MFM Minisode 502

Hello, and welcome to my favorite murder.

That's Orgie Heartstark.

That's nope, that's kill Gareff. And that's the other introduction. And this is the miniso, and this is you're the one that doesn't understand. This is the miniso from your letters to our gods ears and God then the God's ears for the filter. We're your filter.

God is waiting to hear what we have to tell him.

But we're waiting to hear what you have to tell us. It's complicated.

Do you understand why you have to pay us twenty nine ninety nine?

You go? Okay?

Oh good, because this is a this is a nice kickoff.

Okay.

The subject line of this email is Grandma's spilling family.

Secrets Hawk goss Hi.

Y'all.

My parents and I live in the ruralld town of bar Massachusetts, on a fifty acre plot of land that was bought about eighty years ago by my great grandmother's older brother. When he died, he gave the land to my great grandmother and she split it up between her three children. They split it up to their children, one of them being my father.

Capitalized I was gonna. I was like, who is it Jeffrey Dahmer, like, that's just.

Going to miss some fucking who's gonna end another then my father the plot of Land Steeler himself. Okay, since I was a baby, I've always had my grandmother and grandfather living next door to me, and family and cousins and second cousins always around.

It's very fun.

I would often walk next door and spend time with my grandma during the day.

What a dream.

We would have a few cups of tea and talk about just everything from her childhood, political views, the birds, the drama of our small town parenthesy is less than five thousand people, and anything you could think of. One day, I brought up our family history. Before my grandpa passed in twenty eighteen. He was huge on genealogy and creating our family tree.

One of the.

Facts that he was most proud of was tracing his side of the family's history back to the Mayflower and becoming a member of the Mayflower Society. Love that shit, they do, the blue Bloods love it. He made so many binders of our family tree and put together chart after chart of different families and connected it to ours.

On this fateful day, Grandma.

Had my grandpa's binders out and was moving them around, and me, being a murder you know, asked her if we had any family secrets or murderers in those books, and she instantly said, oh, yes, no one ever told you about how we're related to Bathsheba Ruggles. Spooner, me, having no idea who she was talking about, was instantly interested.

Does that sound familiar at all?

Yeah, you covered her.

We then proceed to find her father in grandpa's genealogy binder, General Timothy Ruggles, the Loyalist and the Revolutionary War and one of the most hated generals in the area. Remember that he was like a British royalist. Yes, he lived only a town away from bar in Hardwick, mass. From that point we found Bathsheba and grandma told me her story.

You covered it in an MFM five thirty nine. It keeps getting ruined.

Oh with the sixteen year old fuck boy.

Yes, ah, yes.

Bathsheba was the first woman to be executed in America following the murder of her husband Joshua Spooner. This was yeah, neck beard, yeah, neck weird, Yeah, yeah, neck beards stuff. Basheba was five months pregnant and by her sixteen year old lover Ezra Ross at the time of her death. After telling me, Grandma pulled out a signed copy of a book she'd gotten about Bathsheba, called Murdered by his Wife, written by Deborah Novis and Avas. The fact that I can bond even more with my grandma over true crime is an amazing thing.

She's such a strong.

Woman who married the love of her life at eighteen. Grandpa was in the Air Force for over twenty years, and she traveled and lived wherever he got stationed. She also raised and cared for four boys, almost all on her own at times because my grandpa would be off around the world. She's truly an amazing woman, and I'm so glad I still have her in my life. Oh lucky, stay sexy and don't get murdered.

Julia, Julia, So it was her, what great grandma or what was the connection?

Yes, it was Bathsheba's father is in the grandpa's family, Okay, and so essentially yeah that he that they were just related.

Okay, that's very cool. You got to do your ancestry chart stuff and talk to your grandparents, Yeah, got it.

You simply must.

Please for us if nothing else okay, my childhood business venture. This one's funny. I have no idea where this story would fit in in the list of hometown call outs, but let's just file it under miscellaneous nice. When I was a kid, on hot summer days, I would occasionally host a little lemonade stand on the sidewalk. I had no business calling it a lemonade stand since I was usually selling grape kool aid, but whatever, so.

Just the words.

You can taste grape kool aid in your mouth like I can't warm grape coolid. Yeah.

I'd usually rake in about a dollar fifty, which in today's money is Wait, what you don't say a year? Someone must tell you, which in today's money is four dollars like she did the.

Math, which I appreciate, but didn't include.

Enough for a couple candy bars. One day, I came up with a brilliant plan. I had an idea to sell a commodity that had a seemingly endless supply and required very little investment on my part. Smart I opened my card table stand out by the sidewalk, and a nice woman pulled up in front of me. How much is a couple of lemonade? She asked, looking through her purse for change. I'm selling grasshoppers, I replied.

What.

The Homan's face rapidly changed from a smile to a cringe, and she spidered no, thank you and drove away. Yes, I had a grasshopper. Stay on live Yep. Earlier in the day, I had gone out into the tall grass with my butterfly net and caught an abundance of grasshoppers, putting each one carefully into my plastic critter cage that housed my long dead hermit crab. Tiny grasshoppers were marked ten cents. Regular costs, regular size cost a quarter, and the big ass grasshoppers that were a bitch to catch, cost a whopping fifty cents. Yeah, said so excited. I've seen them maybe once a year. At this point, they're all fucking dead, the big ones, any of them. Oh yeah, grasshoppers.

She turns and looks, and there's a bunch of birds lining up to get with their quarter.

There's a little raccoon rubbing his little tiny hands together.

Finally they've opened up one of these in my neighborhood.

Gross the crunch, Okay, fifty cents. I had kids running from every house with sweaty change in their hands looking to buy a pet grasshopper. I can only imagine their parents' discomfort as each child attempted to bring a big bug into the house. Most of them were told to keep the grasshoppers outside. I made six dollars tell yeah, the clothing of sixteen dollars in today's money. It was the most successful stand I ever had through all of my childhood.

So smart. Unfortunately, my activism got the best of me as I began to feel sad for all the grasshoppers that had lost their freedom that day. Yeah, I snuck around to the little boxes and buckets in yards that contained the pets and released all that I found. This caused a bunch of kids to cry when they saw their grasshoppers had escaped. To recap, I captured grasshoppers, sold them to children, released them, kept the money, and comforted my customers as they mourned their losses. Questionable business practices at best. Fortunately, my shady business dealings eventually ended and I did not grow up to be a con artist. Nice, stay sexy, and don't become a grasshopper dealer If you can't handle the pressure, Kim.

Kim, that's super genius and the after the fact kind of regret of what have I done, but then keeping them mind.

Out but not enough to like so good. Yeah, I've done them knock on every door and offer their money.

Bag climbing into this squirrel's house. I need those.

Oh good.

The subjectline of this email is Grandpa's Switcheroo funeral story, and then in parentheses it says, lighthearted. Okay, hi MFM gals, you made the call for grandparents switcher root stories after Jesus.

We're just saying.

Grandparents stories, are they? Okay, let's hear it.

Well, there's freaky Friday.

Okay, you made the call for grandparents switch your roost stories after last week's You're dead to us cake debacle?

Oh yeah, you're dead? Oh okay, yeah switch yeah.

And this Sylvester family tale immediately came to mind. My grandpa, Armando Internacional passed in twenty eleven, and as far as Grandpa's go, he was the best of the best, kind and charming with a playful sense of humor. He was our patriarch who loved a joke and pull pranks on his kids and grandchildren.

Growing up.

He would often jokingly ask me Hey, do you have five bucks?

A canmore?

That is such a good like scam an old guy, I say, hey, hey, you have five bucks?

Love that men old, knowing full well, I was six years old and broke as hell. It was silly, but his frugality often became a benchmark of family stories. When he passed away at the age of eighty, my family was understandably devastated. In the days leading up to Arman's funeral, we gathered at his home to sort through his belongings, plan arrangements, and make sense of our collective grief. Emotions ran heavy up until the morning of the funeral, when my uncle, Bruce Armand's youngest son, frantically yelled from the back room of the house, hey, has anyone seen my suit?

Bruce had flown in for the occasion and left his freshly pressed suit hanging in the closet of his childhood bedroom. Now said suit was missing. As I stood up to help my uncle look for his funeral best I glanced over at my dad, Gary, who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Oh no, oh no, my dad was okay, oh no, my dad whispered under his breath. Turns out in the haze of planning his own father's funeral. My dad saw a new suit hanging in the closet, assumed it belonged to Armand, and dropped it off at the funeral home before viewing. That's right, Grandpa was buried in a brand new suit, and his son now had nothing to wear. Once we realized what happened, every single one of us in that house succumbed to full blown laughter.

Despite the heaviness of the moment, the idea that our ever frugal grandfather pulled a fast one felt so fitty.

Oh yeah, I didn't even think about that. Oh my god.

It was his last prank, and one will never forget.

Stay sexy and don't bury Grandpa in someone else's suit.

Rachel Sylvester.

I love that was his final prank. Yes, I can't believe that.

It's so good.

I love it.

And then the like that one uncle is just like wearing his weird old green blazer from nineteen fifty.

Eight, totally like if it was an asshole Grandpa, it wouldn't be funny, but it's fucking hilarious. Yeah, it's frank Grandpa. Okay, this is da dad, Da, I'm not telling you the name of this something something Karen Georgia Stephen Pets. This isn't a trash mom story so much as a mom's trash Tinder date story. My parents were unhappily married for twenty five years before finally divorcing in twenty fifteen. Heang guys.

The split was neither clean nor amicable, and my mom, Michelle, swore never to date again. So imagine my shock a few years later when I found out she'd joined Tinder. She only went on a handful of dates, none of which went anywhere, but she stayed in touch with a couple of guys, meeting up occasionally for a coffee or a dog walk. Wink wink, Right, a dog walk, coffee or do.

But isn't it horrible for older people on something like Tinder?

It was a few years ago, then, that's there weren't really that many options, right.

Yea, I guess that's true. Plenty of fish, of course, right.

I think that one's terrible, though, isn't it? As a Christian? I don't know? One such guy was Kevin, a perfectly nice but sorry. One such guy was Kevin, a perfectly nice but otherwise completely forgettable dude. With a giant tattoo of his dead wife's face on his leg. Kevin Jesus. One afternoon, my sister called with breaking news. So this is later after they had gone on some dates. Okay, Kevin had added my mom to a WhatsApp group, a WhatsApp group called Tinder, along with several other women he'd matched with. That's right, keV, who was supposedly away on a spiritual fast, had somehow managed to add every single one of his tender dates into one group chat. He thought he was categorizing these contacts, that's right. When they

all started to ask what the fuck was going on, his explanation was that he simply went to separate his family friends customers. He then swiftly and unceremoniously left the group.

Left them behind together.

How can I fucking split halth on you guys?

That tragically My mom did not seize this once in a lifetime opportunity to form a John Tucker Must Die style girl gang. But the women did spend a respectable amount of time comparing notes and talking shit about Kevin before parting ways. I mean, your new best.

Friends, what choice did they have?

Book club? Immediate?

Book club immediate book club. And also it's just that idea.

It's the especially corny idea that it's like, I'm on a spiritual rotree. I'm I'm so zen and I'm so tapped in except for how I'm a douchebag on dating apps.

Yeah, and I'm lying in bed at the spiritual treat categorizing people.

I've known, but it's kind of big.

Not long after, my mom got permanently banned from Tinder for reporting nearly every profile she saw, convinced they were all fake. Spoiler they were.

Not Michelle, She gets banned. Yeah, this guy's not raised too good to be true.

These days, she's off the apps entirely because she quote couldn't bear the thought of sharing closet space with a man ever again, Oh just naked, Get a naked man and you never have to worry about right and Newdice, Thank you for everything. Shout out to my sister, Amy Fellow, longtime murdering. Now we're not talking right now, but hopefully we'll be cool by the time this is read.

Amy, listen to me, maybye, it's your fault. Amy. Wait, does say older sister or younger sister?

My sister?

Listen, girls, Lauren Amy, Lauren Amy, we understand stuff comes up all the time. There's fighting, there's stuff in life yours. I'll say what my mom used to say with me and my sister used. Okay, your sister is the only person you have. I didn't have a sister. Don't you understand how lucky you are?

And if you ever tour internationally again, please add Cape Cod to the list. And then there's a note from someone Molly that you it's Cape Town.

Whoa is the note that Cape Cod is not in Europe?

Cape Town? That's yeah, that makes way more sense. No, this is the second Cape Town request I saw in the inbox today. Oh there are murderingos of plenty down here in Cape Town, Cape.

Down in Cape Cod, Cape Town.

Yeah, stay sexy and don't try to separate your family, period, friends, period customers.

Lara, Lara, stop fighting with your sister, you lunatic. I would kill to know what they're fighting about. Oh God, I hope it's something heavy.

I hope it's something petty, but some I hope it's this.

You said you were gonna get me a frosty and you didn't, and now we're not talking for eight months.

That's the stuff that's really satisfying.

Yeah, okay, my last one. The subject line is Irish grand Lore. Okay, Hi, Karen and Georgia. You know what they say. Longtime listener, first time writer. I've been listening to your podcast backwards with new weekly episodes sprinkled in here and there, obviously for about two years now. So forgive me if I'm confused on which pets are with us and.

Which ones have walked the Rainbow bridge.

That's such a good way to like say it, categorizing where you are at this place.

Also, this is a person who knows us well enough to be like, I have to apologize.

I don't know what pets are dead or alive.

Shockingly, me, me still kicking. I cannot believe it.

What a supermodel.

She does not She doesn't have long for this world. But I have been saying that for at least five years. Yeah.

Well, and I think that it's the fury that's keeping her alive.

That's the way to go.

She's so angry.

I do have to say, and I don't want to bump anybody out, but Frank Frank's last visit at the VET, the test, the tests weren't great, and.

It's Frank's immortal Frank is I said.

The Vet called me and was just like saying, you know, yeah, there's lumps and bumps and he's got all kinds of stuff going on. And and I go, well, he is kind of old, and she he's eighteen and two months.

Holy shit, so fucking old.

Wow. But the thing is my thing is when I go to feed him breakfast or dinner, the joy and the tippy tappy dancing. I'm like, that's when that goes, I'll start getting worried. But that's still here.

That's so cute. So me, me and Frank holding on. They're like grandma and grandpa.

We have to put them in a room because they could fight and just kill each other.

Should we do a bedding pole goes?

Stop it like cock fighting kind of No, just see who goes first?

Oh oh or whatever. Oh yeah, that's sad.

It's so sad.

Why are we even because we can't handle our feelings? I know, Okay, so forgive me. If I'm confused about which pets with us and which ones have walked the Rainbow Bridge, Well you don't have to be confused anymore, because we put our gambling fucking gambling together, dead.

Pets gambling either way, loved you all.

I'm writing in because I just listened to the Minnesota talking about Dad Laura and wanted to join in on the fund with a twist. Grand Laura, much like Karen's. My grandmother, moved here from Ireland in her mid teens. She had many stories to share, and yet one my family and I truly treasured the most was when she partied it up in a remote cabin with a one and only Gordon Lightfoot.

Wait, who's Gordon myffoot?

He's saying the direct the adminstitch Gerald.

What he's saying?

The reck of the seventies side down? Yeah? Yeah, okay, yes, and then it says yes, a true Canadian classic. One day, we were visiting my grandparents when she recounted the time her and my grandfather had gone on vacation to Rosneath, Manor in the Muskokas in Ontario, Canada, where she had met with a very young pre fame Gord. Here's where many Shenanigans took place, lots of illegal activities, and then in parentheses for twenty.

Blaze it grandparent threesome.

They're all stoned and just like getting grabby, singing and songwriting and most of all laughs shared among old and new friends. So no, we're being We're are the sex pests in this situation. I'd like to think every time she heard a Gordon Lightfoot song she remembered some fun memories from her younger years with the man who she shared an unforgettable vacation with. Oh, and my grandfather too.

I hope she's at rest now with my granddad, her husband of sixty plus years, and my dad, whom she loved like her very own son. Stay sexy, and why do you call it trasure? I must not be caught up to that part yet, uh slancha Jillian ps attached as a photo of June and Gord having a grand old time. As she would put it, Oh my god, here it is Grandma hanging out with a young Gordon Lightfoot three beard.

Such a good photo. He is so cute. Look at her beehive, her bouflon.

Those old Kodak like three by three years.

Yeah, it's that's every picture my parents have of like right when my sister was born. Total and now it looks like it's from ancient Egypt.

Grandma looks high as fuck.

I will say, Grandma is having the time of her life and she's like, I'm gonna set you up rock and roll star.

Amazing, I mean.

And to have that captured on film.

Yeah, wow, what a life. So it's very cool. Okay, have last one. This is a little long, but it's a good one. It's a famous person paying hell. Yes, hello, how are you? I'm good. I'm me too. I'm a stand up comedian based in Montreal. Last summer I had the privilege of getting a spot in the Just for Laughs Comedy Festival.

Congratulations. Yeah, it's a big deal.

I nabbed one of the hourly sought after middle of the day outdoor stage on the festival promenade spots. Karen will know how amazing. These are very very bad and I was on no, I was over the moon. I think.

So h outside during the day, the middle of the.

Day, outdoor stage on the festival promenade. Oh so like not in a bar or in a yeah.

Kind of worst case scenario.

Outside and during the day for comedy is literally just inviting people to talk while you're talking, and it's just it's like you're selling knives at the County Fair.

It's awful, so funny that you were joking she knew, you know that she was working around And I was like, I don't get it. I think she's being sincere. It's happening okay. And I was over the moon about it, and it says really truly, I would have taken anything, and I was incredibly grateful.

I mean, that's the whole idea, right, It's like, they'll be grateful. Set them up in the fucking alley.

Not anymore for Sadie. As a just for last comic, I was given two festival passes, one for me and one for my girlfriend Hillary, which granted us access to a bunch of shows for free and access to the after parties.

Maybe.

At these after parties, I had the pleasure of chatting with some of my favorite comedians. Everyone was lovely and getting to meet some of my comedy heroes was huge for me, but the nagging imposter syndrome I felt made things a little bittersweet. As a local comic with only a couple of years of experience under her belt, I didn't have much to offer when it came to networking, so these interactions made me feel like I was taking up too much of important people's time. But then I met Alan Comming. What I'd been chatting with my friend Andrina outside one of the party venues. She was rolling a cigarette when a festival volunteer approached us with an over the top level of urgency. He asked, are you

rolling cigarettes? Alan? Alan Cumming would really like a world cigarette? Can we have one? I tried my best. You now, being my typical dumbass self, I tried to joke. Actually, she told me I could have the rest of these. He didn't laugh. He had no time for my bs. Yes, obviously, of course we assured him Alan Cumming could smoke with us for the rest. Do we need to tell everyone who Alan Cumming is really now?

Well, I mean, if you don't know, Alan Cumming is a uh I think he's originally Irish, but I actually.

Don't says it right here? Wait, hold on Scottish Scottish. Yeah, if you watch Traders, he's the host of Traders, Like that's the host of Traders. He's huge.

But he's also the director of the anniversary party, the.

One you were in. Okay, so you personally are friends with him, but I have met him and he's amazing. For the rest of the night into the am. We hung out on a curb in Montreal, chatting with Alan Cummings as if we were old friends. He talked about his partner and we talked about ours. He shared some hilarious anecdotes about the Broadway production of the children's book he and his husband had written about their two dogs, The Adventures of Honey and Leon.

Oh.

He also dropped some hot celebrity dating gossip that I locked away in the vault out of respect, and he says, I can be trusted with your secret celebrities. Eventually, my girlfriend joined us, and upon hearing that she was a lawyer, Alan shared some stories from his time on The Good Wife Nice. The hilight of my night, and possibly of the entire festival, was making Alan coming laugh. When I told him I was a comedian, he said, in his charming Scottish accent, I'm not going to pretend. Oh, and you're a good one. I bet with that. The impostor syndrome of that operated. Shortly after I received my compliment, I decided it would be best to wrap up the interaction before I ruined it somehow smart, I turned to

my girlfriend and said, well, it's getting pretty late, should we think about heading home? And to this, Alan responded, what I thought we were having a nice party on the sidewalk. Okay, Alan, I said, we can hang out a bit longer, stay sexy and don't question your achievements. But if you do, hopefully they'll be a famous Scottish bisexual somewhere nearby to set you straight. Cheers Sadie.

Sadie, what a great He's like.

Your fairy comedian godmother. And I have a photo of the girlfriend Sadie and Alan coming.

No what oh, look at him, look at him and look at them.

Everyone's teeth are amazing.

First of all, I feel like Alan coming. I love that he gets to have this time because he really is kind of taking over in this way.

He's already been doing it.

Yeah, he's a pro, he's good at everything.

Yea.

And now he's just like, yeah, I'm just going to go be a bad bitch in the streets. I love it, love him amazing.

Yay, so good.

We're still accepting celebrity paying out skuys good or bad?

Did you get booked at just for laughs? Who did you meet when you were there?

Let us know we probably hate them, but thanks for listening and thanks for being here. Uh and stay secony, don't get murdered. Goodbye, Elvis. Do you want a cookie?

This has been an exactly right production.

Our managing producer is Molly Smith.

Our consulting producer is Kate Shellenbach.

Our creative lead is Alison Agusti.

Our associate producer is Tessa Hughes, and our editor is Aristotle Acevedo.

This episode was mixed by Leona Squillacci.

Email your hometowns to My Favorite Murder at gmail dot com and follow the show on Instagram at my Favorite Murder.

Listen to My Favorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

Or why to new episodes every week on Netflix. Search for My Favorite Murder, add us to your list and hit the double thumbs up button.

Goodbye,

MFM Minisode 502

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