The Antichrist Salesman | CreepCast

(upbeat music) - Welcome back to Creepcast. Today we are reading a story called the Encyclopedia Salesman by an author that has been requested a lot in the Creepcast community. - Well called? - I got a-- - Woonlecker. - I kind of, it won't load on the iPad 'cause Creepcast.com has a bajillion banner ads. And I've got a lot of banner ads on Creepcast. - And I've got to pull it to the side. - If I had to give-- - I've got time to say enough to pretend I'm on my iPad when I'm on the phone. - If I have to give Creepcast.com one note, it's cool with the banner ads. - But you know what? I'll take their banner ads over the no-sleep mods. - Yeah. - That's probably true. - Well the work stays up. - You just have to have to find it. - I'm sorry. - You just have to pile it through you have to navigate your story through all the ads, the black squares and stuff. - There's a guy to give a random shout out. There's a guy, I'm afraid to go off of my phone 'cause I'm afraid it'll freak out again. There is a dude on YouTube called King Turtle, - Dash 1010. And he has been for like the past several months making like top 10 Creepcast videos and stuff. - King Turtle, 1010. King Turtle, 1010. And everyone began referring to him as Tark, because you know, the hangover. - The hangover? - Tark Brownie. - The fuck is Tark Brownie? - What are you talking about? - Hold on. - Yes, sorry. - Tark Brownie. - I don't want to, you can't fail this test. - What? Is that a bit on the channel? Hold on. It takes 10 minutes to do anything. Over here one second. All right, does this. - Is that a character we did? - Oh, I'm back. (laughing) - King Turtle's right. - Yeah, yeah, there we go, okay. So his name's Turtle, so everyone just started referring to him as Tark, whatever. And he's a cool sport, goes with it, but he makes like top 10 list for Creepcast. Anyway, I was white here, I was listening to a video he did where he's doing our top 10 funniest bits like he ranked him. And one of the ones he talked about was how much we ate no sleep. So he's like, you know what, just for the laws, I'm gonna go read the no sleep rules. And he starts reading them and do there's some ones in there that I had never heard of. Like, 'cause it all has to be from the perspective of who's going through it, right? Your narrator cannot be a child because children aren't allowed to use Reddit. The minimum age is 13. - Wait, something. - Yeah, there's a, to make a Reddit account, you have to be 13 years old. So if you read a horror story about like a girl in the 1800s who's like, watches her family die? - You can't find a narrator game unless you're 17 years old. - Yes, yeah. - Sorry, you read about your family game murder, but you're not old enough to have a Reddit account, actually. - What about, what about that Max Boyn and story we read? I feel like that was from the perspective like a 12 year old girl. - Don't they usually, usually what happens is those, they're always like, they're always, yeah, I'm older now, I'm looking back on something, there's a catch all, or like the one the camping story with the fish people. That one's like, oh well, I'm 17, but I have a younger sibling or something. - If you're 17, you can have a Reddit account. - You can talk about your child. - You can talk about being a child, but you can't be a child. But there's some in there, it's like your story. Your story, if it is from the perspective of a killer, cannot be about killing 'cause it's like distasteful or whatever, you have to like make a different story. It can't just be about murder and stuff. - Nina, the killer and all the Jeff, the killer ones are on creepypasta, not no sleep. - Probably, if I had to get, I mean that also, like they spawned. - I'll say this, I'll say this. - And I'll give my peace at least for the creepypasta moderators. - Go ahead, white knight. - To be the white knight, to the R slash, no sleep mods, I will say this, the amount of stuff that they probably have to sift through is insane. And there is probably a reason. - These aren't, I think these are dead again. - Yep. - Good job. - There's probably a reason that there's these like weird rules because maybe there's just a period of time where something was crazy. - Well, I'm sure, yeah, I'm sure. But we have seen multiple cases. I will never get over that guy's story. We covered about like the mouth, the people with the mouse falling open that are chasing him and in the end, he's in his room riding, and they took it down because not enough happened. - That's a strange reason for it. - Well, I mean, they're moderators. They're gonna have power trips somehow, you know? - Yeah, but it's like, he's riding from a building or just saying like, you know. - Just point made, I don't like it. And I'd see, and I do recognize the irony and we read so many no sleep stories to talk about the no sleep mods. But what it is is we read horror stories. No sleep is a popular place they're posted, and it's a shame that it's such a lame place. - For them to be posted. - Oh, we're reading the author's stories. We're not reading the moderator's stories. - Exactly, yeah, yeah, yeah, be a different world. - Anyway, we're not touching that today. Don't know why I got me on that rant. - People have requested this author a lot. - That's right. The mid role adds on Creepypasta.com, annoying. - Yes, yeah. - So this author. So this author is Woonlicker. He goes by on the Creepypasta.com. He has a ton of stories. - Woo! - Is that good? - No. - He has a ton of stories. His real name is Mark Lynch, and he has just looking at over a dozen stories on Amazon to pick up. And a bunch of people-- - Does he want to be docs like that? - Mark Lynch. - That's his name on Amazon. - Oh, so it is public? - Yes, yeah. I didn't dig up his name and then just announce it. His address is here, and you can find him most days here at this time. - This is gonna be one of those episodes we're gonna tell. He has like over a dozen stories or books that you can pick up on Amazon. And a bunch of his stories get recommended to us a lot. People really like a lot of his narratives and characters. He's done the one we get recommended all the time. I work at a-- - I think it's, I work at a government. I work at a secret government facility or secret government prison or something like that. - That was a weird time. He did that one? - Yeah, we never read it. - There was also another one that was like, I work at a museum for the rich and powerful or something. - No one's not him. That's a different one we have here at Mark's, yeah. - There's a lot of I work. - Yeah, well, again, it's no sleep, so it's like. - It has to be you talking about something to happen to you. - Yeah. - And we'll all pretend like we know it's great. Anyway, but that's kind of the formula with a lot of them. But I'm trying to think, wasn't there another big one people had suggested that he wrote? Here's out of it right now. - I think he's looking it up. One of the people recommended these authors of stuff, do you think it's because they have like, like, oh, I used to read this person back in the day. Is that usual, the hype is there? Or do you think that it's, do you have any creep cast people that are listening, do you think are like going through and looking at some of these old classics? - I think a lot of them. I think so too. - I was a little surprised at first, but now seeing a lot of the comments, especially on the Reddit and stuff, people are reading these constantly. They're recommending a ton to us, especially with tells from the creeps. There's a whole community of people over there just posting all the time, talking about rounded and stuff like that. So I'd say a lot, especially here, like we get a bunch of stuff, recommending wound liquor to us. And this story we're about to read was written in 2024. - I like that. - So this is since the podcast, yeah. - So. - I like whenever people are, we get a nice newer story. Something recent. You know, it's nice living in the early 2010s, mid 2010s, but let's bring it back a little bit. Let's make it a little more recent. - When did we start the podcast? - 2024. - Was it November of '24? - Or was it the year before? It was the first. - Was it November of '23? - It might have been November of '23. And then it was how you started eventually. - That sounds right, yeah, yeah. What were you best say, Harry? - There is a story called the museum of humanity's final war. Maybe that's what we're supposed to say. - There was definitely one I worked at a museum for the rich and famous. - That's also requested a lot too. That's just on my list. - Anyways, wound liquor. Wound liquor. So yeah, wound liquor also known as Mark Lynch has a ton of stuff. So if you're interested, all of his stuff will be linked. - He just released a bunch of year. It did just release a book this year, yes. - What's it called? - It's a novella called. - Broken road, something like that. - The name's called Kirst. - Hold on, I thought of a guy. - Hold on. - The Kirst border. - The Kirst, that, Kirst border. - The Kirst border. - A novella called the Kirst border. - Mm-hmm. - It came out this year. And he also has a bunch of other works. So if you're interested in the story today, there is more to read from him. - If you're interested. - Yeah, support the author. - Go grab a book. - Also have social pages and writing pages, stuff like that linked below as well. - You're right. Also, do you like Patreon? Well, we're there. If you want to get some extra content, feel free to go to patreon.com/creepcast. It does help support the channel. So thank you. Also, if you're listening to this on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or anywhere you can listen to a podcast, please give us a nice rating. It helps us out greatly. Ready? - I am ready. So let's see what the insight is. Michael Appedia Salisman has to offer. This is anything good to store. This is just creepypasta.com. When you scroll to the top, occult, magic, witchcraft, curse book, demons, witch, hell, internet, killers, witchcraft, mystery, witchcraft, mystery. I got it. Thank you. I can't claim I was at a low point in my life when the Salisman came knocking on my door. It'd be easy to say I was desperate and emotionally vulnerable, and therefore fell a foul of stark powers. It's true that I wasn't entirely satisfied with my life. I had a decent job in a nice home, having inherited a decent amount of money after my mother passed. Score. Did you say score? Score. See the way you phrased it at first, man, it sounded like, I thought you were saying that you were going to score with this guy's mom now that she's dead, no, saying that score is in mom past left you a big ol' bag of money. Thanks, mommy. Are you waiting on that to happen? No, my mom doesn't have any money. I am waiting for it to pass, though. One of these days, I'm going to get a call or a message that she drowned in the crack. I want to say, God bless her. Oh, Rubha, Jamaica. I miss my mom, of course, but I dealt with my grief as best as I could and moved on. And relationships were always a challenge for me. I'd had girlfriends, but never married and had no children. Hell, I don't really have any close friends. Plenty of acquaintances, but no one I could trust with my underthoughts and dreams. Can I just say that this is the third name guy? The third story. No matter what. No matter what. I don't give a fuck how this is or whatever happens next. No matter what. If the next story starts with some mopey-ass son of a bitch, being like, oh, no, got any friends. I'm a bit of a loner. I'm where the show's done. How do you think they end up on Kirby Paws of that call? I think there's a lot of lonely sons of bitches writing stories. I mean, probably. I'm not going to say no, but it's also weird that they all enter all their stories with. I don't really have any friends. I haven't really had a girlfriend either. So that character's name from now on needs to be Jack, because that was his name. That was the first one, right? Billion times in the first one, yeah. Jack. So this Jack archetype? Jack is the in-sale guy who's like rubbing his arm like this. I don't know. I guess I guess it just never really had friends. I don't know what I don't know what guys like you would want with a fool like me. Guys, you guys want to play Hockey sack? You guys want to give a sack of Hockey somewhere? You guys want to hack my sack? Do you want to go down my balls? Do you want to go down to Famburger? Yeah. As you guys want to go to Famburger. That's it. So Jack is a hundred percent the kind of Jack's are wait. So I'm not wrong. We enjoy his Famburger, but people might be upset because they think a lot of people associate that archetype with David King. No, completely different. Those are two different characters. Would you not agree? He said, he said people associate that with David King David King. David King. He said the in-sale kind of like. No, no, no, no, no. David King's like the anime ninja. Also to be fair, David King's very confident. Oh, absolutely. Jack is not. Jack is like the, some guys get all the luck. David King is like, a woman would be overwhelmed with my prowess of the feminine species. That'd be a David King thing, but a Jack thing would be like, a douche does what? That's Jack. That's what they were calling me. Yeah. You have a flow mean. So it's like, you gotta leave the store. Tampax, is that like a power agent in me? Sort of. Extra large. It must be huge down there. Can you imagine? Can you imagine the, you know, it's fucked up. That definitely is happening. No way, babe. Yeah. Is he pretending to get an argument with his girlfriend? He has probably heard me argue with my girlfriend. Yeah. I'm so sorry. Hold on. Hold on three boxes of heavy flow tampax boxes. I guess I'm going to have to pay for these again. That's, now that's a terrifying character. That guy that goes to Walgreens and buys tampons. You know what's crazy? He gets seem like he's buying them for a woman. Just crazy. I have no idea how tampon works. I know what they do, but I don't know how it's like what kind of contraption it is. I don't know how it works. Do we need to have a talk? I don't think that's, is that odd for a boy not to know for a little boy to not know how a tampon works? Do you know how a tampon works, Harry? I guess I know the function. It comes in a plastic wrap. I know you go up there to suck up all the stuff, all the, the goopy goop, which is a heavy flow where they put extra cotton on the string, whatever, but I was going to say the whole, you rip off the package, whatever. Hey, then there's a, there's a plastic tube. So, all right. All right, PC, I like, see, I like, I like the diva cup, so I say don't wash, ladies. It's like a, it's, so that plastic thing is called an applicator and it's like a syringe. And you insert the large part near the front and then you push in on the syringe and it goes up in there and then the strings hang out and you pull it out by the strings. That's so funny. That's awesome. So, I like how every time you're done with your tampon, it's like being in a Victorian style tub and you take off, you take out the, and the drain goes. Yeah, that's cool, man. Also, I feel like we could probably update that. I don't know how you would, I think the cup is awesome. Just don't wash the cup, ladies, as long as I say, that's a failure. You let it build up on there. There's gotta be something powerful growing on it. It's like the boy whatever, when me put the placenta, that's supposed to be good for you, too. Those can't be considered as the same to come from kind of the same area. They do. There's like health class, great class, health class. There you go. Yeah, something like that. For all your seven sisters out there, you can learn about feminine hygiene. Yeah, exactly. From two grown men. Next we're going to do is run, teach people how to put a condom on. No. We're not going to say that. Magnum is too big. Throw those away. What would happen if you put a tampon on your butthole? Would it absorb anything? Would that do anything? Would that clean you out? Would that be good for your butt? I mean, what, I don't, what it actually, I don't know. I've had an impasse. There's nothing I could say that will. My doctor legitimately told me that I was like a dog, I was like a dog. My anal glands, they leak and they're fucking discussing it. I put a, oh my gosh. Okay. You were like a dog. Well, he didn't say I was like a dog. He said, you should simulation. Never truly bothered me. Hmm. Do we feel like Jack is a, where's my hug type of guy? No, after a while. Hey, thank you. Thank you. Hey, where's my hug? Um, I feel like he is after a while. What Jack asked could his butt hole get cleaner? He used a tampon. No. You know who would ask that? Who? Bam Margera at Grail and Poe. That's the character we have that would ask. I'm gonna put a tampon on my butt. Yeah, okay. I'll fill it. No, I feel like Jack's a very like, well, you know, be sure to, be safe out there, ladies, blah, blah, blah. But then like the, the hug might thing would come around later. I feel like the where's my got, hug guy is too confident for a Jack. So that's. I disagree. I feel like it's. I disagree. The, the, the, where's my hug guy that's the most insecure person, you know? Insecure, but come on. It's tough. It's tough. It's tough. And pushing those words out took, it was moving a mountain. But they pushed it out, pushing it one out, yeah, yeah, you're saying it was a big effort to do that. Yeah. Uh, you were just surfing the top. No. No, no. Where are we at? The loser and what? We're the, where's it still the social isolation. Okay. Still the social isolation never truly bothered me since childhood. I'd always been an introvert and content to keep my own company. It was more than that. I always felt that I was different from other people and into to you who lived amongst humanity wasn't truly with them. I sense there was something within me, it wasn't quite natural. I, my God, that, wow, welcome to the jungle, I'm really just, you're going to die. Just anytime it's such a pick me line, I always felt that I was different from other people and entity who lived amongst humanity. What are you talking about, what are you doing, man? It's in the air. I knew this was coming. All right. This has been a day for the, this has been a rough protagonist day, loners, outcast. Has it, I feel like we've, this just feels like very back to back. It is. We haven't had that many. Usually it's guys who are planning this. Yeah. This is on excellent, too. This was not the original spread of stories. No. Yeah. Hmm. But here we are. And so I could beat it. I'm still waiting for the Encyclopathy to show up. An entity among humanity. I did it like a human, I'll tell you this where we're at right now. Is we're playing Blackjack and we've got both of our cards and they add up to 14. Yeah. And we don't know what the dealer has yet. Oh no, the dealer has an ace and saying insurance and we're like this. I can't even tell you. We're not there. I'll let you know when the dealer has to make right now. We have a 14, which means we're not doing hot. No. So the only hope is that this fails in a direction that works for us. Which is why we want to think our sponsor today, which is Draft Kings. Yeah, that's the day that when we start doing that in like AI, ads and stuff like that. Oh brother, they got us. The day you die, I hope you realize that I'm going to make an AI copy of you. And I'm going to give them like an accent. That does talk to like cry as a hunter. At least tell me more about the tampon and the bottom hole. That would actually be such a funny bit. If like you go into a psychosis and recreate me, but it's like all these passive aggressive additions to show has the show has 7,000 views for episode. I think that people would be more understand because they're like always going through it. You know, this is his way of coping and it's like petty views now. Yeah, it's petty views now. But the AIME is like a very like voodoo doll level me that you have exaggerated. Like the lips are literally like this big and talks in like an Italian accent that no one can understand. And like, you know, like, yep, Isaiah, nothing changed. Yeah. I have a banjo. These are all things that are pretty real as I know. I'm sunburned all the time. It's true. Be red. I tell you, when you get sunburned, you love are you? I do. You boil. I get tired right now. I got sunburned the other day. And it was just rough. It looked like a lobster. Got that hot ass lied on you too. It's just like this big gleaming hot spot on your face. I do want you to know that people are watching there who cares about story. I do want you to know that I don't think anyone has ever made a dig at me in my life. That has stuck around to the degree the lips thing has. How's that dig? Just you talking about how fat my lips are. I can't remember the last normal piece of art someone's made or comment they've made about me. It's got to the point where like someone was posting like a list of my favorite YouTubers. And the semester of it, it was like 20 YouTubers and they were like, PewDiePie, pop the meat. And then for one of them, they drew lips. No phrasing of Windagoon, no talking. And in the comments, they were just talking about Windagoon. Everyone saw that and without explicitly saying what it was, they all green at the same level. If you look me up anywhere now, the lips are one of the first things that shows up. And sometimes the level of care people will put to it too. You think they'd just be like, oh, I make his lips big. They will add like texture and he'd tell like there's effort that goes into the depiction. Yeah. I'm trying to think why I keep seeing recently that I really like like- Are you strolling through all the different lip pictures of me right now? There's a lot of them. Yeah. But the one I really liked was it's like a still for Monster House, but they blow up that guy's lips. No. Yeah. Oh, I've seen it. All right, well, let's fucking make it do inside dangers here. Let's fucking get this thing on. For a long time, I believe this feeling was a form of mental illness or the result of some- What? What, you're not going to spit take really on the show? I had a sneeze. That wasn't me. That wasn't me laughing. Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. For a long time, I believe this feeling was a form of mental illness. It's subsided, okay. I said mental illness. I wouldn't take a moment to think today's sponsor, Lola Blankets, there's just something about the fall that makes staying in filled that much sweeter. But you can't do it alone. You need a comfy blanket to curl up with. Lola Blankets is the world's number one blanket, crafted with ultra soft luxury faux fur. It's stylish, machine washable, and built to last for years. Lola Blankets is also my go-to gift for any occasion. 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For better or for worse, Pandora's Box has been opened in my life, has changed forever. My story spans many generations and links. Just keep thinking about dropping mental illness in real life. My story spans many generations and links are mortar world with realms beyond human comprehension. But for me, we're like, what is happening? I don't know. Many generations and links are mortar world with realms beyond human comprehension. Every time I read, it's called the encyclopedia. He's like, I'm alone. But my life is so twisted, I'm like, what did I just say? I feel like I'm reading like a fucking shell-s oversteamed poem where the sidewalk ends or so shit. But for me, and I'll begin on one quiet Saturday afternoon when the enigmatic salesman came to my front door, I only vaguely recall what I was doing on that faithful day to the best of my recollection. I was searching for holiday deals on my laptop, sipping on it. I just like, I only vaguely recall what I was doing, and he was looking at, he was looking at coupon deals and line drinking of beers. He's like, I could only vaguely recall what I was doing. I remember the chair, the laptop, the deal, the beer. I was searching for holiday deals on my laptop and sipping on a cold beer while a football match, pleared in the background. Yeah, that's my specific. I mean, it sounds like a long you knew exactly, but it sounds like you remember quite well. I only vaguely remember what I was doing that day. It was about 8.45 in the morning, and I was looking myself breakfast, doing the tune of Rachel's. She'd tell you my morning. Do you remember the annoyance I felt when I heard the loud bang on my solid oak door? Not enough to be heard over the television and inside of my living room. Saturday afternoon was my time, and I wasn't keen on receiving visitors, especially unexpected ones. I've a ring doorbell installed, but the visitor chose not to use it, instead banging on my door with an unnecessary force. Shook my head in irritation as I opened the apple my phone, only to discover that I couldn't access the camera feed. I suppose I should have been concerned by this sequence of events, but in that moment, I was more angry than anything else, particularly as the knocking continued an increased in volume. Put my laptop down, pause the match, got up onto my feet, stomping along the corridor as the knocking continued, and I shouted, "Alright, I'm coming, dammit!" I'm still furious as I twisted the handle and opened the door, preparing to give the unwanted visitor a piece of my mind. But all my anger just melted away as soon as I cast my eyes upon him. It's difficult for me to explain the impact of seeing the salesman for the first time. He was not a particular attractive or attention-grabbing individual. In fact, he took the appearance of a small and physically meek elderly man. His body stooped over, his hair white, and skin wrinkled. He wore a musky smelling tweed suit and bow tie and propped himself up with the walking stick in one hand while carrying a leather briefcase in the other. My visitor supported a disarming, but somehow unnerving smile on his crusty lips, and his brown eyes were lit up with the passion and energy of a much younger man. I didn't find him threatening at first glance, far from it. Before the salesman even spoke a word I found myself at ease in his presence, it was no longer annoyed over his intrusion upon my afternoon. I never met the man before, and yet he seemed very familiar to me, like he was a long-lost relative who'd suddenly and unexpectedly walked back into my life. I struggled to find the words to address the old man, eventually stuttering my greeting. "Hello, can I help you?" Visitor Smahl widened as he spoke in an amicable yet somehow chilling voice. "Good afternoon, sir. It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." He held out his bony hand, which I took after only a second's hesitation. I expected his palm to be ice cold, so was surprised by the warmth of his palm, feeling like a surge of energy had passed from his body to mine. "My name is Mr. Black." He said in the way of introduction. "I'm a purveyor of rare books and encyclopedias. I believe my products will be of great interest to an intelligent and open-minded German, such as yourself. If you're at the time I would love to come inside and tell you more." "So is this Joe Black? Does this mean Joe Black?" "That's what I was wondering." "Have you remembered the scene from there where he's speaking?" "Uh, not pigeon, but. " "What did you talk to him for that?" "Sure, what's your search history?" "What?" "Show here you right now." "What are you doing?" "What?" "I don't know. I can't see it." "I can't describe it on camera." "It's no way I can say it." "What?" "It's fine?" "Do a charades." "Do a charades?" "No." "Where do you type it? Why did you type that in?" "So have you been giggling about over there?" "No." "Why not type it in?" "He's just looking at pictures of buff black guys." "His name was Mr. Black." "Did you type it in Mr. Black and that came up?" "Yeah." "Okay." "Well, do you remember the part in Meet Joe Black where they're talking to, I think, it's the Jamaican woman and it's Brad Pitt doing." "He does the Jamaican accent?" "That's so funny. That's the funniest, one of the funniest, serious movie scenes I think I've ever seen." "That's the Grim Reaper by the way." "I know. Him doing that voice." "That's my Grim Reaper. Him doing that voice to me." "To be fair though, I've always thought the Grim Reaper has a Jamaican accent rush to find an accent ever since Grim Vitch was a William Andy." "That's true. And it works so well." "It does work there." "Yeah." "It really does, I love it." "My hand was still in his as I looked into his deep brown eyes, seeing a spark of malice in them for the first time." "Experienced wave of emotions in that moment, curiosity and wonder, but also apprehension more than a hint of fear." "I don't know how exactly, but I realized that the decision I made in the next moment defined the rest of my life." "I could tell the mystery man to leave and go back to my quiet life of ignorance." On the other hand, I could invite him inside and hear what he had to say. "Of course, I chose the latter." "Sure, come on in." "The salesman, Mr. Black," or whoever it really was, released my hand, continuing to smile as he nodded his head and walked across the threshold. I moved to one side, allowing him to pass and watch him as he slowly marched down the wood-floored corridor. It's walking stick, clicking as he went. I meant to call out to him and tell my visitor where to go, but bizarrely, seemed like he already knew his way around my home, see immediately walked into the living room, leaving me to follow him inside. Now, before I continue my account, I should explain a couple of things. First of all, I knew very well that Mr. Black wasn't an encyclopedia salesman. Apart from anything else, the profession is obsolete in this modern age of online shopping and access to unlimited digital information. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't say that necessarily," says. "He's not one. Just an old guy who may be bad at business." It's kind of like, first off, he would not be an encyclopedia salesman because I have Wikipedia. "I don't think I've ever seen. When was the whole, like, globe salesman?" Was it just 50s, mostly? Probably just 70s, I'd say, it depends on the thing. I mean, there's 70s. There are much less. There's still, like, Tupperware. Yeah. Parties and stuff like that, yeah. One of the most documentary now episodes. Oh, yeah. The globe salesman's so good. "Should've been a firefighter like my dad." All of a says, "I could see a stack of smoke from four miles away." It's like, yeah, a lot of people can do that. What are you talking about? There's a documentary now episode. It's just really funny. It's so good. Secondly, I did realize my visitor was potentially dangerous. Although not in the conventional sense, Mr. Black was not physically imposing, and I thought it unlikely that he was armed. You might be a con man, of course, but I, since his interest in me, came from something deeper. What? I realized he was talking about the, I think he's talking about, like, the, uh, him being a con artist. No, I think, well, when he was shaking his hand, he said, there's Malacen as I, so I think that he's, there's some, I think he's just like, there's something devious going on with his old man. Which also, if there's an old man, am I stupid? I wouldn't fucking let him in. I know you even, even if he was fucking pawn at the door, being like, I can't get up. Cool, dude. Slam. So in a previous episode, you remarked that you would kiss someone. Oh, absolutely. But you would also slam the door in an old man's face. Oh, 100%. So what's your threshold for kissing someone versus like slamming doors in their face? Was it an old person? Is it an old person? Sure. Slam. So you would never kiss an old person? Wow. What's your, what's your age threshold? Uh, 45. It's a rough one. Why? Oh, the age threshold being 45, I agree. Are you going to hit that in a couple of years? Very soon. My wife hasn't really grasped the idea yet that in those years too, when she turns 45, that's their intimacy is gone. So what are you going to do when you hit 45 yourself? Does the age change? I don't think I'll make it. Are you just kidding? I, the legitimate, you want it? Well, legitimately, I think I'll be dead by, by, my actual age. You cut this. I hope I die on my sleep. That's what I'm hoping. You think you got five years? I took about five, five, probably solid years. I don't think so. Have you seen my 600,000 life? Those people get by so they're like 50. Yeah. They're hard to be able to do that and they're enlarged. Crazy. Unbelievable. I think do you have heart problems? I have like the heart of like a, like a, like a quail. It's fluttering. It's very, it's not good. Okay. So five years, give or take. So when you go, can I make an AI hunter? You can do whatever you want. It's your show. I'm going to get it cut out and I'm going to have like a radio. I love it. I'm like, says something like, it's funny. Yeah, I mean, I would love that. That's the whole show. Who probably German, but like, I've been told I look strong mustache German. I've been told I look German. Like, you're going to be yelling and like a Nazi accent kind of thing. So just German. So then the next show. So I'll do like five episodes with cut out hunter. And then I'll make a video being like a hunter passed away. Can pretend like the cut out was you and be like, yeah, that that Nazi stuff. He said he was really weird. But otherwise he was my body on tour. Like a casket you will doubt. If I can get the legal rise to that, I will take your body on tour. Yeah. What legal like his last friend, I'm going to say no. I mean transporting the corpse to human corpse. How do you drive around? You'd have to drive it. Yeah. Yeah. But I feel like there's sure there's some legislation. I'm in the casket. The back of your pickup. Just got like take me out, you know. Yeah. Yeah. I think I'm going to need Allison's rent permission on that. But I'll do it. She won't care. She's already married already. That's true. Yeah. She has a 48 hour turn around time. I forgot about that. Yeah. Pretty fun life. Thank you for the gift. Mama and papa. That's pretty pretty epic. I want to take a moment to think 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 slunderman 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 earn you money so that you can spend money on the things love. If you're worn up to speed already, CashApp is way more than just a safe way to send and receive money. With the CashApp card, you unlock a ton of perks without all the hidden fees. You can enjoy benefits like exclusive early access to nationwide concert pre-sales 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. 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I'll get a coffee and get checked out with Square. There's a local bookstore that I like to go in town, and they have it too. All together it creates such a simple checkout system. I get a text receipt in seconds and everything quick, clean, and modern. For the retailers, they can get real-time reports with Square on what they're selling to easily track growth trends to help them optimize their business. Recently, Square launched its most powerful tools yet, designed to give local businesses a competitive edge without the complexity. So if you're ready to sell smarter, run faster, and stress less, then right now is the perfect time. That's because you can get up to $200 off Square hardware when you sign up at square.com/go/creepcast. That's SQUARE.com/GO/creepcast. So you can run your business smarter with Square and get started today. Thank you to Square for sponsoring the show, their link will be in the description, and we are now back to the episode. I cautiously followed him into my living room, noticing how he'd already taken the seat in the far corner. If you've raised his hand, pointing at the couch, opposite while saying, "Please, take a seat." It was as if our roles were never reversed, and I was a guest in my own home. And yet, I obeyed his instruction without comment, taking a seat while I watched him lift and opened his briefcase. It was only later that I realized all the electronic devices in the room. My television, laptop, smartphone, were all now switched off, their screens turned to black. Even then, I didn't understand the significance of why this had occurred. At the time, he was like, "That's kind of weird." Anyway, I'd be like, "Are you radioactive? What did the fuck out of my house?" "Do you have a universal remote?" "Hey buddy, do you have any fucking magnets in your back pocket? Why don't you turn them off?" I continued watching it as the salesman pulled a fine, leather-backed, red book from his briefcase, holding it so carefully as if it was his most prized possession. I was instantly drawn to the mysterious book which my visitor held in his bony hands. The cover was unremarkable. A maroon color without any motif or title that I could see. The pages were stained yellow, which gave an indication as to its age, and it had that rather pleasant, musky smell you get in old bookstores or university libraries. I'd like to claim that the cover was made from dried human skin or covered by some kind of magical runes, but there was nothing that dramatic. The book itself looked very ordinary, and yet I couldn't have hurt my eyes from it. Somehow sensing that the words contained within were of great importance. "Behold sir, the greatest encyclopedia ever written." The salesman suddenly announced, drawing my attention back to his grinning, wrinkled face, and bright eyes. "All the answers you will ever need are contained within these pages." "It's called Death Note." "Have you heard of it?" "It's called Dragon Ball by Akira Toriyama." "That's awesome!" I frowned looking again at the book and noting its thickness. I reckoned it was around five to six hundred pages in length, which hardly seems substantial, given the claims the salesman was making. "So, this is what you're selling?" Salesman laughed jovely, shaking his head before replying. "Oh no sir, I'm afraid not. This book is priceless and sadly not for sale." I scalded, becoming increasingly suspicious of my enigmatic visitor. "You said you were a salesman." "I did!" He replied, seemingly picking up on my increasing hostility. "The truth is, I have held many possessions over the years. Preacher, historian, emissary salesman, in all cases, the common thread is storytelling." I scoffed dismissively before replying. "So what? You're here to tell me a story?" "Oh yes sir." Beamed for the enthusiasm as he began to open the cover. "I could tell you many stories, this wonderful book is full of them." "I see. Let me ask you something old-timer. Have you ever heard of Wikipedia?" "Cottom. Sheld that old Kooz boss." "Hey dipshit." "Have you heard of the internet?" "It's good." "I hate old people." "Yeah." I was being deliberately facetious, of course, challenging the salesman's assertion that this book contained long sought-after answers when I could literally access all the information in the world, but the mirror touched my finger. The mysterious Mr. Black look confused for a moment as if my question made no sense to him, but eventually he caught Don and answered in his jovial manner. "Oh, you mean the worldwide web?" "Well sir, I'm afraid I am something of a techno foe, but let me assure you sir, the tales within these pages will not appear on your internet." He paused briefly to let this sink in. "I might have laughed aloud at his audacious claim, but there was a doubt in my mind." I clanced back towards my phone, laptop, and television, noting how all it switched off as soon as the salesman entered my home. "This is going to be a coincidence, and the implications brought a chill down my spine." Salesman didn't seem to notice my change in demeanor, however. He was engrossed in his precious encyclopedia, carefully, and lovingly turning the pages. His eyes sliding up, while they scanned the contents. Such was the power of the words contained within. "Now let's see. What story would be of interest to you, good sir? Perhaps the tragic saga of Amir de la Corre and her exile to the legendary Isle of Demons?" He flew through the pages before offering another suggestion. "Oh, when I tell you the rules of the Shadowlands, with a damn standing line between Heaven and Hell, whilst they await the old mighty judgment." He turned another page, looking up from the book. He shot me a twisted grin in the sly wink. "But let's not beat about the bush, good sir. I do the story you wish to hear. The story of you, your past, your present, and of course, your future." It snorted again, but with less confidence in before. Can you do an unconfident snort? Yeah, that was it. I still thought he was full of crap, but doubts were creeping into my mind. I tried to make a joke out of it, but my voice was trembling when I asked my next question. "You got a chapter about me in there." That's a bell you can't unrange. These stories. "Once Scooby-Doo voices enter the picture." Now coming back. "Well, he said it was shaky, trembling. If you start doing Scooby-Doo voices, I'm gonna start doing Scooby-Doo voices." Oh, I see. That was me playing the guy straight, but he was just being, you know, like, "No, I'm more so asking for permission." No, let's see where it goes. We have to get at least give it a little bit of a doubt. "I sound rude or bad, I guess I had to be." This salesman's smile faded somewhat. As to the spark in his eyes, this energy seemed to diminish. Yes. He said in a more solemn tone. "You, sir, have a very prominent You proceeded to read my full name and date of birth, along with cursory details of my early life and education. I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Of course, these were details he could have tamed through several sources, and on the surface, the whole thing seemed like a scam, but there was more. Salesman was somehow able to confirm my day of death. Key claim would be the 13th of July, 2066. Did you ever, when you were younger, did you ever go on any of those, like, death day websites? I did the, not when I was too much younger, but do you remember the pink eye cult? So it was the thing that went around YouTube where it was a YouTube channel that would put, I think it's all gone now, but they would post celebrities, like Michael Jackson, or like, trying to think of a recent one who died, OJ Simpson or whatever, right? And then you would go, and it would be a pink eye, and the eye would blink, and it would give a date when it blinked. And it was all the deaths of these actors, but then you look on the video, and they were posted like 15 years ago. It's like the stuff was posted way, way back in the site's history. And now it's like, seemingly years ago, they correctly predicted the dates of all these famous people, which it turned out the way they did it was they had posted a bunch of these videos years back for a ton of celebrities. And then, because the titles weren't being edited or anything, but they were posting like the eye blinking every month, every day, every year. So then when that celebrity died, they would go back and trim the video in the editor to just get the correct ones. I see. But it was creepy at first. He gave the appearance that it worked, so people figured it out. But I did that because they had a discord you could join. And it was like, we'll tell you the date you died. And mine was August. I want to say April or August of 2067. Throw that out there if anyone was 2067. I think so. That's a relevant number right now. It is. I also remember I did that. And my dad freaked out. Why would you look that up? Yeah. He's like, why are you talking to death cults? Where are you doing? You know, you got real upset about it. I mean, 26, that's, you still got me 68. Yeah. I'd be fine with that. My wife maybe not so much. Such a long time to live. Did you ever do one of them? Oh, yeah. What did they give you? I can't remember. But I know I was just like, oh, it freaked me out. It was definitely like before 2010. Why not? I did it. So it was like a wedding. You would die as a child. Huh? They're predicting you would die as a child. No, no, I'm saying that I went on that. Oh, I thought you said the day. No, no, no. That's really funny. Oh, no. You know, they had a certainly that where it's like it's tomorrow and they're like, oh, no, no. There was a short story I read in college. I can't remember the name of it. But it was about a kind of dystopian future where scientists had made this machine that tells you the day you're going to die. And it followed a husband and wife who the husband hated the idea of it, but the wife went against his wishes and got it and said that she was going to die in like five years. So their whole like for five years, they're dreading it and like, they're so scared. And then the night comes and it's on the night. She's like, I don't know what's going to happen. He's holding her and it ends there, but the implication is nothing happened. So they like wasted five years for stuff. So one of the comments can probably inform me of what it is. I really like that story. There's a bunch of awesome short stories I read in my English literature class in college that I can barely remember the names of any of them. I obviously didn't listen to that Tim McGraw song. I went skydiving. I went rocking mountain climbing. I went to board seven seconds on a bowl named Fu Manchu. And I love deeper and I spoke sweeter and I gave forgiveness. I get the night. Yeah. And there's a day I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying. That's how I've lived every day. I heard that song and I was like, God, that's a good point. So I've been doing that every day. You've been bull riding it every day. It's such a blessing. It's so condescending coming from you. He's he's he's tested it. Oh, skydiving. I laughed nervously at this revelation before saying so your fortune teller as well as a story teller. Oh, no. You replied with a dried chuckle. I can tell the future. I mean, that go by what's in the book, but it's never been wrong yet. I will say the so your fortune teller line. Very wrapping at the door of so monster hunter, huh? Not nearly as bad. You know, people have gone back and they say that we read that wrong. Oh, yeah. So many people are like, I love that story. I love those parts of it. They're wrong. I'll tell you what, our fuse to go back and correct my mistakes. Absolutely not. Only got five years to live. So that's true. You can't be someday. I hope I get the chance to live like I was dying. You got to you got to be living in pin not pencil. Yeah. You can't have time to be thinking about a race and to make mistakes. You got five years to live. Oh, I see. Yeah. Yeah. It's like a bell. Also, this is episodes are by big. There was a. It's like a marker line. What was the story? So I saw a guy post on YouTube. He was like, it was just a 10 minute rant. He was like, my favorite story of all time is my property. Is it normal? I've listened to that story dozens of times. It's my favorite story. I watch one creep cast episode and I can never listen to that story again. What was my property? Is it normal? What's my name? That was what about the guy who we said is fat going out and like he Mark Wahlberg thinks he's a super agent and all that. He was like, now every time I go back to listen, I just think of a fat guy trying to climb up a tree. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Your favorite story ever written. I would work. That's a rough one. It's a lot of great stuff, man. There's a bunch. I say stuff like that. I promise there's a bunch of people that are like, Hey, he watched my video. It's like, I, if it's tag creep cast, I've seen it. Oh, really? Do you look at a lot of shit? I'll go through it. If I have free time, I just see what like fans are posted and stuff. And there's a video titled like creep cast ruin my favorite creepy pasta. Of course, I'm going to I can't not click on it. He was a good, that kid was like, he thought it was very funny and stuff. He was mostly doing it to be fun. But the similar with the thing in the basement, people love. People love that story. What does it say so far that we've done everything possible to not read the story? I think it says what. Woon, Woon, Woon liquor is going to be upset. That's fine. It's actually, you know, it's a story. The story hasn't done anything to me. I like Marcus. It's the author's name is Mark. If you that's your pet name for him, you go right ahead. The story hasn't done anything to me yet. It's not. I'm ready to get into it. Well, shall we be the old man's head of the encyclopedia, guys, here. I took a deep breath to compose myself once I realized my body was physically shaking with anticipation. The whole situation was insane. My logical brain told me that none of this could be true. And yet I fully trusted the mysterious salesman in that moment. I don't know whether he'd be witch me with his black magic or because deep down, I'd always yearn for this self validation. But at this point, I was hanging on his every word. I love that. I love that line with this next quote. I've always yearned for this self validation. What else does the book say about me? What? You say I'm awesome. The book even say anything about him or then he's going to die. I think that I was a memory. He said a bunch of stuff of his day, all this other stuff. And then he said, what day is going to die? He said, well, I mean, I think it's just some information. He's just like, what else is in there? Yeah. The salesman didn't answer. Instead, looking up from his sacred text and towards the manel piece on the far side of my living room, so he lifted his right hand and pointed towards a frame picture. It took center place. Your mother. Yes, and a sympathetic tone. I looked at the picture, seeing my mom smiling face and sparkling eyes, experienced a twinge of grief. Is I remembered how much I missed her? Yes. I wondered why my visitor had changed the subject, felt frustrated at the slack of answers. She never told you about your father, did she? Paws momentarily. Views by the question, but also feeling like he'd hit a raw nerve. She did. My father died shortly before. He was born. Salesman shot me a sympathetic half-smile. "That's not true though, is it? You've always known this deep down, but you could bring yourself to confront your mother not even when she lay on her deathbed." Swallow deeply, trying to control the flood of emotions I was experiencing. I believe the salesman followed me a moment to process these feelings before he continued to talk. He does this. Got your nose. I got your nose. I have to go now. This is why it's out. Bye bye. And that's when he stole my nose. I thought over his cryptic words for only a moment forced snappy and patiently. Tell me. Tell me everything. You read that like John Mulaney. What? That was a very John Mulaney voice. Oh, yeah, I guess. It's not kind of disappointed how I respond to that. I just mean, yeah, you seem sad. I'm not the biggest John Mulaney fan, but you know, did I hurt your feelings a little bit? I met it in a positive way. I do love big mouth, but Santa kind of like spider pig. Spider-verse. Oh, how's that? Is he voice spider pig? Oh, I'm a fan now. It's a hock spider pig. Spider pig. His reaction surprised me as a salesman as a salesman frowned. Smile disappearing as his expression darkened. Got your nose. At the water quality next day. Hey, Ali, so I lost my nose. Jake, where did your nose go? Never. I think not, sir. I came with honest intentions, but now I see you are not ready for the truth. My jaw dropped in astonishment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing and stated as much angrily. No, you can't leave me hang like this. I must know. I will leave you with two names. Salesman replied cryptically. Charles Robinson and fat Albert and Fatima Abraham. That's kind of fat Albert a little bit. Who the hell are they? My mom was fat Albert. Shot back at anger and confusion. With that salesman carefully stood up from his seat and slowly walked towards the door. I was literally baffled, believing that our bizarre encounter could end like this. I had a rush of blood to my head, deciding that I could not let him leave without first obtaining the answers I needed so badly. In an instant, jumped up from the couch, reaching for the elderly salesman, grabbing him firmly by the arm. No more bullshit, old timer. You're not leaving. I want to read what's inside that damn book. I didn't expect much resistance from the elderly man, and so was astonished when he reacted violently, exerting a near superhuman strength as he pulled free from my grasp and physically shoved me to the floor. I looked up fearfully, seeing the salesman transformed into something monstrous, sized black and his mouth opening to reveal a gaping dark hole. He hissed at me like a cat, and when he spoke, his words were deep and almost inhuman. I froze in terror, averting my eyes from his hideous second face. I didn't need to be told twice, remaining on the floors to salesman left the room. His briefcase and walking stick in hand as he slowly walked down the corridor. I heard the door slam shut in my heart's sink because I knew that this bizarre encounter had changed my life forever. You won't be surprised to learn that I was grasped by a frenic obsession following the salesman visit. I tried to track him down, searching and contacting every bookstore and sales company in a 100-mile radius, all to no avail. I cannot find the mysterious Mr. Black or his unidentified encyclopedia, matter how hard I tried. And so, all I had to work with was the two names he'd provided me. No exaggeration to say that I spent months attempting to track down Charles Robinson and Fatima Abraham. Despite the salesman distrust of the internet, I used this resource extensively during my long and frustrating search. Obviously, there are thousands of individuals on social media with these names, and I had no additional information, such as their ages or geographical locations. I quickly realized it was pointless contact in random people online, and my best bet was targeting forums, which specifically dealt with bizarre or supernatural occurrences. Even then, I faced many frustrations and dead ends, but eventually, I was able to find the correct Charles and Fatima amongst the host of trolls and scammers. How could I be sure, you ask? Well, both had received their own visits from the enigmatic Mr. Black and were able to confirm details about the salesman and his previous encyclopedia without being prompted by me. I was therefore confident that all three of us had shared the same, probably supernatural experience. I haven't been picked out, but the cruelest salesman for whatever reason. It's possible that all three of them were in it together, and I was their mark. I did consider the possibility it was all an elaborate hoax, but for what purpose? I also did my own independent research on the two individuals, and I'm sure they checked me out too. By all accounts, Charles and Fatima were unremarkable people who didn't stand out from the crowd. This was my first impression, at least. There's no obvious connection between the three of us. I won't reveal where I live, but can provide some details about my companions. Fatima Abraham lived in London, having been born and raised in the UK capital. Brother was English and her father in Egyptian. Fatima wasn't married and had no kids. She didn't even own a pet as far as I knew. She worked in finance and had few friends. Meanwhile, Charles Robinson held from the American Midwest, where he worked as a locksmith and ran his own small business. Again, he was unmarried and childless. I suppose three of us did share some characteristics. We were all single introverts around the same age. All of us were suspicious of other people to the extent we could be described as misanthropists. Likewise, we all had comfortable livelihoods, but felt unfulfilled. Fatima, Charles and I, believed there was something missing from our lives. Some dark secret which had been kept from us. We all desired to learn the secret, and this was surely why the salesman had sought us out, because he had the answers we thought we so desperately needed. As the three of us communicated through private messages, it soon became apparent that Fatima and Charles had more information than I did. Salesman had left me hanging, hinting at the identity of my father and my ultimate destiny. On the other hand, secrets were revealed to my companions that changed their lives forever. I've made the decision to share their stories here, if only because their fates are linked to my own. I will share their own words which I received in the form of direct messages up until the point they broke off contact. Charlie Stale. I don't know what to tell you guys about my upbringing. My family weren't rich, but I was brought up right. I didn't know much about my heritage. Mom and dad were always KG on the subject. I knew that my grandfather had changed his surname as a young man, but never knew why, and no one would ever talk about it. I reckoned there was likely a dark family secret which had been kept from me. It wasn't something I dwell on, however. I was a difficult kid. That would be fair to say. I remember being angry much of the time, but never truly understood why. I would frequently get into fights in school and was in no end of trouble. My parents were very concerned about my behavior. It was almost like they were afraid of me. I guess I always felt this rage inside of me. I got better at controlling it as I grew older, but my inner thoughts were often consumed by violent fantasies. These feelings worried me and contributed to my anxiety, but I never talked about them or sought professional help. In fact, this is the first time I've shared any of this. Anyway, my adult life hasn't been anything special. I've survived, but never been happy. I just existed and played the game. I don't know why I started working as a locksmith. I'm not a people person and I secretly hate most of my customers, but the idea of being able to access their homes excited me on some deep level. I was able to intrude upon their private domains and so held a secret power over them. got worse, got worse with the next one, those are two wild lines back to back. You're probably seeing a lot of red flags here, yep, and you'd be right to do so. But still, I'd repress these dark impulses, might well continue to do so if it hadn't been for the salesman's visit. You guys know the score, so I won't repeat it here. When that freak came knocking on my door and started talking about encyclopedias, I was just about ready to tell him to go to hell, but I held my tongue and let him inside my home. I can't explain why. You guys have been through the same experience, so I know you'll understand. Somehow, I felt like I could trust this stranger, and I needed to hear what he had to say. The next bit you know, too. He took that damn book out of the briefcase and started reading. There were a couple of weird stories he started off on. I remember, I'm sorry, Hunter, are you bored? Are you bored right now, Hunter? Do you like that? Yeah, Hunter sent me a middle of that, Hunter sends me a picture of his laptop, what he's been doing over there, which is googling PNG art of a man sleeping. So thank you. It's clip art. So are you bored? So are you mean by that? I could use it to pick up a little bit. Oh yeah, this will be a pickup. So the other day, Hunter texted me when I was going to see my chemical romance, and he sent me a voicemail that I haven't heard yet. This is a safe voicemail to play on the podcast. I think so. Okay. Do you remember what it is? No. Okay. I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it ♪ Things are better if I stay ♪ - How do you feel about this so far? - I mean, it's very. Sometimes I feel bad about the stories to be readin' here at the end of the day 'cause I'm already low energy, but I feel like, I felt like my energy, I feel like I was amped up to record. We had a lot of good bits and stuff, but the story's given us nothing. - I mean, it's really just like, I feel a feeling that I'm missing a feeling that I feel like I'm going to be. - When I saw he's like, go talk to these two people, I was like, "Oh God." - But now we're just getting his account. I don't even think I've retained a bit of knowledge from him. - I don't know what's happening. - Yeah, I was a good old boy, but my life I'm missing something. - Oh my God. - That's like, just whatever. - Kind of burped. Oh my God. - Five years or five minutes. (laughs) - All right, we took a break from recording this 'cause we got bored. That's part we were to say. - No, leave that. - We had tickets to go see a movie that you can see here. We saw ice cream and by Eli Roth. - I don't love it. - We had a review of it up on Patreon, if you feel so inclined, if you want to listen to us ramble on about. - An hour of us ramping in the storm. - Nothing but praise. - There's no buildup of any character. There's nothing I actually give a fuck about. - It's all just absolute fucking horse shit. - Nothing about what? - Yeah, nothing but praise. You can check that out. - So I say it. - Tell me what the hell has been going on in this story. - All right. We got our main character, our Jack, right? Who has been visited by the encyclopedia of salesmen who has this book that tells him everything about this guy's life. He's now found two other people that the salesman has visited, and they're each given their own account. It's Charlie and Fatima. Didn't he not tell him what's up because he's like, oh, you're not ready to handle the truth yet? - About his father. So you have to find these other two people, yeah. Which my bear trap is they probably all have the same dad 'cause he's suspicious of who his father is and so are these other two. So I imagine that's where it's going. So this isn't the midst of Charlie's account. The next bit you know too, he took that damn book out of his briefcase and started reading. I remember some talk of a hidden museum of the future apocalypse and a fan of bus full of ghost and ghouls. I assume those are references to his other, the author's other works, but yeah. I don't recall all the details. These stories scared the shit out of me but he soon moved on to my own sorted family history. It all goes back to my great-grandfather you see. His name was Ivan Robson. He was notorious around these parts. Between 1922 and 1930, Ivan carried out at least 11 brutal murders in the tri-state area. 11 is what he confessed to anyway. Although the true number may have been much higher. Ivan was one of the earliest known serial killers in the Midwest, practicing his ghastly trade with the butcher's knife, cutting his victims' throat from ear to ear and savage, but meticulously executed attacks. His trademark was to break into the victim's homes while they were out and laying wait. Launching his murderous assaults once they returned home. I guess what? Ivan trained as a locksmith, just like I did. This, I feel like this might be an actual killer. I feel like I remember a butcher who like was a locksmith and would break into people's homes he installed locks on. I feel like I remember that story anyway. This was how he gained access to the victim's homes and he used his profession as a cover for traveling from town to town, scoping out his targets while he planned his murders. It's difficult for me to describe my emotions as I listen to these revelations, shock, of course, and more than a little fear. The most extraordinary part was how the salesman told the story. He wasn't just reading the words from the book. Well, he was, but it was more than that. The salesman described the murders to me. He didn't just cover every vivid and gory detail. The words he spoke seemed to hold some kind of dark power. Somehow, I was transported to the murder scenes, feeling the knife in my hand and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I was in my ancestor's body, hiding in a stranger's home and waiting for them to return. I vividly recalled the tear in their eyes as I revealed myself, charging there was my blade in hand. Some fought back fiercely, meaning I had to stab them multiple times before they fell. Others coward and begged for mercy. It made no difference in the end because I slaughtered every victim without a second thought. In truth, I enjoyed reliving my ancestors' heinous crimes from the screams of his victims to the smell of their blood. It was like a part of me, which had been very deep inside, was finally released. And now, I knew who I was. But it's like hearing a dream about a coworker, you don't like a walker or a work. It's like you're stuck in a conversation. Yeah. I can't get out. This is what-- Let me out. I mean, would anyone on Earth find this scary? Are you saying you feel like a coworker? I legitimately feel like this. I feel like I'm being held hostage at my workplace. I mean, he's describing his grandfather being a serial killer. Yeah. [LAUGHS] Yeah. [LAUGHS] But the blood is straight-- look, I've walked these grounds long enough. For the dynamic of this show, only one of us can crash out at a time. If we both do, it gets rough, right? Sure, this show, this show. So I'm going to stay locked in. You like your turn? Yeah, I had my turn. I can raise it up if you want. I can cut that out. No, no, no. I'm saying I'm going to be our anchor. So you, as much as you want. I'm giving you open field, right? I'm taking-- Let me mistake. I'm taking you old-- I'm taking you old Bessie to the fence line. And I'm opening up the gate. I'm saying there you go, girl. All right. All you want. OK. I'll keep the fence. But the bloodiest string of murders came to an inevitable end when the police up with you. My great-grandfather during the early years of the Great Depression, the detective who caught him was called Underwood, rising star in the local police force who later joined the FBI. That's the salesman described the-- [LAUGHTER] That's a fucking carefree string. God. This is like being stuck at a child's birthday party. This is like that. Police. So I was called Underwood. He was an up-and-coming guy. Anyways, as the salesman described the arrest, I was once again taken back. Bessie, my late relative's body, as I was thrust into a tight windowless interrogation room during the hot summer of 1930. Underwood was standing over me. His face read with fury in this shirt covered in sweat as he screamed to my face. I remember being terrified by his overbearing and intimidating presence. It wasn't just that Underwood was physically imposing. There was also a malice in his eyes which was truly chilling. I didn't need to imagine what my great-grandfather was feeling in that moment. I knew he was scared. It's a crazy thing to imagine a serial killer being afraid of a mere cop, but there was a darkness within Underwood that was frightening. When my great-grandfather didn't confess, Detective Underwood beat him without mercy. The torch went on for hours, and I felt every blow my ancestor suffered. In the end, he was forced to sign a confession for the 11 murders. I experienced a great anger once I learned how my ancestor subjected to the show. treatment, even though I realized he was in fact guilty. I will agree. I'm not, I'm not crashing out. I'm not crashing out too. I'm just saying to be like, yeah, killed 11 people, but they beat him up. That's sad. I experienced a little great anger once I learned how my ancestor was subject to this treatment, even though I realized he was in fact guilty. Even though he killed 11 people in their house, he did kill 11, probably more people. Yeah. But boy was I pived when I found out the police beat him up. That's so mean. They're big meanies. Underwood, my grandfather might have been a serial killer, but I don't. Let me show you pictures of my kids from my wallet. That's what I feel like. No, the song that I feel like, okay, it's 100 feels like. Again, 100 is welcome to feel that. I'm being a hater. This is a hater episode for me. Yeah, that's good, because I think we need that dynamic right now. I feel like that's what that's nothing we need. The Eli Ross ice cream movie. No, no, no, no, we just, we just spent it now. All right. All right. Okay. What were you going to say? Is it concise? No. Okay. Ivan Robson was executed on the 15th September 1932. Salesman described the execution to me in great detail. Once again, I was transported back in time, finding myself strapped into the electric chair, shaking uncontrollably as they read me my last ride and pulled the lever. The electricity flowed through me, causing me excruciating pain as my body cooked from the inside out. And then it all went dark. I was thrust back to the present, sitting on my couches, sitting on my couches. The salesman finished reading before he put the book carefully back in his briefcase and made a leave. I tried to stop him. Of course I did. There were still so many unanswered questions in my head, but you know how that goes. The old man doesn't like much, but he packs a mean punch. And then he left me, having turned my life upside down in the course of one afternoon. Could I go back to the way things were, not after everything I'd learned? So I started doing my own research much like the two of you. As you can imagine, there's been a lot written about my late ancestor. I also came onto these paranormal forums and started asking questions about the salesman guy. That's how I got in touch with you guys, obviously. I appreciate having you both to talk to you about this crazy shit. I haven't spoken with my parents. Frankly, I feel betrayed by them both because they hid the truth for me for so long. It's difficult for me to describe my emotions at this time, but I feel more than anything else is rage. That anger, unless for violence, is so longer. This is legitimately if an alien wrote a piece of like text to be like, how can I try to mimic a human? That's what the fuck is going on. They have a deep darkness on her. They all have a deep darkness. This is my grandma. I had a grandma. I had a grandma who was in the retirement home. Here we go. And she once told me I visited her. One time of my mom, and one of my mom was getting us lunch and I had to be left there with my grandma. My grandma told me about how her roommate, she thought that she stole her marbles for maybe 45 minutes. And this is like, this is less interesting than my grandma talking about marbles that she lost. And I remember that was like a horrifying experience. Because it was so boring. Well, there's a lot of factors to the grandma story that I don't know if I want to die of old cheer, but I will say that like this, like there is so much being said, but nothing's being said. Put a bit in that. Come back. There's details to your grandma story. You don't know if you want to share. Yeah. Is there anything that you can share? Nothing I feel super comfortable sharing. Are you serious? Yeah. Hold on, hold on. You've got a grandma story. Your grandpa shooting your dog, fair game, open field. That was an accident. So you thought, but there are details to your grandma story. I don't feel comfortable saying, which is coming, which is a lot coming. That's insane coming from here. It's a lot coming for me. All I know, all I can say is that this feeling that I have deep inside, I feel like I feel like I'm, it's almost like being a kid, being somewhere that he is like, when is this going to be over? Yeah, you're suffering with the story. We got it. We got it. Just give me some of my broken records. No, no, no, just give me something from the grandma, just a tinge. I'm not going to, I'm not in the mindset to talk about this. I'm not going to talk about it. Wow. I don't know what this is. Had Eli Roth's ice cream man. I had, I had several, several. No, no, no, what I'm saying is I know what I'm saying is I had several long and nice teas. We stopped at a gas station and you got three airplane bottles to prepare for the movie. It wasn't enough. But I've been in a spot right now. You know, it's weird though, as I thought that in the state, I'd be in a space where I'm like more accepting this couldn't be farther from the truth. Okay. Well, who knows? Maybe they'll come around. Okay. Out of respect to you and our friendship, I will quit pressing the grandma. There might be a day I talk about this, but I will say it was a horrific experience I had. I'm not going to go on tour right now. About the marbles are just that day, not about the marbles, but that day. I wasn't molested. I just want to put that out there. That's really what it felt like you were important. It's not that that everything you were saying was pointed to them all. She did not touch me. I never said she did. Maybe someone in that nurse no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Okay. That's, that's what I was like. I don't think I'd I'm back. That's a lot talking, talking about the encyclopedia sale really brought a lot out of me. Thanks wound liquor. That anger and lust for violence is now long, is no longer buried deep in my psyche. Now it's at the forefront of my consciousness and the rage is consumed me. My greatest desire to seek vengeance on behalf of my ancestor Ivan, I believe it's my duty to continue his legacy. The focus of my hatred has a name and it's under one. The cop who caught my great-grandfather is long dead, of course, but his descendants still live in this area. In fact, his great-grandson is an attorney right here in my hometown. I know where he lives and I can get inside. The fire burning within me cannot be diminished. I will have my revenge. Imagine being such a fucking loser that you're murder grandpa. You feel upset that you're fucking loser. Piece of shit, grandpa got beat up. So all of a sudden you have to kill somebody else like a generation after a good law abiding detective took down your fucking sociopathic grandpa. And now you're like I'm, you know, I can't. I have to kill him. What a fucking loser. Charles is cool. But to be fair, that's just one of the many pages in the Encyclopedia seal. That's why there's many pages to the Encyclopedia. As you can imagine, both Fatima and I were left shocked and deeply disturbed by Charlie's final sign-off. If we took his words of face valued, we'd have to assume that Charlie would commit a murder in the near future. So what did we do with this information? Suppose the correct course of action would have been to contact the police and yet we didn't do so. When we discussed his post, we decided the murder threat was likely a hoax or that he wouldn't go through with it. Teeth down. No, I think we both knew this was a lie. I can't speak for Fatima but I didn't report the murder plot because I wanted to see what would happen. Never did hear from Charlie again, but I was able to piece together the rest of the story through court documents and news reports. On the 23rd of March of this year, 32-year-old locksmith named Charles Robinson illegally gained access to a private residence in Kansas City. In his subsequent confession to detectives, Mr. Robinson admitted to breaking into the home with the intention of ambushing and murdering the owner, the well-known defense attorney Caleb Underwood. The accused believed the home would be empty at the time but was confronted by Mr. Underwood's maid, 25-year-old Isabella Rodriguez. A struggle ensued which ended in a brutal murder. Robinson stabbed his victim 13 times in a frenzy attack killing her in the master bedroom. The accused expressed remorse over the murder of Mr. Rodriguez but decided to follow through on his original plan, moving the maid's corpse to the bathroom before waiting for his target to come home. Detectives investigating the case have praised the bravery of Mr. Underwood, who is able to overpower, disarm and subdue the suspect until the police arrived. Mr. Robinson has been charged with murder and attempted murder and has been denied bail. It's noted that he is a distant relative of Ivan Robinson. The infamous serial killer who committed 11 murders across three states during the 1920s was executed by the electric chair in 1932. This was the news report from the time and I don't mind telling you that the account shocked me to my very core. Charlie had played out his violent fantasies and carry downs. his great-grandfather's bloody legacy, but he badly botched his murder plot, slaughtering an innocent woman before getting himself caught. Charlie might as well have been executed, like his ancestor, but he never made it to trial. The last report I read confirmed that Charles Robinson was found dead in his jail cell in the morning of April 14th, the authorities claim he'd taken his own life, but I'm not so sure. In any event, one of my contacts was dead, and I still needed to have the answers, and I still didn't have the answers I needed. Suppose I should have felt disgusted over the whole affair, but in truth, I was frustrated to have hit another brick wall. Now my only hope was Fatima, and she was able to bring another piece to the puzzle. So let me tell you this young woman's story in her own words. Fatima's tale. "There's not much to say about me." "Can I read this one?" "Fatima's tale." "There's not much to say about me." "Sure I could recount my childhood in a minute detail, but what would the point of that?" "Well, what would be the point of that?" I will say that my parents divorced when I was still young during my adolescence. I turned my back on my father's faith. We fell out over this disagreement, and we haven't spoken in years. The truth is, I never had much time for religion. "I haven't had much time for religion." Do you just like pray for your to bed? Are you talking about it? I couldn't make Sunday's work, neither big man, I have a tumultuous relationship. I didn't have time to believe in something, I didn't have time. Too much mental, fuzz, good to do it. During my student days, I was a committed atheist, hell yeah, filled with a useful arrogance and anger against the establishment. I'm sorry Isaiah, he read, he read, committed atheist and under his breast said, hell yeah. Filled with a useful arrogance and anger against the establishment, and later life, I became much more conformist, although I never considered myself a spiritual person. I suppose I had a decent relationship with my mum, we saw each other regularly, and I continued to visit my mother until her sudden passing from a stroke. I grieved the loss, but honestly, we were never the close. I had one serious boyfriend after university, we lived together for about five years, but gradually grew apart. I remember the day he broke up with me, saying I'd become cold and distant, I didn't argue and let him go. A big part of me was relieved, God she sounds great. Hey, so you're kind of a YouTube bitch and you're kind of distant and cold. Be away. She didn't have time to believe, I don't have time to believe in this relationship. A lot of stuff going on, I weren't going to pair to express, working pair to express in London, pretty busy. I used to be bothered by things like this, it could serve me that I couldn't maintain relationship and I had no close friends. I am amazed that you remember she was from London. She said, mum, yeah, but just the fact to specifically London, that was, wow, I'm impressed. Right here, bear trap, this is a, this is a fucking fortress of solitude, Superman hides in here. We, we should get you drunk to read women's accounts and stories more often. I, it isn't full swing right now. I reckon there must be something wrong with me and I did seek professional help in my late 20s, but multiple psychiatrists couldn't provide the answers I needed, aka I didn't want to listen. You should probably work in yourself. I have no time. She's definitely kind of a person that's just like, she was waiting for someone to be like, you're perfect. Yeah. You don't change a thing. Yeah. Yeah. Thank you, psychiatrist. That's perfect. The absence of meaning, which also if I'm paying somebody, just fucking tell me one on here. Let me just give me the stats. Yeah. And the absence of meaningful human interaction, I threw myself into my career. I was always good with numbers and so I pursued this line of work, taking a job as a financial analyst and for college and working my way up to the core, working my way with the corporate ladder. I worked long hours and made good money by any measure. My career has been a great success, but guess what guys? I was still not satisfied. You both know the feeling all too well to feel like a stranger in your own life. And then the salesman came to my door, my into, oh, there we go. Crazy. He remembered more about the story of five long Island cities and he hasn't stumbled once. I know. I was thinking the same thing. I didn't want to jinx it. But he, he, he's in a flow state right now. Like, he's doing it. He's doing it. He's doing it. That's all I ask. Just clock him. And then the salesman came to my door, my introductions to this mysterious stranger were much the same as yours. Oh, is that, yeah, I'm sure we're thinking the same thing. My introductions to this mysterious stranger were much the same as yours. Oh, I bet he's creepy and old. I was highly suspicious by let him into my home. My guess, I was, or I guess, I was still apprehensive up to the point he took the book out of his briefcase and started to read. For that point onwards, I was transfixed and hanging on his every word. He told me several tales of the unexplained and paranormal, speaking of a red phone box that can communicate with the afterlife, a cursed model village with, which consumed its creator, an apparel universe which has become resting place for countless lost ships and planes. Fuck. Okay. Normally you, I'm the one who gets mad about references to other stories. Now, so I have a reference to, I don't think that these are references to the other stories. Yeah, there are. Those are references to his other stories. Yeah. I saw something called the red box in his, yeah. But it doesn't matter. Just keep reading. Just keep reading. Yeah. There's February 24th. You're going to break him. He posted a story called the red phone box. Yeah. You read the first two lines. Okay. Though, those of a certain age who grew up in the UK will remember the old-style red phone boxes and blazing with the royal crown with the motif telephone written about their glass paneled swing doors. In fact, you've probably seen photographs of these booths which are regarded as quintessentially British, acting as tourist attraction blunt in elsewhere. Those are the first two sentences. I'm not, I don't go in for such fantastical stories and conspiracies throughout my life of considering myself an educated and logical woman who had no time for the superstitions of the past. And at the salesman's power for words struck a chord with me. Like I said, he's like I looked at and he said, "Ghost." I should've. Whoa. He's saying, "What? Red box in a ghost." Well, maybe I am a little more superstitious. You know, it's a great line actually. What? It's a Michael Scott office line here. So I'm not superstitious, but I'm a little stitious. It's a great line. And yet the salesman's power for words struck a chord with me and I felt like he'd reach something deep inside of me, waking emotions I had long since buried and this was before he revealed my true identity. But my connection to the past wasn't as direct as it was for Charlie. The dark tragedy in my family's history did not occur within living memory. Instead, the salesman took me back to the 17th century where I long forgotten and sister my mother's side suffered a grave injustice. She had a high percent was a witch. My sister's name was Mary Clayburn. She was minister's wife and young mother of two. Mary lived in Norwich, Norfolk County during the 1640s and her short life was not a happy one. Her husband was a Puritan. A real fire and Brimstone type who didn't believe in sparing the rod when it came to disciplining his children or his wife for that matter. The way the salesman's, the way the salesman vividly described the violence and abuse, it was like nothing I've ever experienced before. I couldn't let the Charlie's account because I felt the immense power of the salesman's words as he read from the encyclopedia and somehow is transported back in time. Experience my ancestor's torment is if they were happening to me, I've never forgot the terror of being in that isolated rural cottage facing the cold nights under candlelight as I fought to protect the young children. Son and daughter from the uncontrollable rage of the minister, it was particularly chilling to realize there was nobody I could call. No one I could turn to for help. I was on my own against the monster, but my ancestor Mary was not entirely helpless. Many of the powers you see, the type of powers I would have previously dismissed is nonsense, but now I know that magic is very real does a good call does a good call you doing good. I'm proud of you Lord help me Mary was able to do extraordinary things communicate with animals, read people's thoughts. So she's going back in time, she's talking to squirrels and she's reading people's thoughts. What the fuck are people even thinking back then, bread? I'd love a size of bread right about now or gold. Yeah, that's all they were thinking of maybe and make objects move without touching them. She had telekinesis, that's pretty good. She was professor and she's like, she got and she got a wheelchair with eggs on the wheels and she would find anyone in the world of the helmet. It's like ancient periods and times in the semester is like, I think my wife so much. And behind him she has like the cerebral helmet on, she's floating around, I think she's so much. Can't you get blades out of your knuckles? Get down from there Marry was able to do extraordinary things, communicate with animals, read people's thoughts and make objects move without touching them. She used her powers in small ways but was careful to hide her actions from her husband and the wider community, knowing all too well the serious consequences if she was caught. But the minister knew something wasn't miss, and this only added to his fury. Once night he came home in a blind rage, ranting about the devil's influence and the unholy corruption of his family. He charged with the stairs, his face read as a grasped hold of his wooden cane. Marry, I will say, the minister is completely right. He's like, I think the devil has influenced over this family, he's put a dark magic on the house. He's floating stuff around and talking to animals. If it was 1640, I saw my wife talking to squirrels, reading people's minds and moving fucking objects with her hands. I'd be grabbing the cane too. I mean, it's like this, this girl's a devil, you gotta do something. Marry confirmed her husband at the top of the staircase but was violently shoved out of the way as her husband made for the children's bedroom. I was in my ancestor's body in that moment, experienced her acute pain, fear, and anger. I channeled those emotions using my powers in an act of violent retribution without moving from the floor and at least a surge of energy, a righteous invisible force which threw the minister back down the stairs. I may, I may, I may, I may have, that's what she just did, that's her ex in the chair. Oh, man, do you think she had one of those, it's weird sometimes when she's bald. She has, she has the wheelchair. No, no, no, does she have the, the seat that old people wear when they can't walk up the steps and they have a corn stair lift? Is she charging it up as it's going up the stairs? Daddy, I want to leave, Mommy's scary me, I'm going to try to leave soon. Yeah, she brings back, she just has an acorn chair lift and he's like, what is this? What is this magic? This is Mary's action, but we were as one in that moment. I was in control and I felt such power. I enjoyed seeing the shock and terror in the, this is like also the most, could this not be more of an astrology girl story? What's that, what's that bumper sticker they have? Were the daughters of that too, but were the daughters of the witches you tried to kill, try to burn something like that. I see that a lot. That's a real thing that, yeah, it has, yeah, so it'll have like the, like a wicking triangle or something and it'll have like the pentagram or whatever. It's like, were the daughters of the witches you tried to burn? I enjoyed seeing the shock and terror in the minister's eyes as he tumbled down the stairs, savoring every crack and cry of pain before he hit the bottom. His neck breaking as he collided with the hard floor. I looked down at his dead eyes and felt no remorse, only a grim satisfaction that the monster's life hadn't was, like what it was ended. Well, then I turned my head and saw Mary's young children standing in the doorway. Their teary, shocked filled eyes looking up at the violent scene and disbelief. The salesman dispassionately continued his reading and confirmed Mary Claiborne's face. On the 12th of September 1645, my ancestor was sentenced to the death of Norwich crown court after being convicted of murder in witchcraft. She was re-burned at the stake, given what I now knew about Mary's life. All she's been sent, she suffered, whatever. I was naturally outraged at the sentence passed down against her, but there was more. I call both of these things are also just like a person did commit a crime. They did do the thing they were accused of, yeah, but yet she was using, she was using black magic and witchcraft to kill her husband who, Grana might have been a jerk from the description and like an abusive husband, all that, but he was completely right that there was a demonic influence in the house. And the guy before murdered 11 people and he's like, what's that cop doing getting him in trouble? Don't you just skirt this by being like, I don't have powers and he's saying I'm a witch and I'm not a witch. But then it just makes him look like he's justified when it's like, but by the way, I was talking to score. I think the implication here isn't that these people have like a righteous anger in the past. It's that they've inherited the same evil. That's the reason Fatima had an aversion to religion her whole life because she has the same evil want for demonic presence and stuff that her, the witch had just like the guy before before he even killed anyone said he liked being in people's homes and the access that granted him. That's that same evil passed down from his great-grandfather. That's true, it's really good how they wrote that. Through the salesman words, I was once again transferred back into the day of the trial. There I was in Mary's body, terrified as a bang mob called out for my blood. The magistrate restored some degree of order by loudly banging his gavel. But he soon launched into a furious tyrant in which he described Mary as a whore at witch in the service of Satan before gleefully sentencing her to burn. I remember the pure hatred of malice in the magistrate's dark eyes as he looked up upon me with utter contempt. His hateful glare chilled me to my bones and made me question who was really in league with the devil. The one doing witchcraft, but that's the final memory was of course the worst as I was pulled back into the night of Mary's execution. Once again, I would possess my ancestral form as I was tightly tied to the post with a pile of fire were below me. My whole body shook as I fought against my binds and cried out from mercy. But I would get none from the hateful mob of Puritans assembled before the pyre. Their eyes full of righteous anger as they wielded pitchforks and torches and called me every vile name under the sun. A minister spoke some words before the whore began, I can't recall the exact text, but believe he finished on the phrase may God have mercy on your soul. Yeah, what really I've never heard words that or words that affect and then three men step forward and set the pyre a light. I cried out louder this time about his sweating and eyes burning as I watched the flames quickly spread. I felt the heat of the fire starting with a burning of my toes and feet, but soon growing more intense as the flames shot at the stake and engulfed me, melting my skin and flesh in a horrifying inferno. I know that this atrocity happened to my ancestor and not me, but in that memory I could feel her agony and it was the most intense pain I'd ever suffered. And before I blocked out, I saw the magistrate in the crowd watching Mary's fiery death at twisted smile etched across his face and he took a perverse pleasure from her suffering. This was when the salesman brought me back to the present day and as you probably guessed, he left my home without elaborating on why he told me this gruesome and tragic tale. But there was one more detail I revealed before leaving me. I thought it was irrelevant at the time and its significance only became apparent after I heard Charlie's story because you see the magistrates who sent his Mary Claiborne was called Underwood. Bum, bum, bum, oh fuck, I'm cooking with gas. That's what the author was saying. As you can imagine, the revelation has caused me many sleepless nights, countless. All confessed to having a similar experience to Charlie as I became obsessed with the world, words and visions of the salesman had shared with me to the point where every other part of my life was neglected. I took a leave of absence for my job and spent every waking hour pursuing the mystery. I could find no direct connection between Caleb Underwood and Kansas City at the Norfolk Magistrate who burnt my ancestor at the stake. I have been able to trace the lineage of the Magistrate underwood, however, his astrocratic family as a prominent one in English society and one of his descendants is now a UK government minister. It doesn't sound crazy, particularly after what happened to Charlie, but I too have become obsessed with the desire for revenge against Underwood. I've tried to tell myself that it's madness, I need to let it go, but I can't do this. I also realized the risks are great, but I am not powerless. I see now that my ancestors blood runs through my veins and I have herred to her great power. I've been practicing over the last number of weeks and have honed my natural born skills. You've got a sentence left. Learning the ways my ancestors as I plot my revenge, I can. I can do this. I needed this for Mary. The Encyclopedia salesman brings them accounts from their life and they have this like D.P. She said that she didn't inherit it. The salesman looks like he just comes up, tells you a story. He's like, you want to re-gibble goblet's forest or do you want to re-kindle land land? They're like, I don't know either of those. All right. We'll tell you about your past. What? Well, remember with our main character, he said you're not ready for it yet. He's like, we'll look and find these other two people. These other two people were given the story of their past and it like unlocks like, oh, that's the thing that's wrong with me. I have this deep-seated generational evil that I'm now going to act on. Right. So, that being unlawed for them drove them both to madness to seek revenge against the people, the ancestors of the people who wronged them in the past, right? It's almost like a reincarnation thing. But they haven't ever done anything. Charlie didn't even get, if he just knew that it was underwood and then Fat Albert was like, I googled the guy and he's a UK government minister or ministry thing. I think the implication is she's going to kill him. There's two people that are going to murder someone, I see. Yeah. Yeah. It's unlocking that same evil that has to be carried out later. So, the encyclopedia salesman basically unlocks this like torment that exists within you like this generational evil, it makes you act on it. I like that. Okay. That's what someone would hypothetically do. that's cool okay that makes sense that that was the last communication I received from Fatima and sadly you can probably guess what happened next I didn't need to go searching for news this time because the story had received international coverage on the 15th of May UK Education Minister Thomas Underwood was attacked and seriously wounded during a public appearance outside a secondary school in South London I didn't see he pleaded guilty but it was to the federal charge yeah so the federal charge was the stalking one so where the murder was in New York state yeah and he didn't travel state lines to my understanding to do it it is a New York state case the actual murder so he pleaded guilty to the federal charge it's now up to the state of New York to prosecute him for the murder but now what the the defense teams trying to do is get him on double jeopardy to say that these overlap which that's not how double jeopardy works but it's like well we can get New York to drop the case you won't be tried for murder is the idea so pleading on federally for the lesser charge basically he faces oh so he's gonna get life in prison for this though for the stalking charge that's what says here those are on reading yeah you can't get life for stalking there's no way Luigi Mangeon pleaded guilty in federal court to stalking resulting in the death of United Health care CEO Brian Thompson he faces a maximum sentence of life in prison with federals in Zings scheduled for December 18th twenty-six that seems to be complete he killed a rich guy so he's got well I know for the murder but I feel like the stalking charge I mean he faces life or potentially death penalty I think New York still has that they just never go for it he looked at it he looked at a rich guy wrongly well can't do that do we think I'm not throwing my sticks one way or the other but I feel like he did a bit more than look at the assailant has been identified as 31 year-old Fatima Abraham a finance worker from the city with no previous criminal convictions witness his say Miss Abraham approached the ministers he was greeting press and members of the public she was somehow able to slip past underwood security team and stab him with a knife concealed under her sleeve mr. Underwood was wounded but not incapacitated managing to fight off his attacker and throw her down to the pavement it is funny how similar this is to the jack story that through no fault of the underwood zone they have been building a super soldier to come kill them to to miss Abraham then picked up her weapon and launched a second attack despite warnings from police officers on scene she was subsequently shot by playing close detective officers attempted to perform CPR on the assailant but she died at the scene meanwhile Mr. Underwood was rushed to the hospital where doctors performed surgery upon a deep stab wounded his right shoulder a government spokesman has since confirmed that the minister's injuries are not life threatening and he's expected to make a full recovery Metropolitan police have stated that Miss Abraham has no history of violence no no links to any extremist or tears groups the skin officers are currently looking for a motive I deleted all my messages from Fatima after reading about her botched attack by this point I was in a state of disbelief the salesman had provided me with two names and now they were both dead both having attempted to murder men called underwood that the name did resonate with me but as hard as I racked my brains I couldn't remember where or when I'd first heard it through myself in a frantic research and did find many important public and private individuals called underwood men and women in politics the media finance and so forth these underwoods were seemingly unconnected and spread throughout the English speaking world and there were many other variants of the surname and various different languages still there was no common thread that I could identify it's no exaggeration to say I was driven to the edge of insanity by this seemingly unsolvable mystery I cannot sleep at night because every time I close my eyes I saw the salesman's grinning face Charlie hanging in his jail cell and Fatima bleeding to death on the street I just couldn't understand why this was all happening what the hell it had to do with me it was durian one of these sleepless nights is that game picked up on the mic hey set the mood it was during one of those sleepless nights when the salesman returned I was line fully closed on my bed staring up at the dark ceiling exhausted but unable to sleep the clock had just turned to 3 a.m. and that's when I heard a familiar loud knocking on my front door I instantly shot up for my mattress all my senses hide in as a surge of adrenaline shot through my veins I practically ran to the front door sparing no thought for my personal safety as I opened it came face-to-face with the shadowy figure standing on my doorstep his face was illuminated by my porch light but even so it took a moment for me to recognize him it was the salesman of course the apparently paranormal entity who went by the name of mr. Black but he looked different from the last time I'd seen him gone was the spark in his eyes and his wide grin and disappeared instead the poor man looked as if he'd been dragged to hell and back was practically on the brink of death I stood in the doorway my jaw dropping in shock as I found myself lost for words in the end it was the salesman who broke the silence speaking to me in a deep and raspy voice good evening sir I apologize for the late hour of my visit may I come in I paused for only a second before replying enthusiastically yes of course I made way for the elderly visitor watching with some degree of sympathy as he struggled down the corridor whilst relying on his walking stick to keep him steady it seemed that his physical condition had deteriorated in the months since his last visit but my primary interest was the familiar briefcase he carried in his left hand because I knew what it contained the knowledge I desired most in the world I followed him into my living room turning on the lights as I impatiently watched the salesman struggle over to his seat I was frustrated that he didn't open his case and pull out the encyclopedia instead he simply stared at me with his bloodshot eyes there was another tense pause before you spoke and I sensed a sadness in his words when he did so so you tracked down Charles and Fatima I did what's my brief reply and you know what happened to them I do so there's a question you want to ask me there is who the hell is underwood the salesman appeared deep in thought for a moment breaking eye contact it's he slowly nodded his head hmm underwood yes my employer has used this name for some time trailed off without offering a further explanation but there are hundreds of underwood I exclaimed in frustration the name goes up again and again throw a history but there's no connection no connection you can find you think of these underwoods as individuals but an actual fact they're all vessels of my employer all are on one all are one and the same be in the magistrate the detective the attorney the government minister and of course your father done done those last two words hit me like a ton of bricks I was shocked of course but also filled with an excitement I can hardly describe as the truth was finally revealed to me my father how was that possible oh it's possible I noticed how he took little to no pleasure in revealing this information to me in fact he almost seemed guilty as he struggled to meet my gaze your mother no doubt had to reasons for keeping the truth from you but my employer's blood runs through your veins your heritage brings great power with it but also considerable expectations what do you mean I was quickly growing tired of the salesman to cryptic answers I noted how his tone darkened before he continued my employer's were tirelessly throughout the centuries to shape the history of humanity during this time he what he has attempted to recruit many mortals to his cause but the result has been disappointing take mr. Robinson and Mrs. Abraham as two examples we had high hopes for both but alas they both came up wanting what the hell is that mean your friends were tested and they failed my employer expressed you to do much better you were in the flesh of blood after all was you want me to do the salesman shot me a half grin for a moment I thought I could see some of the spark come back into his sunken eyes he didn't answer my question not directly anyway instead he changed the subject and asked a question of his own you look on well sir have you been sleeping I was baffled and irritated struggling to find the words to reply no of course I haven't he said thoughtfully as he carefully reached into his briefcase I yearned to see the encyclopedia merge but instead he surprised me by pulling out what looked like a business card I looked on in confusion as the salesman set up from his chair and struggle across the room towards me with the card in hand you really should see a doctor sir you can't take your health or grounded not when there's so much important work ahead of us with that you carefully place the business card on the coffee table and front of me before heading towards the door I looked over at him and was tempted to shout out but instead I glanced down at the card on the table and then I understood because the text read dr. Mark Underwood in MD, family physician, opened a new patient. I heard my front door slam shut as the salesman walked out into the night, but now it no longer mattered. I knew what had to be done, and it was up to me to prepare for the grizzly task to come. I didn't waste any time in planning my next move. After obtaining all the information, after obtaining all the information I could on my target, I destroyed my electronic devices, dawn gloves, scarf, baseball cap, and armed myself with a 38 revolver and stiletto dagger. This would have been a 10 out of 10 story if the author revealed his name was Mark David Chapman and he was going to kill John Lennon. That would have been an excellent turn of events, I feel. So I'm confused here because the other two had ancestors that were condemned by an underwood, right? He just finds out his dad's underwood, and he's like, oh, so I got to kill him, right? That's kind of the idea. I get that through the centuries, an underwood has employed a Mr. Black to kind of like, do their bidding and bring these things about, but I don't know what the objective is. But, so now why don't we have his son kill his dad? But he doesn't have any revelation or anything that makes him want to kill his dad. That's true, but the other two at least had premonitions before they decided to kill. Because you see, it wasn't my intention to confront this doctor underwood and demand answers, my plan was to kill him. People reading this confession might be confused by the sudden and dramatic escalation in my actions. After all, I am a man with no previous criminal history or inclination towards violence. I had no reason to hate Dr. Mark Underwood or wish him harm. The salesman had informed me that a man called Underwood was my father and I believed him. This Dr. Underwood was the same age as me, and so could it possibly be my parent, okay. I mean, that doesn't make sense to kill him yet, but not his dad. None of that mattered, however. It seemed that all these Underwoods were one and the same, vessels for greater unseen power. All the pieces were in front of me now, and I finally understood what was required of me. Charlie and Fatima had both failed in their missions. They'd both come from a place of anger, seeking vengeance against those who'd wronged their ancestors. But I was going into this with a clear head, and I felt no moral qualms about ending the vessel's existence. I would kill him and fulfill my destiny. I arrived at the address on the card, which was located off a busy commercial street, and I slowly walked along the pavement with my head down and the cap covering my face as I tried to avoid attention and conceal my identity for many CCTV cameras. My weapons were hidden in my jacket pockets. The gun was my primary and the dagger my backup, but I wouldn't draw my revolver until the last possible moment. I arrived at the front entrance of the surgery, pausing as I read the motif name printed on the glass door and confirmed I had the right address. I purposefully arrived at lunchtime when the surgery would be closed and near empty. I therefore expected the door to be locked and so was surprised to find it left open. It all seemed a little too easy, and I'll admit to feeling a ping of apprehension in that moment. But the soon passed, as I carefully pushed open the door with my glove-tan. I entered the reception area and found it abandoned. Even the front desk was unattended, as presumably the receptionist was out for lunch, so far so good, I thought. Next, I walked behind the reception and soon found Dr. Underwood's surgery, discovering the door wide open. I hesitated for a time as I cast my eyes upon my target, watching him as he typed on his keyboard and remained engrossed in his work. Underwood was a handsome man, neat and well turned out, but surprisingly unremarkable. There was nothing to mark him out as a paranormal entity or indeed anything other than a dedicated family physician. I had serious doubts in that late moment, fearing I'd made a terrible mistake, and I stood frozen within decision in the doorway. My hand on the butt of my gun, as I desperately tried to decide what to do next. It didn't take long for the doctor to notice me. Must have since my presence or spotted the shadow I cast, because he called out to me without looking up from his computer screen. "I'm afraid the surgery's closed, please come back later." I didn't answer. Instead, slowly removing the gun from my jacket pocket. He tutted it in an oyaance, turning his head away from his monitor, but once he saw me, Dr. Underwood's eyes lit up with recognition, even though I'd never met him before. "Ah, it's you! I was wondering when you'd turn up." He frowned when he saw the gun in my hand, now shaking. "So that's how you want to plan to do it." He asked more with curiosity than concern. "Well sir, let's get on with it then." With that, he surprised me by leaping up from his chair and physically jumping on top of his desk. He crashed on all fours. His eyes filled with a predatory zeal as he hissed like an angry cat, and showed me his concerningly sharp teeth. Huh? "I don't know." Whatever. I was frozen in shock, reacting too slowly as I raised my gun and aimed. A split second later, the doctor turned monster, launch-hims. "Whoa, launch-himself off the desk and leapt towards me, with his eyes wide and fangs exposed. I screamed in terror, firing a single shot which missed the target. Underwood hit me like a freight train a second later, pushing me out of the room and pinning my body to the carpet while the gun was simultaneously knocked out of my hand. He was on top of me now, saliva dripping from his fang-filled moths, he held me down firmly. "Come on my boy." "All right here, I drew that again." "Come on my boy. Is that all you can, monster?" The green goblin voice is fitting, I think. "That's why it feels like a default character." With that, he wrapped his hands around my throat and started to squeeze. I couldn't breathe as he slowly strangled me, and I gasped for air as my eyes bulged. I must have been close to blacking out, but I was determined not to die like this. Digging deep into my reserves, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the dagger, thrusting it deep into my attacker's thigh. He cried out in pain and loosened his grip upon my throat. It gave me an opportunity, and I kicked out with all my strength, forcing Underwood off me. He staggered his blood poured from the wound in his leg, but Underwood was far from beaten. I went for him again with the dagger, but he easily dodged the attack, punching me hard on the nose and throwing me back into the office. I pulled myself up from the floor and turned, just as Underwood launched a new attack. I held out the knife, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted hard, forcing me to drop the blade. I barely had time to recover before he hit me again and shoved me back down to the ground. Stunned and terrified, I washed his Underwood calmly walked over to where the knife had fallen, stooping over to pick it up. Very, very disappointing. I expected so much more from you, my son. That certainly struck a nerve, and I knew it was now or never. I scanned the floor, catching inside of my silver revolver, only inches from where I lay. Underwood was now advancing upon me, knife in hand as he prepared to finish the job. I darted across the floor, grabbing hold of the gun, and rolling over before I lifted the weapon and aimed. Underwood was right on top of me, but this time I had the drop on him. I squeezed the trigger, firing one, two, and then three shots. Underwood was struck three times in the chest, barely reacted at first, looking down in surprise of the blood leaking from the bullet wounds, seeping through his previously white shirt. He looked at me in his last moment, managing a half-smile, as he said. Well played, sir. I did. You just get shot in the chest. Well played, sir. A gentleman's game, do materializes of the world. I catch you when this rounds, so I say, I want to play this, huh? Oh my god, I have my cat thing, so I can just get shot in the chest and be done with this. In real life, a very funny thing to say when you're shot. [laughter] Well played, sir. What? Fuck it, luck's filling with blood. We're here to play. One of the funniest last words ever, there's this dude. He was some rider or something, but he was dying in a hospital, and his condition was bad, and a nurse walked into the room, and he was setting upright in his bed, and the nurse goes, "Oh, you're looking better today," and he goes, "On the contrary." And dies. [laughter] Really? Yeah. [laughter] On the contrary. On the contrary. [laughter] That's good. [laughter] And with that, he dropped heavily to the floor and didn't get back up again. I continued to hold the smoking gun in my shaking hand, hardly believing what I just done. Suddenly, I became aware of a new figure standing in the doorway. I spanned around, and aimed by hell my fire once I recognized a familiar face. It was the salesman, his trusty briefcase in hand, and his sunken eyes emotionless as he looked over the dead underwood, before turning his attention towards me. Congratulations, sir. You have succeeded where so many others have failed. I believe it's high time that you met my employer. I was still trying to work out what he met when I suddenly became lightheaded, my eyes slowly closed and as the darkness took me. I woke in a strange and frightening place, experiencing a stifling heat as I pulled myself up from a rocky surface and adjusted my eyes to my new surroundings. Is this hell? See, go straight to hell. It's crazy. And explikably, I had been transported to a dark and foreign realm, finding myself inside what looked like a great hall, car from rock, and dimly illuminated by burning torches. I slowly and cautiously walked upon my shaking legs, scanning the hall and fearful all, all, awe, whilst noting the high ceiling above my head. The light from the wall mounted torches allowed me to see the guards lined up on either side of a long walkway, which cut down the middle of the hall. These soldiers looked like men, although I suspected they weren't of the mortal realm. They all wore bronze armor and helmets like those of a Roman centurion, and each was armed with a long spear and round shield. The guards stood in tight formation, not moving the muscles I sheepishly walked past them, although I noticed how their dark, menacing eyes closely followed my progress. I continued walking towards the front of the hall, which was dominated by a great throne of Cold Iron, and upon its head a giant wearing black robes, bald-headed, but with a crown of thorns placed on top of his huge skull. It's as Jesus, crowned, re-blind, I don't think so, but the crown of thorns imagery is. Again, he took the appearance of a man but must have been at least eight foot tall and was well built to boot, but his bulging muscles visible underneath his robes. He was eating when I approached him, greedily devouring a large slab of red meat on the bone. The blood pouring down his chin while he washed his meal down, taking large gulps from a substantial golden tinkered filled with god knows what. He finished eating, and look, it's two in the morning right now. If a hundred and I were in a different state of mind, this would be like, uh, what's going on? Freak out or whatever. I mean, I have so many things. I just don't want to be negative. Go ahead. I never said I'd be negative. Is it even constructive? I mean, I don't care. Do you think I care? Now, look, under different circumstances, this going from, like, it's like lapidia cells when Dr. death, whatever, like, showing up and then generational torment. And now he is in hell talking to the devil and not just like the devil, like, the devil. The devil from the, um, who's the guy that did Old Town Road? Lil Nas X music video. This is a devil from that video mussels in all with the robot, like every stereotype and saber tooth. Willem Defoe. Like, there's a lot, just three times, there's a lot of stuff where we, where it's late and we've just been reading through this and we're like, yeah, well, digesting the story and then, and then the green goblin shows up with demon teeth and get shot to death. And now he is in hell with the devil who the under, who underwood was apparently a vessel for the devil throughout history, I guess, and you can just shoot him in the chest and the devil when he dies goes well played, sir, finished eating and thoughtlessly tossed the bone onto the ground. I watched as a ragged man in chains scurried across the floor and scooped up the discarded bone, while a second figure, a woman, refilled the giant's tinkered without comment. Both appeared to have the statues of slaves in this hellish realm, the status of slaves in this hellish realm, they soon, meekly, disappeared in the shadows and that's obviously Charles and Fatima and blah blah blah. A fourth figure was also present, a small man who carried behind the throne and would not meet my eye. It was only when I got closer that I recognized this meek individual. It was the salesman. His head bowed as he maintained a tight grip on his book of red leather, fabled in Cyclopedia, which was the source of his power and knowledge. The salesman was obviously submissive to the giant set upon the throne, and so I focused my attention upon him. The giant zombie approach, his cold eyes of icy blue, lighting up an anticipation as he formed his still bloody lips into a crude smile. "Ah, here he is," he announced in a booming voice which I go throughout the hall. "Here's the man of the hour, my own flesh and blood, come to clean his rightful place by my side." Instead of the foot of the mighty throne looking up in Oz, I struggled to find the words to respond. "Who? What are you?" First thing you say to the bed devil. The giant bellowed laughter before answering. "Come now, you are a zombie young man, and so can surely guess my identity." "I've been trying so hard not to crash out." "In truth, I go by many names." "This is the capital D devil." "So he has to kill the devil in the real world to be the prince of hell, and all that takes to kill the devil is to shoot him." So hold on, this girl had witchcraft and she tried to kill the devil with witchcraft. That last word hung in the air and the chilling implications made me feel sick to the stomach. What in the hell had I got myself into? Was this the destiny I had stopped for so long? What the hell? Ha, ha, ha. "What do you want from me?" The demon's sadistic grin widened before he replied, "I want you to be the man you were born to be. You have passed your first test, but there is still so much work to be done. Bring me the book." So there is very few, okay, you're going to take a story and you're going to take something as like ancient and old and concept as the devil, right? And it's not even from like an oh I'm Christian doing talk about it. You can talk about the devil. That's fine. You can do demonic works. The exorcist, right? Very terrifying way to portray devil and demons and stuff like that. No problem with depicting it. The problem is any time you try to depict it like this, it's so lame. It's like this big guy on a throne who like's chortling to himself and drinking from his head. That's the father of sin. That's the father of malice and contempt. My boy. Yeah, that. What you're looking at right now is the face of discord. The face of malice literally it's on the devil. How how how it's so lame. It's so dumb to be like, what if the monster of all evil like the birth of wrong and the the darkness to every part of light? What if that was like this really tall muscley dude in a chair? He just hurt one strike and goes over to his iPod and scroll through it spotify. Rolls like him plays if I don't want you, then I don't need to start playing beautiful people where the man said, hey, yeah, what do you say? This is what the devil likes. I'm your papa. It's just so lame. I was I was being so good for so long, but this this is literally this is Loki. We've been recording for three hours. What do you mean we said so almost two and a half? Since we got back, there's no total, yeah, yeah, is this the, be honest, Isaiah, is this the worst night of your life going from ice cream man into encyclopedia sales? No, because I'm with friends and we're having a good time with it and it's for content and a job I'm blessed to do. As far as the media, I've consumed probably, probably, I can't think of something that really compares it. I remember I remember when I started dating Kayla, I watched good fellas and there will be blood back to back in the night and this is cosmic penance for that. I was being so good. I said you can crash out and I'll hold onto this story and I'm like, you know what? Not for me, but you know, the encyclopedia stuff, people learn about old history and stuff like that. I will endure, I will survive. And now it's like, what if the devil was a muscular guy in a chair and that's the stupidest way you can do the devil with a story that had nothing to do with the devil up until now? You know, I wanted to do earlier. What? We let dog barking to the side of his pretty little souped up for we'll drive car my name into his little seas. I took a little bit, slugged up both headlights, slashed a hole in our four times, maybe next time. ♪ Before he chees ♪ ♪ Oh, maybe next time, he'll think ♪ ♪ Before he chees ♪ (laughing) (laughing) That's exactly what I imagined at Mottos-Welby. (laughing) Cobb-Sawden, sit down in my retro gaming corner. Play a prince and pose with me. My ever full memory card to do whatever you like with. Cut this. (laughing) Funny you should say that, son. Cobb-Sawden, play Taken the Power of Juju or my PS2. That's a cool game. (laughing) Do you like the chicken suit, son? I don't even, like-- It's so deliciously evil. It's not even medieval depictions of the devil. It's just like, what if the devil was like a comedic, like Middle Ages English king? A comedic devil is a mad, literally. That's like, what if-- I bet you're wondering where I've been. Well, like, no, welcome to Goodburg. What if the devil was Jafar? That's like where-- Jafar's kind of sexy. Come. Don't people say that? Yeah, people like Jafar. Jafar as evil red genie looks pretty crazy. That'd be good, devil. That's pretty much what this is. He clicked his fingers in the salesman, cheaply walked up to the throne, reluctantly handing over his precious encyclopedia, which his master snatched up in his huge hand. He aggressively flick through the pages while his servants slinked back into the shadows, then the demon who claimed to be my father started to read. And his spoken words transported me to another place in time so I witnessed visions of my future. Firstly, I found myself standing on a podium decorated with banners and flowers. Is he the anti-Christ? Is he the anti-Christ-- is that with this-- is this an anti-Christ origin story? I hate the spark you're doing right now. This whole story about the encyclopedia sales when people going back in time is an anti-Christ origin story. Yo, it's funny. At some point in the last 10 paragraphs, we switched the crash out. Because now he's eating it up. Yeah, now he's-- I can see it in his stupid face. He is loving this right now. I found myself standing on a podium decorated with banners and flags giving a victory speech to a fanatical crowd of cheering supporters. My supporters, a cult dedicated to serve me. Next came a vast military procession down a wide city street, which I observed from a balcony high above. Thousands of black clad troops marched in tight formation, saluting towards me as they goof stepped up on the asphalt. He might be Hitler. They were soon followed by tanks and other military hardware, while squadron of fighter jets flew above our heads. Then came a vision of a prison camp surrounded by barbed wire fences and guard towers. Inside of the cordon were thousands of emaciated-- Is this actually Hitler? No, there's not. It can't be. It has to be like the antichrist is like Hitler adjacent, like the same visuals. Inside of the cordon were thousands of emaciated, beaten down prisoners. Their eyes filled with fear and hunger. As they pleaded for mercy, they would surely not receive. It's fair to say that I was extremely disturbed by the-- Yeah, it can't be because of the fighter jets. It's monitored, yeah. It's just using Hitler for what the antichrist would look like. It's fair to say that I was extremely disturbed by the images filling my head, but it only got worse. As the demons chilling words brought me to some very dark places. I saw sitting gulf by flames, mushroom cloud towering above the ruins as millions were surely killed in a nuclear inferno. More horrific images of war and suffering followed and I realized that I was responsible for this future apocalypse. And eventually, I abandoned the devastated earth, looking down upon the planet's ravaged surface from orbit as I was blasted into the stratosphere. Finally, did you just crap your pants? What? Did you just crap your pants? No. I think you farted, but it sounded so wet. No, no. No. I wish that'd be nice. That would be so funny if you just-- The final part of this just blew your pants out. And finally, I stood within a vast dome biosphere, looking upon a red flat earth, looking upon a red lifeless desert. Those living besides me were my most fanatical and loyal supporters. These folk were dedicated to me and my vision, and here to help me build a new world, while billions were left behind to suffer and die on our doomed home planet. With that, I was returned to the hellish throne room. My body's shaking as I looked into the ruthless blue eyes of my demonic, so-called father. I was revolted and felt a fiery defiance deep in my belly, finding the courage to stand up to the monster set before me. This is horrifying! The prince of darkness, the father of evil, the prince of the air. This is scary! What do I do? I'm so scared right now. Am I the anti-Christ? Be honest. Don't lie to me. Be honest. Am I like the anti-Christ? Am I like Hitler, too? I don't have a speech, German. Spread could see Deutsche. Can we speak like Chinese or something? I can learn that. I know Samandran. The demon merely struck his shoulders before us. That depends on your perspective. I consider this a necessary barge of history. It's monstrous, and I will not be a part of it! Why did the devil shrug? Why is he smirking and shortling and shrugging? Every horrible thing that's ever happened is the cause and effect of his will on earth. And he shrugs and smirks and makes these little games where you have to shoot a doctor. I was trying so hard. It's so late at night, I was trying so hard. I flew in so early this morning. I'm so tired, it's been so long. I thought you told me. You told me. I thought I fought so hard. This is what they want. You think they don't love this? You think they don't like this? I don't think so. They like me being like this. I don't think they do. I think they do. I've seen the reddit pose. I've seen what they get out of the show. I've seen the drawings of my lips. I know exactly what these animals want. And this is close. The devil is a reddit mod. This story is called the Encyclopedia Salesman. How did we get here? Ow. Did you hit your cock? Owmy. I instantly regretted my outburst as I expected the demon to react with fury. But you know what? But instead, he retained his cool composure. His horrific grin barely faltering as he spoke his words through clinch teeth. Oh, I think you will, my child. You forgot my blood runes through your veins. Had it in truth? I know you better when you know yourself. And I know the darkness which dwells inside of you. The savagery cruelty and lust for absolute power just waiting to break out. He paused briefly to let that ominous sentence sink in. And there's another reason. The events you've witnessed, the words in this book and the events of the war to come. This will happen with or without you. And you don't want to disappoint me, my son. Failure comes with a heavy price. It clicked his fingers and two fingers emerged from the shadows behind me. It was the two slaves who had served his food and drink the man and the woman. Barely looked at them before but now I saw their terrified faces and their mad bloodshot eyes. There's a sudden spark of recognition in my exhausted brain as I thought back to the photographs on the social media accounts and news reports. The chainslays were Fatima and Charles. They had both failed the demon king and were now condemned to serve him for all eternity, trapped at the whim of his cruel sadism in this hellish realm. And I knew this would be my fate too if I refused him. I was left speechless, looking down at the rocky ground. As I couldn't prepare to see the suffering of my former companions, what companions. He talked to them something they said they were going to kill people. What, just whatever. Well. Said the demon and the more conciliters with tone. Now you know the truth, my boy. It's time for you to return to the mortal realm. Careful about what I've said and know that I'm always with you. He clicked his finger once again and I was consumed by darkness. I lost consciousness. And when I woke, I was back on the couch in my front room back where this did all begin. I've had much time to think since my extraordinary experience, but I can't find any logical explanation for what I've been through. The murder of Dr. Underwood went unsolved. The police immediately was killed during an attempted robbery gone wrong. There's no evidence of my involvement in the murder or any links discovered between Fatima Turley and me. It was like everything had been covered up by a hidden power. The only conclusion I can come to is that it's all genuine just in a stalker. Is that it's all genuine. It's not just what I've seen and heard. I could feel it deep in my bones. The darkness inside me is all too real and I can't suppress it any longer. I don't know whether the future I've seen is set in stone. Perhaps the apocalyptic war can be avoided. Maybe I can prevent it if I make different decisions or alternatively, the world could be doomed and the best I can do is to save a select for you who can start again. I guess I'll be the. I guess I'll be the Antichrist. If that's what dad wants. I love the devil. One thing's for certain, however, but chose it for this great task and I immediately change a pace. Well, maybe I can save a few people I have been chosen for a great time. One thing's for certain, however, I've been chosen for this great task and I've proven my worth and my father's eyes. The future is mine to shape and I will not fall short. I'll never tell you my name, but you will come to know me very well in the coming years. Now if you'll excuse me. I have an election to campaign for. Alright, cool, Encyclopedia Salesman by Woon Liquor. I'm going to go on a limb and I'm going to give it an award. I'm going to declare this isn't my least favorite story we've ever read. I'm putting that up on a shelf. So my current frustrations which are visible obviously are mostly because a story titled once again, the Encyclopedia, yeah, I know a story called the Encyclopedia Salesman became a story about the Antichrist who becomes the Antichrist by shooting a doctor because a witch descendant and a serial killer descendant couldn't kill a dude named Underwood, different dudes, by the way, one of them just had to kill him and they'd be the Antichrist, I guess. So that's where the Antichrist comes from, even though in the end, he was the devil's son, I guess his mom got not, got Rosemary's baby, even if he's the son, I guess the other people who were just hurt by the devil, which if that's the case in Underwood, the devil throughout history, then that means the witches that were using no, no bridge, no, they were doing medicine like in this story, witches that were using demonic power were being burnt at the stake by the devil according to this, the Underwood. So for some reason, one of those girls descendants can also be the Antichrist, but then after the devil burns through his two reserves, he's like, I'll just have my son do it, I guess. The story is the equivalent of being stuck in a grocery line or in the parking lot where the grocery store line is you're waiting your turn and the person behind you is talking to you and you have nowhere to go or in the parking lot, a guy is talking to you and you're continuously slowly trying to back away and be like, all right, well, I'll see you or whatever and the person continuously talks and there is like really nothing of substance, I really, I legitimately and I'm curious and I don't want to be a hater, but I'm very curious. I really don't know what I'm supposed to take away from this story. I really don't know what there was no enjoyable part of it for me. I don't - at the beginning where it's an old man who has an encyclopedia that tells you of your life and the idea that like there's these other people who have some dark connection that you share can be done interesting completely lost to me when it's like, yeah, it's the antichrist and you have to kill the devil and he looks like the green goblin. This is all accumulate because the guy is just like, I'm just why I just want to finish it. No, I think, I think, I think surely it was always going to be an antichrist story and then the Mr. Blacks like the demon who comes and shows some stuff. I will say, obviously despite my hangups, you, I feel like you're a little biased because it's late and because it's the third story we've read and it went on for so long. I can promise you. I do not think this is our worst story. This is not worse than happy, happy. I can promise you. I had more fun reading happy. This is not worse than happy, happy, baroska five. Oh, baroska five is infinitely better. No. No, infinitely, infinity sign, infinitely, infinitely, infinitely, infinitely, infinitely, infinitely. Or, um, what's, I probably as normal as also when I started on my best friend there, Peter, where to fly. Yeah. I think it's worse than my best friend. I think this is my new goat, dude. I think so. Not to me. Not to me. I mean, to honestly, the encyclopedia salesman being about the devil and the antichrist, I feel like it's too outlandish for me to consider it completely forgettable. The worst, the worst thing about this story is that I think it is forgettable. I think that it's, uh, I don't think that there's anything that really merits itself to ever be memorable, anything that like really lends itself to being like a fun creative thought besides the idea that it's like, well, this one's about a witch and you don't really linger with him at all in any important way. One of them's a serial killer, one of them's a witch. He shoots a guy in the chest and has like a duel with him, goes to hell, meets his dad. He gets teleported back and then he says to himself and then he says, I don't know. I feel kind of weird about it, but if you, but I'm god, I made daddy happy. Dad needs me. I'll be the antichrist and bring which is like, what is that even? What is it? What is it? I'll kill billions. Yeah. I will kill billions because dad asked me to. That's the conclusion. No, if you'll excuse me, I have a political campaign. It's also too long. You certainly a competent rider technically and I think that if you enjoy stories in this tone, there's a lot of there for you. Please enjoy it. Hunter and I, as is apparent, do not and that is okay. 8.42 out of 10 on creepypasta.com, 124 votes, 8.4 out of 10, that is a lot of people like that. If I can be so blind, I'd give it a nine. Give it a nine out. I'd probably give it a nine, but it was good. I looked at the characters and names. I appreciate that. I thought that was great. I'm going to tell you right now when I wake up tomorrow, I'm not going to remember a single thing about this, then I think we ended here. Well, that's our episode today. Thank you so much for watching Creepcast, guys. We appreciate you. Until next time, guys, I'll be steak creeped and I hope honestly, I hope that you guys have a beautiful rest of your day. Just cut it. [Music] [Music]