Episode Details

This Patreon episode has a little bit of language that wouldn't be appropriate for the public podcast.Good evening, it's Spooky Boo coming to you from the lighthouse looking over the Sandcastle beach in Northern California. It's a little breezy tonight, with the wind at about 11 MPH and 70 degrees. The skies are still a little smoky and the fog is thin. The cryptids are out, I can hear them in the distance getting ready for the sun to go down and the moon to rise so they can hunt. So keep your doors shut in Sandcastle at night, or you might just become a tasty tidbit morsel for a werecat, werewolf, or worse!Tonight I have two stories about cryptids and shapeshifters. I thought these were the perfect stories for the end of the summer. Fall is the perfect time for spooky stories about monsters and werewolves for Halloween is right around the corner. So grab your pumpkins and pull up your blanket and listen to tonight's episode Hungry Hungry Cryptids.Now let's begin...Do Not Feed the AnimalsA CreepypastaI have been receiving the letters for well over 50 years, although now it’s more often I will get an email from him.Usually threatening, sometimes cordial or boastful, occasionally almost begging me to return to the small town of Fairview. A few years after they started, he began to claim to have found the little girl and described in vivid detail how he tore her to shreds. I was worried he may have been telling the truth for over a decade, until I managed to track her down in the summer of 71 and discovered she had grown into a lovely young woman residing in Kingsport. When I informed him of her safety in one of my rare replies to him, he responded with a 59 page long diatribe about how he was going to torture me to death. Now, after all these years, I feel that I should return for one, final hunt in a career in the supernatural. It would be fitting that Fairview would be the location of my first and last encounter with the paranormal.But I am getting rather ahead of myself. In the summer of 54, I had just graduated from high school and decided to take a small vacation on my own. Having never been one for large crowds, I settled on the small town of Fairview, which I had heard had some of the most stirring natural landscapes in the state, especially the lush forests that surrounded it on every side. I had scheduled a two week stay at the Fairview Coyote Inn, and left that morning to enjoy a scenic drive through the countryside. When I finally arrived in town, it was almost evening, but I still took time to stop at the town limits and admire the famous sign which had become a somewhat obscure legend in the surrounding area. The version I had heard from a schoolmate said that it had been stolen from the local (now bankrupt and closed) zoo by a gang of vandals during the first world war and erected in its current position for reasons only a heavily inebriated mind could fathom. The zoo owner apparently never bothered to retrieve it, and so it stood until no one could imagine the town without it. It read:1. Animals may not leave their habitat.
2. Animals who harm visitors or staff will be punished.
3. DO NOT under ANY circumstances feed the animals.Having satisfied my curiosity, I drove to the hotel and checked in. The owner was extremely friendly, and asked if, since the porter was home sick that day, I might go into the next room and ask the maintenance man, whom he affectionately called “Old Ralph,” to help me with my bags.Old Ralph was a large man. Only slightly taller than average, his waist was extremely robust and his arms were well muscled. He had white hair, and a long and extremely shaggy beard. I politely asked for his assistance, and he grudgingly and silently stood and walked to the lobby to help with my bags. Simply trying to make conversation on the way to my room, I remarked on the picture of a