolting around into an enormous foyer gas would be arriving in a matter of minutes i feel there's a very quick interaction with johnny razortongue i feel like he probably is right that he has to go through the steel door uh because again he said that razortongue gives you a truth or lie based on whatever amuses him and because there's no real freedom on the outside um it would amuse him for johnny to have to come to that i think uh that or it could be something that is uh i was even thinking that the door could like just because they've he the author has made this kind of or has presented this grief angle it could be a thing where once you leave the museum are you ever like can he let go of that uh of his like child that's what i assume yeah that's what that's what that's that's where i think we're heading yeah and it would amuse razortongue for him to get in that position i think once you say that maybe that's why mariette back in the day was presented with something that she was like unwilling to leave or thought that it was the wrong choice or just something along those lines the towering ornate museum door opened with its usual mechanical ground i pushed past a man with a salt and peppered beard his blustering coat nearly catching my face in the cold wind lady weather was against me this evening but the plan was already in motion the only thing i could do to help the man was to run i almost tumbled when one of the rich pricks snagged me by my arm as i jogged down the stairs i couldn't hear exactly what he said a swirling breeze swam in my eardrums like a cold stream a sound that i didn't often hear from inside the rich man's prison it was beautiful every step into the museum's wide frozen garden made a gentle hush beneath my shoe in the soft snow i couldn't look back until i met the tree line when i did i noticed a few of the men that gave chase spiny bushes ahead taking exaggerated steps over rough terrain like horse that walked with a proud gallop cuts and scratches against my flesh from branches felt liberating it was painful but it was not the museum's contraptions hurting me anymore it was the fresh lashes of wild unpredictable freedom i'm almost free sophia i felt the warmth of my daughter smiling down on me she wants me to be free a deep voice of one of my pursuers boomed through the forest with reverb and my heart spiked chest guide they were closing in though why were they after me i left the door wide open for them turn around and burn the museum down you're horrible bastards there was no doubt in my mind that if i stopped one of the rich brutes would bash the brain juice out of my skull with a sharp rock how dare i suffering guide threat the fun of their wealthy expedition and take off into the woods quick clapping and crunching of bark behind me made my ears prick without warning one red silk shoulder of my waistcoat was in the middle of the forest and i had no idea what was going to happen was snagged in an angry bald fist before i was yanked backward making me tumble into mud and muck i pulled my head up with a groan my joints aching dolly skin searing like a full-body carpet burn the museum guest straddling my chest was a mere silhouette the backdrop of stars behind his head only lighting up graying hair at the edges his cold fingers met my throat tightening tightening wriggling left to right was hard with legs against my chest clumps of snow fell gently onto my face and bites of cold as his hands crushed my neck i swung and swung at his kidney with my fist but he didn't let up stars above became a blur and the top of his head filled the bottom of my vision one of my keys i'd clenched between my knuckles punctured his side and went rolling down a snowy bank gripping my purple bruised throat i stumbled forward but wheezing meant i was getting enough air to keep up a jog stop his voice called with each step snow had seemingly gotten thicker though it still gave way to my feet the same distinct hush i couldn't let up not when i was this close yonder the snowy bank in front of me was a large building i had never seen before it was quite smaller than the museum bigger than the offsite cottage i slept in during my days off a warehouse it didn't take long to limp to it break inside the smell of rotten wood and mold inside the warehouse crawled up my nose like invisible pungent fingers bars of starlight came through boarded windows covering the walls and floor and crooked glowing streaks of the moon's azure silver gleam it was dusty unkempt dry grimy particles coated and tickled my throat the dust in the building was so awful that my cough might have looked like a billowing steam silhouettes of all shapes and sizes lined the walls and shelves most with flaps of paper attached to them it was a haven for retired exhibitions that or their hell thudding came from behind me as someone pushed and pulled at the door trying to follow me inside the door and i had no idea what was going on but i didn't know i was going to die unsettled flakes of crumbling wood drifted down from the ceiling with every shake from the banging door the shoddy place couldn't possibly hold the wealthy brood outside for long as my heart raced my departed sophia's face suddenly glowed on the black canvas on my tight eyelids i think i'll be seeing you soon darling i stumbled forward coughing and glaring around the murky warehouse as the thuds became impatient i needed something to get me out of here anything where do you think you're going man's muffled voice boomed from under the door it was the same man who had gripped me by my throat minutes prior his tone was strained and fed up i pictured his face flush in the cables of his neck sticking out his thick roots my cold digits wrapped around one of the planks sealing a window boarded shut my options of fight or flight narrowed to the ladder but the door was stubbing against something but not for much longer one of the lines of light pouring inside the dingy space sparkled upon something a few feet away made out of concrete the door was stubbing against something but not for much longer of glass i walked closer each step the floorboard spat out a dying croak when i was near enough to make out what the thing was a cold feeling bloomed in my stomach so this is basically like they just set old stuff they don't want in the museum anymore right i think so what also all seems and i i might be stretching with this but does it all seem like things that people are like wanting to let go another being they're being like i'm trying to see if there's an angle between the the grief that this guy is experiencing with losing his daughter and potentially the quote-unquote evil or like horrible things that people are also trying to uh disregard that are now on display for other people to be like amused by that's what i'm wondering if it's all being stacked up and like granted some of them are like monsters or something but what like what place does it come from you know yeah but it does seem like it's all you know disregarded right the thing i approached in the blanketing dim starlight was animatronic and ghoulish clumps of its brown artificial and fraying fur were clumped together in sticky balls of black grease its glass tennis ball eyes held tiny startling black pinhole-sized pupils it was a human-sized depiction of a vintage stuffed monkey holding brass symbols stuffing had come away from its middle and spongy yellow bunches exposing rusty metal gears with them within a mechanical chest i tried not to make eye contact with it out of fear of it following my gaze i still had to think quickly about defending myself the door hadn't stopped thudding messily stuck to one free ear of the mechanic bean were a few pages of forms faded and dusty i puffed away dirt from the paper with one labored wheeze bread exhibition name kelsey children's mechanical mascot that once educated schools about the importance of healthy teeth and gums i hadn't noticed it until now large and eerily human-shaped teeth struck out from the monkey's fur lips an animatronic monkey to tell your kids to brush their teeth of course out of commission 1983. reason excessive homicidal tendencies decided approved mariette so it's freddy fazbear that's what i mean that's that it's got to be that right yeah he wants he walks into the cabin and like the lights light up and it's playing the song you know what's kind of that introduces a fun angle though that i kind of wish we would have gotten to the other because i know we're it's we're on four or five and i do like the idea of them accepting items and it's like new that's being added to the museum that's a pretty fun angle too yeah yeah and also like what kind of museum is it where it's like ah the possessed murder monkey i think it's a little bit different i think it's a little bit different than what we're used to this evening i was again in unfamiliar and this evening i was again in unfamiliar and this evening i was again in unfamiliar and petrifying territory petrifying territory petrifying territory why was i not informed of this place i why was i not informed of this place i why was i not informed of this place i would have decommissioned johnny would have decommissioned johnny would have decommissioned johnny razortongue in a heartbeat razortongue in a heartbeat razortongue in a heartbeat not for me than for marietta's not for me than for marietta's not for me than for marietta's tortured soul without warning the tortured soul without warning the tortured soul without warning the stuffed mechanical abomination switched stuffed mechanical abomination switched stuffed mechanical abomination switched on on on it chilled my blood to see golden it chilled my blood to see golden it chilled my blood to see golden iridescent bulbs flickering in the place iridescent bulbs flickering in the place iridescent bulbs flickering in the place where its lifeless where its lifeless where its lifeless beady globes had been its jaw beady globes had been its jaw beady globes had been its jaw gnashed wildly lagging and biting gnashed wildly lagging and biting gnashed wildly lagging and biting it was stuck in the loop for a while it was stuck in the loop for a while it was stuck in the loop for a while seeing through eyes that hadn't seen the seeing through eyes that hadn't seen the seeing through eyes that hadn't seen the world in decades as it woke from its world in decades as it woke from its world in decades as it woke from its slumber it turned to me slumber it turned to me slumber it turned to me gleaming gears and yellow eyes all gleaming gears and yellow eyes all gleaming gears and yellow eyes all feasting on who it broke its sleep feasting on who it broke its sleep feasting on who it broke its sleep me the speaker tried to sing in a me the speaker tried to sing in a me the speaker tried to sing in a child's voice but the rusty electronics child's voice but the rusty electronics child's voice but the rusty electronics could only cough up distorted noise could only cough up distorted noise could only cough up distorted noise when it finally started the tune and when it finally started the tune and when it finally started the tune and began walking i made for the door began walking i made for the door began walking i made for the door calcium calcium drink milk for bones calcium calcium drink milk for bones calcium calcium drink milk for bones put it in your tongue my hand met the put it in your tongue my hand met the put it in your tongue my hand met the handle of the door i went tumbling handle of the door i went tumbling handle of the door i went tumbling backward as the man kicked it in first backward as the man kicked it in first backward as the man kicked it in first my elbow collapsing into one rotten my elbow collapsing into one rotten my elbow collapsing into one rotten floorboard the mechanism behind me sang floorboard the mechanism behind me sang floorboard the mechanism behind me sang and sang and her symbols crashed and and sang and her symbols crashed and and sang and her symbols crashed and crashed bones bones bones crashed bones bones crashed bones bones strong teeth for bite no mounds mounds strong teeth for bite no mounds mounds mounds mounds mounds burn your teeth at night the intruder's burn your teeth at night the intruder's burn your teeth at night the intruder's hand was immediately aiming for my hand was immediately aiming for my hand was immediately aiming for my throat once more but i was faster i throat once more but i was faster i throat once more but i was faster i turned quickly catching one of his arms turned quickly catching one of his arms turned quickly catching one of his arms and pulling them behind his back in a and pulling them behind his back in a and pulling them behind his back in a lock twisting i faced his kicking legs lock twisting i faced his kicking legs lock twisting i faced his kicking legs outward at kelsey a symbol clapping outward at kelsey a symbol clapping outward at kelsey a symbol clapping animatronic monstrosity approached animatronic monstrosity approached animatronic monstrosity approached slowly gears churning in its open chest slowly gears churning in its open chest slowly gears churning in its open chest crash crash crash with the symbols they crash crash crash with the symbols they crash crash crash with the symbols they crashed until the gears caught both his crashed until the gears caught both his crashed until the gears caught both his boots and its exposed core as he tried boots and its exposed core as he tried boots and its exposed core as he tried to kick her away but he was locked in to kick her away but he was locked in to kick her away but he was locked in my arms and he was locked tight from then my arms and he was locked tight from then my arms and he was locked tight from then it took a while for the man to stop it took a while for the man to stop it took a while for the man to stop screaming his feet met the unyielding screaming his feet met the unyielding screaming his feet met the unyielding gears of animatronic innards and a red gears of animatronic innards and a red gears of animatronic innards and a red cloud of skin and bone calcium calcium cloud of skin and bone calcium calcium cloud of skin and bone calcium calcium drink milk for bones put it in your drink milk for bones put it in your drink milk for bones put it in your tub this this guy's literally getting tub this this guy's literally getting tub this this guy's literally getting michael afton right now he's literally getting the spring lock he's literally getting the spring lock he's literally getting the spring lock failure michael afton uh that's the guy who made michael afton uh that's the guy who made fnaf right no no no but uh the guy that made it scott coffin michael afton is the purple guy within the series who kills the kids and the way he dies is he crawls inside of one of the suits to hide from the kids ghost and that's not the first one right spring lock it's in the third one it happens all of the spring locks in the suit fail and like crush him to death inside of the suit that happened in the first movie though i remember watching yeah oh yeah yeah the first movie the first yeah but then i remember because we talked about fnaf on one of these episodes and then i ended up playing it the first one but i didn't remember that in the first game yeah the first game i mean all the games are just like the actual survival segments unless you find the hidden puzzles and stuff in two and three um but the first one's just a survival segment after the kids have been murdered and possess the animatronics and the third one you see like flashbacks where it shows how they got there basically michael afton killed a bunch of kids by luring them in with this mascot costume and uh the mascot costume had a failure and all the joints in it like shot back into place and crushed him to death that's kind of fun so basically this guy getting sucked inside of a suit he is getting michael afton have you ever done a he's getting michael i love that as a verb have you ever done a fnaf video yeah i have it has like 14 million years that's awesome i did a i did a lore thing of all the games and everyone's like yes well it was i remember even that like i i never played the games but i mean obviously you have to have heard of it it was so big it was so crazy popular yeah and that video had like a huge resurgence when the first movie came out and everyone's like what are the kids into on the telly box you know so yeah sure that that for sure yeah what's that doing on the telly box oh a man being crushed in a spring block failure perfect perfect freddy fazbear is actually the ghost of uh cassie oh my god what what if the monkey is actually sophie oh that that's fun i mean wouldn't you be like i personally wouldn't go the fnaf angle i mean it's probably not but it would be kind of funny if it was where's just at this point i would be like that's hilarious i mean we have a giant symbol monkey crunching a guy to death with gears hug daddy sophie the living tombstone song starts playing we're waiting every night oh my god your voice what what that's what it sounds like it's a song it's like it's like a mechanical nightcore thing to finally home and invite the one childlike voice coming out of the room and i'm like oh my god out of the same speaker became choppy and deep pitched like a singing birthday card with a dying battery at that moment i could only hope my daughter wasn't looking down watching me ghoulishly smile as my rich pursuer struggled and screamed in my locked arms close your eyes if you're watching honey daddy's gonna be free soon as daddy gets sucked inside of the monkey animatronic daddy's gonna be free daddy's free like dobby daddy's free ping ping ping the man screamed and screamed and the dying speaker's voice line sung and sunk calcium calcium metal gears were up to his calves his cartilage popped his leg bones buckled and broke with the stomach curdling crack as kelsey snapped his femurs like thick white pencils through her gears as if the man was fleshy mulch i only let go when he finally became limp screams were no longer all that could be heard in the dusty room was the mechanical spinning and clunking of gears from the animated monstrosity to my side for a while i sat in the dark as it ate him whole it felt good to finally fight back but it was never meant to feel this good sound of his bones crunching sound of his voice extinguishing like a wet flame i was no longer going to be the one being tortured and tormented i was going to be free i i just want to say i just want to say he's killed seven people now yeah and i i i truly believe that last person who was like hey hold on i don't know if that person was well i mean he was choking him out so oh true true never mind now yeah that's true yeah but five innocent people right There were five who died that night. At first, I thought it was the museum curator at first, but I guess not. Though, as the age-old saying goes, ignorance is bliss. I wish I hadn't looked down at the mutilated man. I wish I hadn't seen that he was not someone wealthy or a guest after all. Catching a proper glance at him in the dim moonlight shining over his overalls and glistening keys became terrifyingly evident that he was museum security. Okay, so. Fucking bear trap. Bring that back up to six. God damn it, I knew it! I knew, I knew, I knew it. Because he probably, yeah, he was probably like, hey, you're breaking in or something. And then, yeah, of course, of course. I killed a man that was just trying to do his job. No, I didn't. I didn't. The museum did. Okay. That real steel trap of a mind coming into play, building his own reality right now. Deep down, I think I knew I was responsible, though. Deep down, you held him down so the monkey could get him. Don't know how, I don't know how deep down we have to go. Pretty surface level there, Mikey. Pretty surface, I think you'd kill him. I think there, you know, don't need to be a fucking rocket scientist to figure that one out. Get this sentence, and that I might have enjoyed watching it happen. But no, it was the museum that did it, for sure. I gotta tell ya, I gotta tell ya, I. I'm falling out of favor with this. I'm falling out of favor with Mikey. Very, how do we, oh, damn, I'm not even gonna go there. I'm not even gonna go there. But I did have the thought, maybe Mikey's like an attraction. Like, he thinks he's a person, you know? But he's like a ghost that haunts the place or something. I was, see, whenever I said, like, oh, is this a place where people are dropping their stuff off, right? And that he was one of the murderers or something, and that, like, he has pretended to be a tour guide this whole time. But then the whole, at first, that's what I was thinking when it's like, oh, he killed his daughter, is what I was thinking. Yeah, I see. But then it's, but the cancer, you know. Yeah. Unless it's just like, by the way, she did have cancer, I strangled her, which would be pretty lame. By cancer, I meant I stabbed her to death. Yeah. You know, the worst kind of cancer. Or I should say, the museum stabbed her to death. I do like, I really like that the museum is taking the creature, it's taking its place. You see, I was gonna save my daughter, but then the museum showed up. Yeah. I went to look, I went to get a meatball out. I went to the freezer. It was then I found the museum that makes the meatballs. It oddly works pretty good, too. But it was time to keep moving. I swiftly bent down and swooped a metallic lighter and a ring of many keys before leaving the stuffed whore alone to eat. Most of the keys were long and identical to mine from the look of things. Snow was blowing outside the warehouse. I had to squint. Freezing ice. Peppered eyes to see. He's just leaving the giant killer animatronic free. To be fair, what is he supposed to do? Well, let me go put that up real quick. What is anyone supposed to do? Like, how'd they get it in that building in the first place? I don't know. They had the National Guard airlift it to the house. They should deploy it like Freddy Fazbear to the Middle East. Three fucking Blackhawk helicopters flying it in. Could you imagine being Al-Qaeda in the mountains and you see a helicopter flying in Freddy Fazbear? That would be fucking horrifying. They've got ropes hooked under his shoulders and he's coming over the mountains like. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I had to squint. Freezing ice. And orient myself. I orient myself away from the museum's grounds. For a while, I walked aimlessly in the blistering snow, not seeking a goal, but salvation as much distance I could make between the museum and myself. The weather was relentless and I was ill-equipped from the get-go. At some point, I had a call with the museum's curator as I stumbled around the barren, icy wilderness. But reality bordered with delusion. You could never leave the museum, Michael. The voice was buzzing through the speaker. You two are entwined. Wait, what? When did he take a call? Oh, has he never left the museum? Because he's like, at some point, I had a call with the curator as I stumbled through the wilderness. Reality bordered with delusion. Yeah, I think that we've been under the assumption that he has, but I guess not. Which I think that only because at first I will say I was like, oh, he can never leave because how would you like? How could you trust anybody, you know? Yeah. But then he was like, oh, my. His wife. And he had a daughter and stuff. So it's like, OK, well, he has a family outside of this. Unless I'm guessing that the daughter's death broke up the marriage. So he's been there, which this further this further kind of puts proof in the fact that he might legitimately be a a a piece in the museum. He could be. That might be where this is going. My jaw was chattering. I watched the steam from my mouth and lips escape me. This money, the type of money to let you run something like this. Your contract simply does not end if you leave our board. Or Sonny, you should know this. All I could hear for a while was the clinking of a lighter opening and the curator sucking through a cigarette over the phone. Occasionally, the wind blew a strong gust and pulled away my coat. I think it's time you expire, boyo. See, we even have a new guy lined up to replace you. It's over. I'm going to be free. My voice was slow and hard to hear over chattering teeth. Curator scoffed. No, Michael, you're not. I want to thank you. For letting those those people that are lonely at the top of the financial mountain, those rich and famous who are under constant judgmental lies, those akin to exhibitions at the museum, let them truly be somewhere and be someone where they are not themselves. At our museum, they could be the audience, not the newspapers, nor the public exhibitions. And you were instrumental in such success. Breathing didn't come easy. The air swirled and chilled my lungs like inhaling menthol. Words were labored for my lips. Farewell, Michael. Phone clicked off. I staggered for a while after the call had ended. Hypothermic brain fog had me go in in every which way. I had no chance of making it back to the museum in such delirium. Did I want to return, however? No, of course not. It was cold, and I was tired. I laid down in a pile of snow under a naked tree. The evening's snowy breeze no longer felt like anything at all across my numb face. Just for a little while. Sleep in the cold. I tilted my head back, letting my eyelids drift shut, and the stars above sing me a final lullaby. For a while, the constellations looked like my daughter's face, and I smiled. If I held a handful of snow tight enough, it didn't feel like I was dying alone. It felt like someone was holding my hand, and the fear started to blow away with the wind. I like. That's another good line. If I held the snow tight enough, it felt like I wasn't dying alone. That's a good line. Yeah. But also. I think I've told this story before. Did I tell you I had a buddy that almost died of hypothermia like that? No. What? Like while camping, or what happened? It was in January, and it was a clear day out in Tennessee. Not this year? No, no. It was in a January month. This would have been like five years ago, I think. Okay. He went out kayaking, and then while he's out in the water far from his truck, a huge snowstorm came in. And the wind swept him off, so he had to swim to shore. And he was totally middle of like State Park, no roadways or anything like that. Oh my God. So he started like walking through the woods, and it was like below freezing, and he was wet and cold. And after walking for like half an hour, he got really, really tired. And there was like a little depression in the ground that when he laid in it, the wind wasn't hitting him. And he's like, I feel tired. I think I'm just going to take a little nap. And he starts to go to sleep, and he's like, wait a minute. That's what the cold wants me to think. And he has this huge burst of adrenaline and starts sprinting to the woods and eventually finds a cabin and starts beating on the door. And it was an older woman inside who lived on her own, and she thought he was some crazy man trying to break in. So she called the cops, and he's at the door like, please let me in. And this woman's like, I'm calling the police. And he's like, that's good. That's fine. Just throw a blanket on the porch. Just toss one outside. You know what's crazy, though? If you're freezing to death, I know if you have heat exhaustion. You can boil your brain, and you can be not like delusions. I don't know if you can. You can have delusions if you get brain melting hot enough. Does the same thing happen when you are freezing to death? Does your mind go into a similar take? What does it? Is your brain beginning to slow down or working too fast? It starts to go in overdrive and show you stuff. So, yeah, you could definitely see delusions as your brain's effectively turning off. Well, I'm glad your friend made it. My God. Yeah, me and him were out hiking. He showed me that spot later. He's like, right there is where I almost died. Yeah. See that storm cloud coming? Let's camp out. I'm so sleepy right now. Yeah, exactly. Wake up! Yeah. But the snow in my hand was hairy, and it was warm, and it was breathing. A cold pile beneath my arm erupted into the air with a snort as if from a whale's spout. His brown fur looked unworldly against the field of snow. He couldn't see much. with his two black beady eyes beyond his whiskers, but he knew it was was me. And I knew it was him. Ernie. That's cute. I like how big he is. I did not think he was that big. Yeah, he's like bear size. I swiftly buried into the thin layer of concave snow that Ernie's pink and brown head came from. It was hard to see anything inside the hole, if at all, but it was a lot warmer than the surface. Inside, the lighter I pulled from the security guard no longer faltered at any wind in the tight space, and I caught the tail end of the mole's pink hind paws in the lighter's soft glow as he began to scurry back through the tunnel towards the museum. I crouched a slog through the tunnel using only the lighter and Ernie to guide me. Warmth returned to my extremities and spread in waves. Come to think of it, the lighter was not the only thing I had found on the man's body. Upon the key ring I had taken was a peculiar long and winding key I had never seen before. One that I had never owned. A key to the steel door. End of part four. I do like that he tried to make it look like he was trying to make it look like he was trying to make it look like the escape on foot because that's like what logic would dictate but it's like okay if he does that he's just gonna freeze to death so now he has to try the door I feel like I'm high because he definitely have I feel like he's never left the museum since then he certainly might not have I would believe it yeah so that was like some unless I was supposed to be like a cell phone that he hasn't mentioned before and that's what the call was through you know which maybe um but no he said it was coming through the speakers of the museum so it was like the museum just that loud the speakers out front he can hear it in the woods possibly I don't know maybe anyway part five subtitle being I finally opened the locked door I was spitting out specks of dirt by the time I made it back to the museum through Ernie's tunnel an earthy taste coated my tongue and throat soil stuck to my grazed elbows when I finally emerged in the evening light came through the windows of the building Ernie's snub nose was sniffing and snorting as I pat him on his furry brown head pompous cackling beckoned me from the hallway type of egotistical rich laughter that came from throwing a heavy inflated head back wiping muck away from the face of my watch I saw it was already nine o'clock deplorable guests had already been roaming the museum for three hours I didn't want to ponder what unimaginable damage they'd done I was about to leave through the doorway of the animals and Evolution exhibit for the foyer and make my way towards the sealed door but when it suddenly began my heart felt as if it had stopped one after another the display cabinets throughout the museum that had once held the imprisoned exhibitions exploded into clouds of broken shards shattering Banks echoed down the hallway the floors above me the greenhouse is a symphony of broken glass clattering throughout the entire building and bursting pops a cacophony of impending Frenzy the air inside the museum was intense scalding me its tour guide the eyes and ears of the place was trying to leave it for good exploding in a hot retaliating rage the museum poured me for attempting an escape and the exhibitions were let free from the halls the once cackling guests soon found quite in confusion and silence swiftly grew screams as delirium blossomed into blind fear glass displays still distantly popped and met the marble like clattering hail it occurred to me in that moment shark terror that the museum itself was an exhibition in and of itself a wealthy man's Pandora's box and staring around at the violent exploding glass that housed our precious artifacts her message was hauntingly clear if she couldn't have me no one else could two men frantically bolted into the room running from an unseen their faces were polar opposite expressions one spoke volumes of fear under a furrowed brow the other had a jaw that was tightened with invisible bolts of disdain Mr frightened and Mr angry a rigid dichotomy which showed their contrasting feelings in the face of death here in this abominable rich man's Graveyard they knew they were going to die and to hear the museum narrow their death sentence with every pop of distant class felt intensely euphoric what's going on Mr Frighten's voice was a helpless drone where were you I was I held my breath from their demeanor beginning to calm it was evident that they felt relatively at ease in the seemingly dull animal wing of the museum I would have felt the same if my eye didn't catch the finger-length chameleon crawling up Mr angry's wrist the other man caught wind of what I was looking at he looked down at Mr angry's forearm and his bulging eyes looked like they could have fallen out of his head oh God the man with the chameleon up to his elbow said I've read about these on the placard how did it get his voice was shaking I wiped one sweaty hand on my leg and began to back away this all of this didn't concern me I had to escape the museum I had to find out what was behind the steel door it's going to bite me right it's venomous right guide get it the hell off me I interjected stepping one foot back then the next no though it without warning the man peeled it from his skin one thumb pushing against the chameleon's neck to expose fangs Mr angry swiped the reptile at the other man with force and its mouth stuck to his skin like a dart board and he laughed the rich and famous visited were never going to change I thought watching Mr Frighten squirm and hold the blood that slowly drizzled from the fleshy carved hole in his neck never the Benton man looked like a chameleon for a while at least part of him did his wounded neck skin bloomed orange violet scaly flesh beneath his jaw was iridescent in the Moonlight human cells were never met for camouflage and the man was soon testament to that Mr Frighten didn't make a sound only an anguished grimace in pain as his skin cells flowered sage that Ocean Blue the pain was clearly insufferable enough to turn him mad enough to want to spoon the bloodshot eyes out of their sockets though the worst stomach curdling process was yet to come there was never venom though the chameleon's bite was turning his skin when his human shell could bear the stress of chameleon evolution no longer the blotches of scales that his flesh had morphed into soon became clear as glass transparent areas of the man's skin bloomed in circles growing slowly and easily like puddles of rain he went to grab a banister with one ghoulishly crystalline hand but he couldn't have known that the chameleon's contagious clear pigmentation would also make his flesh as thin as paper pointy finger bones tore through the tips of his fragile paper skin like spiny white staples as his hand touched the wood and he screamed and screamed Mr Frighten fell to one knee the only limb that still showed the true color of his flesh as he toppled over I saw his liver his heart all organs and gore were on show as I stared through his back that looked like a mere translucent veil or a jellyfish that's so sick that's so cool that's that goes so hard his his skin gets so thin his finger bones poked through him that's fun the chameleon's contagious pigment miraculously started to spread to his neck bones and his skull and his skin and bones bloomed as clear as a window no sound came out of his mouth when he screamed then only that of the sickening tearing that came after his brittle see-through neck snapped under the weight of his brain his head made a splash as it died from his shoulders onto the marble floor watching his facial skin Flake away to translucent dust I was reminded of the venomous glass butterflies we housed in our insect exhibition I wouldn't be surprised if this was how they originally came into being there was a brief satisfying respite after I watched the rich man meet his demise when my heart and standing hairs upon two shaking arms settled I recalled how vulnerable he had looked with his organ showing how scared he must have felt in this moment before his head broke loose from his body his memories his hopes and fears his rich ego all ending in an instant as his fleshy mind bubble met Marble how gratifying the other man tore me out of my moment of Ecstasy as if he had plunged me in a freezing bath Mr angry was wildly swinging a hammer in front of me and narrowly missed the bridge of my nose we're completely because of you his voice lashed me with the Syrian culpability he swung again and missed because that time I was already on the move I bolted for the door my feet skidding as I turned in the hallway towards the foyer angry guests exploding cabinets it's all too much Sophia I thought I know you're watching me honey I'm gonna be free I reluctantly passed the steel door as I swiftly climbed the Grand staircase of the foyer I was going to open it this evening to find freedom just as Johnny had told me I would but not until I could shake the angry wealthy prick on my tail so he's just running to try to get this guy away from him before he opens the steel door right yeah well I think that he's now fighting for his life before he like leaves I think that he yeah because I think that if he goes in there with him I mean I I don't know I yeah I think he's just trying to shake him yeah the floor inside the arts of music exhibition was littered with the shattered glass of the displays of free exhibitions and when I entered the room I immediately went straight for the back wall above me on a golden placard the tooth fairy Mr angry followed me into the dimly lit space wielding his hammer tightly over one shoulder nowhere to run guide the man turned left then right no reanimated freaks left here to do your bidding either huh as I scanned the floor for smashed glass the remains of any escape displays but the tooth fairy didn't do my bidding and it didn't need broken glass to be set free only the deep nauseating hunger that rumbled within its canvas belly for the guest's mouth bones was needed for it to wait from its die an ash colored hand tore out from the painting beside me slowly reaching wanting strings of oil pigment like bloody tree sappers syrup hung from its arms and neck as it hoisted itself out of the canvas its face had no eyes its head was only half of that only the jaw mouth and cheeks remained below its jagged outline of a missing scalp fucking tooth fairy the tooth fairy payoff is sick that's so cool the dripping ink as it's stepping out of the painting that's so fun i like that follow-up too because you kind of get that with the sand in the second part like you get just it's a fun yeah i like that the man turned but the tooth fairy's fingers were long and its famine even longer it leaped from the canvas pinning him tightly against the ground his hand was limp and the hammer slipping from his grip my heart was racing skin goose flesh but watching the animated painting pull the man's teeth fell intoxicating there was a vile amusement that burned within me as i counted the number of teeth the ghoul had to unroot before the man's words became a wet indiscernible mess six seven and there were no teeth left it started at his lips pink leeches that peeled away strings and nerves i smiled because the tortured tour guide that i once was proved to be no salvation for him perhaps only dentures were so i picked up his hammer and left him there to expire the museum foyer outside was that as it always was ornate and grand i looked up at the mosaic ceiling and laughed as i walked down the stairs of her belly but excuse me an orchestra of exploding glass displays it is funny i just like that sorry it's just good timing an orchestra of exploding glass displays and screams drowning the sound of my chuckle like a loud swirling drain of disarray the horrifying museum for the rich and famous was absurd and it ate me whole i like he's like i'm gonna get it out of here sophie and then he's watching two guys die and he has to stop the chuckles as he runs with the hammer through the hole i'm telling you he's a he's a fucking he's a psychopath he's a monster even if the guy was like gonna kill you i would still just be like okay cool i'm not gonna wait around i'm just gonna leave bye yeah yeah that was my time yeah i had the key to the steel door and with it my misery would come to an end i feel like you're smiling too sophia dad's leaving the hallway wasn't very far steel door wasn't far how much longer sophia you're gonna be so proud of me my stomach sank i didn't anticipate the museum's curator to be sitting there bones and flesh by my hammer, but she might have scream because at that moment, she knew her father was a monster. Horns fell out of Sophia's trembling lips. You're a monster, daddy. I went to grab her by the arm and hold her and tell her it was all right and that we were free, but she slapped my hand away and shrieked. My voice was quiet, pleading. I'm not a monster, honey, I. She was backing away from me. Pale moonlight flooded in and painted bloody steps upon the museum's marble floors where his slippers had been. Looking down at the ground, she didn't see the disgusting man lying there that had tormented me for 15 years, nor the man that had kidnapped and groomed her to be the next guide. All she saw in the museum's curator's lifeless body was the remains of an honest man that had raised her in her father's stead, and I had just haphazardly scattered his brain across the marble floor with a hammer. She broke off into a sprint down the hallway. Around the corner and down the steps she had walked many times before, I screamed after her and gave chase. When I finally saw her again, she had stopped in the middle of the foyer, a few steps from the door. Beelzebub and the Tooth Fairy were patrolling the halls, slowly making their way towards us. The museum's abominations did not wander aimlessly. They were searching for me. The museum was searching for me. It was not going to let me run free. The back of her blonde hair was facing me as she wrestled with the door locks. Sophia shrieked as I made my way past her and jammed my master key into the door and twisted. My heart was racing. The key that had worked for. Fifteen years was not turning the lock. I kept twisting and turning my wrist, cussing at the museum's exhibitions loomed. It would never open. Of course, not this evening. Because something was amiss. The museum had no guide. Inside the foyer, Beelzebub fluttered a broken fly wink as it sucked his disgusting mouth tube in and out like a pacifier. When they would reach us, they would pull my teeth and flesh from my bones as easily as boiled meat. Sophia would be next. No, no, she was going to be free. The ground scratched as Beelzebub dragged one contorted, spiny foot across the marble. Closer. Closer. That's when I knew what I had to do. My arms were wide. I will be resuming tours at ten o'clock. Please leave your coats on the rack in the foyer. I said, my voice echoing through the museum. The sound of scraping and glass displays smashing was no more. Is that what you want to hear? I screamed at the museum. The two horrifying exhibitions inside the foyer. The foyer stood frozen. Is that what you want to? Trailed off, falling to my knees. Tears streamed down my cheeks and onto the ornate floor. The museum would have been satisfied with either me or Sophia as the guide, but it was always meant to be me. Always. A clack chimed from the door behind me, and Sophia and I both turned. Snow drifted slowly to the ground through the large doorway to the outside gardens. I managed to make out the gloss of the curator's black sedan underneath piling snow part near the steps outside. "Do you see?" I took Sophia's hand and held her cold grip tightly to mine. "This museum is cursed. The people that visit are cursed." Reaching forward, I braced her pale cheek with my other hand before she could squirm away. "Look at what I've become. Look at me." Staring into her, I saw my sweetheart, my world, my everything. Sophia was here. She was real. She was alive. "Look at me, darling." Tears streamed down my face and met my shirt collar in blotches. "I may not be your father. Not you. Not anymore." I brushed her hair from her brow. "But I want you to know that I love you, Sophia." Her wet eyes met mine. I knew she hadn't seen her dad. She saw the museum. I'm glad she did, because if she hadn't, she might have stayed. "I will always, always love you. My girl." I liked to remember her smiling in that moment, but it may have been a trick of the mind. I let go of her hand, leaving the curator's car keys in her shaking palm. "You get in that car and you go." She sniffled and nodded. "You get in that car and you go." I let go of her hand, leaving the curator's car keys in her shaking palm. "You get in that car and you go." "You get in that car and you go." "You get in that car and you go." series is uh it'd be cool to see something in one long poster like one uh book even of uh something that's like maybe a little more uh fully curated from the top uh would be fun i thought that the ending though was really was fun like i think i think i think that's a lot of fun like it's the thing in the museum that makes him stay yeah because it gives him this false confidence that his daughter's out there so where his false memories he wanted from earlier they can be real in his mind and he'll stay right there yeah really interesting the uh i will add so he started this is five years ago and it doesn't look like he's updated it since uh but he started writing a prequel series from mariette's perspective oh that'd be fun so he has one part up right now called where the mantis flies which we'll link that in the description so if you want to see more of the prequel stuff from mariette then that'll be in the description the idea of i don't know if you've found this or if you thought this as well but the idea of her putting plastic made me think that she was like maybe like didn't want to grow old or was uh was concerned about her looks or something like wanting to preserve beauty of some kind was kind of what i was thinking with the whole plastic uh like preservation or whatever doll-like mentality that she turns into she's huge though i mean seven feet over seven feet tall is what they said so i don't know so but i don't know i mean all in all it was really fun it was a nice story that was a fun that was a fun long story that did not over overstay its welcome and it also didn't just like use the fun to degrade the quality of the story it was just fun throughout and i enjoyed it that was a good one no i think so too i think also it was a story too that starts pretty campy and then by by about part four i think it completely abandons that or not abandons it but like i mean it kind of it takes i like that it starts off campy because it's like this is a weird job i have until he's like actually i want to get the fuck out of here and then the story almost twists with how the uh tour guide himself is experiencing like basically his perception of the museum changes therefore i feel like the horror got a little more serious yeah yeah yeah i i enjoyed it that was a lot of fun pretty fun well guys that's our episode this week we thank you so much for listening like i said or like isaiah said we got links in the description for the author so please go follow them go give you know just go show them some love go show them support also maybe check out the prequel series it sounds like a lot of fun uh to all the people listening right now on audio platforms please consider giving us a nice thumbs up or a good rating it helps us out a lot and if you're wanting some uh extra content on the side uh go to patreon.com slash creepcast we got an imperial invective uh interview and a nice author interview that we're stoked on and we do some bonus episodes here and there so if you want some free content feel free to head over there until next time guys stay creeped stay creeped and remember if the uh living museum full of monstrosities against nature you work in um says from a puppet that is established to be a mind demon that ruins reality if it says that your daughter that you assume is dead is actually alive in the basement for 15 years probably don't trust it probably just good rule of thumb but hey real bear trap of a mind you're working with there buddy um bye you you