WBKE - Kinda/Sorta Halloween Special! AND Scary Story Time: October 2012

Hey guys, first up,  I have to apologize for being a day late in getting these posts to you. Here in New Jersey we've holed up, waiting out the rain in the dark, but all that's behind us now because I've got not only the Halloween podcast for you, but also this month's Scary Story Time! So first up, here's an hour long show filled with not only submitted stories from friends and listeners, but also filled with some of our own experiences, which you can get by:

1. CLICKING HERE

2. Going to the WBKE iTunes Store Page, or searching for us on Stitcher!

I hope you enjoy the show, guys, because of a good few reasons it's lacking Bobby, but my girlfriend Allie and I still had more than enough to say! We'd initially planned to just do a half hour, but we naturally ended up doubling that!

Now it's time for a story though. This is one of my favorites and it comes to us from, as best as I can find, just "Johnny." There's something about it's insanely simple twist that I really like. I can't quite put my finger on it. But lets just jump right in:

The Couch

Ok, disclaimer: To the very best of my knowledge, this story is true. I don't expect to convince you - truth be told, I've had a hard time coming to terms with it myself. Cliche' as it may be, I really am a rational person, and, if not for this, I would probably be the most stone-faced atheist you'd ever meet. But, after much internal struggle and debate, I have come to the conclusion that there are things in life that simply can't be explained with reason, at least in the form in which we know it. Logic, for all the trust we place in it, is really nothing more than a candle, all too easily snuffed out. And when it is gone, we are left alone in the dark, and everything we would scoff at by daylight suddenly becomes very believable.

Alright, before I wax too melodramatic, here's my story.

I was very young; only 4 or 5, at most, before either of my siblings were born. It was just Mommy and Daddy and me, living in our little house in Great Bend, Kansas. Very quaint. We were a young family, without much money, and most of our furniture was second-hand.

It was the middle of the day; summer, hot, boring. I was playing marbles by myself on the thin carpet beside the huge, old, flower-patterned-couch. Mom was down the hall in the kitchen, and Dad was at work.

Why I was trying to roll marbles around on the carpet I don't know - we had a perfectly good linoleum floor, after all. But there I was, swishing the marbles back and forth, happily bouncing them into each other. Then, in my overzealous enthusiasm, I rolled too hard. My favorite marble - the clear, ruby-red one, zipped into the dark space under the couch and was lost. Damnit. Dad wasn't home, and he was the only one strong enough to move that huge old couch for me. I'd have to get my marble back myself.

I reached my hand under the couch, tentatively at first, then deeper.

Encountering no marbles, I pulled my hand out in disappointment.

Then, a hand reached out from under the couch back at me. I remember the image vividly, and I suspect I always will. It was a slim hand, with tapered fingers - a woman's hand. It was gnarled and wrinkled, as if aged, and it was dead black. Not black as in African, black as in dead. Of course, back then, I didn't know that corpses blacken as they decompose, so I didn't know what the black meant.

The hand reached out to me as far as it could, which was just up to the wrist. Then it retreated under the couch. Then it emerged again, this time pushing with it a little crumpled up, plastic bag with a logo on it I didn't recognize. It waited, as if expecting me to take the bag. Then, when I didn't, it pulled the bag back under the couch and was gone.

I got up, walked down to the kitchen, and told my Mommy what had happened. Why didn't I run screaming, or at least run? I don't really know. All I can say is, I was a little kid; a hand reaching out from under the couch at me didn't seem like that huge a deal. I hadn't yet learned what was and was not permissible in reality. I had no worldview.

Mom was skeptical, but walked me back to the couch and explained how I was probably imagining things. She even reached her hand under the couch to convince me that nothing was down there. Later, Dad lifted the couch up for me, and the only thing under it was, of course, my missing marble, plus a few more marbles I didn't even remember losing.

But here's the scary part...

For years, I remembered this - I even developed a weird fantasy of little hand-people living under the couch, and I, in my childlike innocence, believed that they would catch me and take me away if I ever reached into their domain again. Then, as I grew older, I wrote the memory off as a dream I had had as a child - cute, but silly.

Then, a few years ago, I recounted the story to my mother.

She gave me a funny look, and told me she remembered it, because, after all, she had been there. She told me that she remembered me coming to her in the middle of the day and telling her about the hand under the couch, and remembered being highly disturbed by my story, since I was an extremely quiet, well-behaved kid who didn't ever lie.

Then she told me about the couch itself. According to her, she and Dad had gotten the couch from the estate of an old woman who had actually died on it. This was the first time I had heard about this, but it sure explained why they got rid of the couch within a month of my story.

But here's part that truly frightens me, even to this day. The part that I have to try so hard to get out of my mind some nights. Remember that bag the hand pushed towards me? I've never forgotten the logo that was on it. And, recently, (as in a few years ago), I saw the same logo again, on what looked like the same type of bag, in a hardware store.

It was a bag of utility razor-blades.

THE END

Well that's a wrap on Halloween, everybody! I hope you enjoy the story, I hope you enjoy the show, and I hope you spread the word about us!

So please remember to follow us on Twitter (@WillRogers2000 and @BobbyKoester), to like our Facebook Page, and to subscribe to our YouTube Channel! You can also send us comments or questions at WillAndBobby@gmail.com! We have some amazing announcements coming up, so keep an eye on us, guys!

See you again for episode 44 of WBKE on Sunday!

WBKE - Episode 27: One Day At Horrorland

There's a new episode of Will and Bobby Know Everything up! Episode 27 is entitled One Day At Horrorland, and it deals with such important topics as Bobby's face, roller coasters, Will's fear of windows?, and Dave Link making cat noises! How could you pass that up?! Anyway, be sure you like us on Facebook.

If you'd like to search for us on Itunes, we've made it real easy by clicking... here!

Or listen directly in your browser riiiiiight here.

Make sure you download the super cool Stitcher app and search for Will And Bobby just like you would on the super cool Iphone app, and keep an eye out for information on a brand new youtube channel we will be starting up fairly soon.

Also, if anyone out there on this glorious green internet has any tech experience, we are looking for you. If you are enthusiastic and mildly capable of helping us set up some sound equipment, perhaps shoot a few short skits, and eventually pat us on the back way more than you are now, email us at willandbobby@gmail.com. We love hearing from fans and especially from those of you who hate our guts.

Ultimately, we want to produce more content for you all!

In other news, that kickstarter to put Bobby's ass in baked beans hasn't been started yet, but don't think we forgot about it!

Enjoy the show, everyone.

Scary Story Time: July 2012

Quick disclaimer: I’m a really big fan of horror movies and scary stories. Recently I’ve been finding a lot of interesting little scary stories written anonymously by people on the internet, so I decided to start sharing some of the ones I like. You should know, before you read on, that I did not write any of these stories, unless otherwise noted. You should also know that I won’t always be posting stories that I enjoy 100%. There could be a ten-page story that I post because I like one sentence of it. In that case, I assume I’ll explain why I posted horse-shit and what merit I see in it. Sometimes, I’ll post “scary” stories that I hate, think are stupid, or maybe even funny. But more than that, you should really know that some of these stories may be somewhat graphic, so just steel yourself for anything, especially poor spelling and grammar (I don’t edit these stories). No matter what, though, I hope you enjoy them too, and if you know any stories or sources, please share them with me. Also, if you have any requests, just ask, I have a huge archive of this stuff! Hey guys, it's the third and final Friday the 13th of the year 2012. Obviously we all know that this is the year the world ends, and having a trio of unlucky days is no coincidence. I'm here to honor the occaision with a scary story.

For those of you who listened to the WBKE LIVE show Bobby and I did (click here to watch), you heard my explanation of Mount Everest. You heard about the horrific conditions, about the dead zone, and about the human bodies that litter the mountain's peak. I happen to have a scary story for you, based on that idea. So why don't we just jump right in?

The Everest Corpses - True Story

When I read this, I couldn’t help but flashback to a story my uncle once told my cousins and I late one night at a family reunion. He was kind of notorious among the extended family; one of those reasons was that he went on an Everest expedition when he was younger. As kids, we adored him, even if our families tended to isolate him for reasons they wouldn’t say. In retrospect, I realize he was drunk that night, but I think that was the only reason he told us what he did when the other adults weren’t paying attention. My cousin asked him about the Everest expedition, and he told us that he’d lied. They’d climbed it, alright, but they never made it to the top as he had claimed. There were six of them, and they were climbing a standard route on the south face. A little after they crossed into the death zone and they saw their first corpse lodged in a ravine, the bravado of the men in the group dimmed. Their mood grew even worse when an unexpected snow squall came in and they had to camp for the night prematurely. My uncle visibly paled as he talked about setting up a tent within line of sight of a frozen body that clung to an opposing ridge. He kept peering at its distant contorted face until the snow blocked it out, his thoughts transfixed by how that face seemed twisted in eternal pain and horror. Whoever it was had died begging his friends to somehow save him from the impossible position to which he’d fallen. Sleep was difficult that night, but the rigors of the climb helped. He awoke at some point, his ears filled with the razor whistle of frozen wind from the storm outside. A hissed whisper kept him from getting up - the other two men in the tent were already awake, lying motionless and listening. Something was scratching around in the crunchy snow outside… but outside, the oxygen levels were too low for anything to survive. A quiet but continual cracking sound followed the scratches, as if something covered in ice was painfully clawing around. The sounds only lasted for a few minutes, but my uncle lost something of himself that night as he trembled there quietly while the icy horror wheezed “help me… help me…” outside in the dark. In the morning, their worst fears were confirmed. The high winds had torn open the other tent, and one of the men had been dragged out. On the dark and storm-torn slope, he was unable to find his way back, and had fallen and died on the same ridge as the other unreachable body. My uncle and his friends knew there was nothing they could have done - if they had gone out there they would have just died, too - but the incident ended the expedition. My uncle quieted as he described packing up in the sight of that nightmarish frozen corpse. It was hard to tell, but, the more he peered at it, the less the expression on its face seemed horrified and pained… and the more it seemed that its unnaturally wide mouth was actually a horrible grin. My uncle resolved to check the other tent’s damage to see if it really was from the wind when they got to base camp, but in all the commotion about the death of their friend, he never got the chance. That decayed and mocking leer has haunted him ever since.

The End.

Nothing about this story is technically supernatural, it's all plausible. Fuck, there's nothing more fascinating than that mountain, to me. It's the perfect setting for a horror story.

Now usually I'd end Scary Story Time with a picture of a goofy animal to help bring everybody's spirits from the depths of hell, and shake the fear out, but I have a better idea this month.

Along with my huge file of scary stories, I have another document which may not be as big, but is filled with some of the worst horror stories I've found on my searches of the internet.

So I'm going to cap the string of Friday the 13th's and end this month's SST with one of those. Here is one of the worst stories I've ever read. Good luck reading it:

Apartment 366

I just moved into my new apartment and there are some things... creepy things. Like blood on the floor or steak knives. One time I went up to go take a piss and I find MY steak knife in floating mid air! I ran from it but it still stabbed me! One day, to see if this would help, I talked to my superintendent about it. He said "Well, you see, a Serial Killer Rapist lived in that apartment." Then I say "Well then, how did he die?" Then he says "A S.W.A.T team killed him." He goes on "But the creepiest thing of all is that they never found his body." After I found out about this, I will move ASAP. If it's not to late...

The End.

That story is one of the worst pieces of shit I've ever read. I really hope a child wrote it. Now, that was ostensibly to help comfort you after the horrifying Everest Story, but I actually have one more thing to share with you:

Happy Friday the 13th, everybody! More Scary Story Time next month!