THE FIGURE

The house I grew up in was built in the 1880's and my family lived there until 2004 or so. At the time of the first experience(that I'm aware of), I was only about 3 or 4 months old and my parents were in the middle of a kitchen remodel. My dad says he woke up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep and had an overwhelming sensation that someone was in the house. So he grabbed his .357 from his night stand and took our lab and did a perimeter check of the house. Nothing was out of place and everything seemed to be in order. But our dog would not go into our basement. My dad tried pushing him down but it still wouldn't budge. So my dad picked him up and carried him down and soon as he put him down he ran back up the stairs. SO my dad cleared the basement by himself. After realizing everything was fine, he grabbed a drink and decided to go back to bed. As my dad was walking back up the stairs to the second story, he looked up and saw the figure of an elderly man standing at the top of the stairs looking at him. My dad said he was close enough where he tried to grab the figure thinking it was an intruder but it simply vanished. A few weeks after that, my dad had another experience. Again he woke up and felt a presence that had the hairs on his neck standing up. He rolled over and looked through the doorway and saw the same figure staring at him from the hallway. My went to reach for his .357 and when he looked back the figure was gone. He checked the house out for an signs of a break in and could not find anything.

My dad never told my mom about what he had been seeing until my mom had an experience for herself. My dad was gone on a business in Kentucky and she was home alone with me. She woke up in the middle of the night and felt something heavy on the end of the bed. She looked up and saw a figure fitting the same description sitting on the bed looking at her. She quickly turned on the light and the figure was nowhere to be seen. She called my dad panic stricken around 3 in the morning and told him what she had saw. He played it off as a dream and there was nothing to be afraid of. After my dad returned, he told her what he had seen.

We never did figure out what the figure was. My parents have two theories on who the figure might be. One is that it is the original owner of the house not pleased with his house being worked on and the other theory is the figure being my grandfather, who passed away before I was born, checking on his son's first child. After the work was completed the figure was never seen again but every once and awhile you get the feeling like you were being watched. Especially in the basement.

The house is now abandoned and condemned. The local dump bought the house and tried renting the property but had trouble keeping tenants. The next door neighbor who I still deer hunt with said one group of renters said the house was haunted. One winter they did not winterize the house while it was empty and the pipes burst and the basement filled with water. Evidently water was coming out of the basement windows. Now the house is filled with mold and is scheduled to be demolished soon.

Source.

IN THE WILD

Taken from the article,"25 Hikers And Backpackers Reveal The Creepiest, Scariest Things They’ve Found In The Wild."

This one gave me the creepiest creeps:

Took my young children to a cave not far from the house. Popular spot, but we had the place to ourselves. You can walk through it in about 30 minutes without too much difficulty. It has a tiny exit at the opposite end. It was pretty muddy, so we decided to turn around and head back to the entrance. Halfway back, there was a lit candle sitting about eight feet up one side. It was definitely not there on the first trip. I went into full-on protective-dad-mode knowing there was likely someone hiding in the dark while we walked the rest of the way out.

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I AM YOUR SISTER

When I was in college, my girlfriend got a call from her mother, and then from her sister five minutes after. Her sister was freaked out and the mother was, too.

Her sister was a new college freshman, and she and her new roommates decided to use a Ouija board one night. Apparently they had contacted some spirit who apparently knew her sister's name. They asked:

What is your name?

I don't have a name.

Who are you? 

I am your sister. I am a year older than you.

The next day, her sister called her mom and told her what the Ouija board spirit had said. Her mother then told her about the miscarriage she'd had a year before her sister was born. Her mother and father had never told anyone.

Story source.

PERFECT CIRCLE

Summer between my junior and senior year in college. I was living in my college house in a small town in southern MN. Three of my housemates were also there that summer. We mostly spent our time working or getting drunk or trying to get laid. Typical awesome college summer.

One particular Thursday evening, we four ambled down to the local bar and drank a few pitchers and ate some hot wings. Our waitress was my friend Sarah. Strawberry blonde, blue eyes, 5'2", nice rack. We had all known her since freshman year so she stood around for awhile, shooting the breeze, whatever. About 11 or so we packed it in and headed back to our house, saying goodnight to Sarah as we headed out the door. My buddies all had to work the next day, so they headed off to bed; I worked night shift at the local hospital that summer, so I was used to being up all night. So I stayed up and watched some TV, figuring I'd fall asleep around dawn, wake up mid-afternoon, and then head to work the following night.

At about 2am, there was a frame-rattling pounding on our front door and I could hear a woman crying for someone to help her. Just as I reached the front hallway the door flew open (we never had it locked) and Sarah - our waitress - came running in. She was in boxers and a t-shirt - no shoes. She ran to me and grabbed on to me and I could feel her shaking. My buddies slowly came wandering out of their rooms, wondering what the hell was going on.

Eventually, the only sort of story we could get out of Sarah was that someone had been in her house that night. Her housemates were all gone for the summer, so she was living by herself. We told her she needed to call the police right away, but she got a really weird look and refused. She wanted us guys to go back to her house and see if anyone was there.

We armed ourselves as best we could. I grabbed my Maglite, and my buddies had baseball bats and golf clubs. We gave Sarah a pair of flip-flops and a sweatshirt and we walked the five blocks to her house. That's right, she'd run five blocks to our house barefoot. To describe her as freaked out is a bit of an understatement.

When we got to her house, her front door was standing wide open. She said she thought she'd left it that way when she'd run out. When we got into the house, at first everything seemed normal. The rooms were all tidy and clean; no dishes in the sink; no messy laundry on the floors; the windows were down and locked; the air-conditioning was running. There was no one in the house.

But then we got to Sarah's bedroom.

My first thought was literally "There was a tornado in here." Her vertical blinds were bent and twisted into each other. Her drawers were open, and clothing strewn about the room. All of her lights were on; her TV was on; her radio was on. Directly in the middle of her floor was a pile of junk, like someone had dumped a drawer on the carpeting: pens, envelopes, key-chains, junk. AND IT WAS ALL ARRANGED IN A GEOMETRICALLY PERFECT CIRCLE, about two feet in diameter.

My buddy Troy said "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Back at our house, Sarah told us what had happened. Just thinking of her story now, I've got goosebumps again.

Sarah's shift ended at 1am. She'd cleaned her station and then walked back to her house from the bar. She said she'd made sure all the doors and windows were locked, had climbed into bed, watched a little TV, and then she thought had gone to sleep about 1:45. She didn't think she slept very long.

Shortly after falling asleep, Sarah was awakened by a clicking sound. She sat up in bed when she realized the sound was her vertical blinds clicking off of each other, as if they were blowing in a breeze. Since she had just checked all the windows, this didn't seem possible. Then she realized her TV was back on, which she had just shut off. Strangely, however, there was no picture; just a blank blue screen.

Then she saw the little girl. Sarah said she looked like she was about six or seven years old. The little girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of Sarah's bedroom, and at first Sarah thought she was playing with a toy or something on the floor. Sarah's first reaction wasn't fear; her first thought was that this little girl was sleep-walking or something and had managed to get into the house. So she said "Honey, are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

At the sound of Sarah's voice, the little girl looked up - and she had no eyes. Sarah said she could see through two holes where the little girl's eyes should have been; she could see the room behind her. Sarah jumped up, ran out of the room, ran out the front door, ran to our house. She said she came to our house because she had seen us at the bar that night and knew we were home.

Sarah said that while at first she thought the little girl had been playing with a toy on the floor, she now thought the girl had been arranging her stuff in that circle. That perfect circle of junk on the carpet was exactly where the little girl had been sitting.

Story source.

DANGERFIELD NEWBY

During the John Brown raid, the first raider killed was an African-American  man by the name of Dangerfield Newby. Dangerfield had been freed by his white father, but he had a wife and seven children held in slavery in Warrenton, Virginia. His wife’s master had told him that for the sum of $1,500 he could buy his wife and his youngest baby, who had just started to crawl. Dangerfield earned that amount of money and went back to Warrenton to purchase his wife and baby, only to have his wife’s master raise the price. The free black man then joined John Brown in the hope of freeing not only his wife and youngest baby, but his entire family.

There were a lot of guns in Harper's Ferry, since they were made in the town and stored in the 22 building armory complex near the train tracks. There was little ammunition for the guns, however, and townspeople would fire anything they could find for their guns. One man was shooting 6 inch spikes from his powder-loaded gun.

When John Brown raided the town in October of 1859, it was one of those spikes that hit the throat of Dangerfield Newby. He was killed instantly.

The people of Harper's Ferry, frustrated and angered by John Brown and his raiders, took the body of Dangerfield Newby and stabbed it repeatedly with their rusty knives. They left the mutilated body in the alley to be eaten by the hungry hogs.

Some night, if you are walking down Hog Alley and see a man dressed in baggy trousers and an old slouched hat with a terrible scar across his throat, you will know you have met Dangerfield Newby. He is still roaming our streets, trying to free his family.

Source.

THE FOOTREST

Recent reminiscing with a friend of mine reminded us both of this very random and creepy occurrence that took place about five years ago or so at a movie theater somewhat local to us both, and where he used to work. This is going to sound like 100% bullshit, and I know everyone who's about to tell some kind of creepy tale always preempts with that disclaimer, but you should know that this really did happen. It's too bizarre to have made up. 

In the midst of this particular movie theater being bought out by yet another, larger movie theater company (which seemed to happen every 2-3 years), small signs began appearing on certain seats in one particular theater auditorium. This sign read something to the effect of:

"Part of our renovation process includes the installation of automatic footrests, which will engage once the lights dim and your feature begins."

During this time, customers began to experience the automatic footrests for themselves.

And then the feedback began.

The first feedback was quite negative, and for good reason. (More on that later.) Simply put: the footrests were not as advertised. Management did not take her concerns very seriously, assuming she was complaining just to get some free tickets.

A couple weeks later, the theater had their second customer feedback: the customer simply remarked that they liked the new automated footrests, had used them for the duration of the film, and had nothing more to add.

By this point, theater employees were mystified. You see, there were no automatic footrests installed anywhere in that theater.

One day, my buddy, who was a manager at the time, was asked to see about a situation that occurred within one of the auditoriums, and to assist the security staff as needed. Upon getting there, outside the auditorium in the hallway, he saw a frazzled girl, her angry boyfriend, and a strange looking man sitting on a bench in handcuffs, looking ashamed and terrified.

Clearly, something bad had gone down between all of them.

That strange looking man, it turns out, was the automatic footrest. He would place the sign on the seat where the "footrest" would engage, slide beneath the seat on his back once the lights went low, grab the person's feet with his hands, and stare up at them from the floor while holding the person's feet up above him.

Turns out: the first "customer feedback" had not only been quite negative, but flat-out described the situation for what it was: there was someone in an auditorium sneaking under seats and holding people's feet. She'd described the grabber's face as "ghostly white." The fact that staff did not find the "sign" she'd reported to be hung on the seat reinforced management's stance that she was pulling a scam. They even did a round of myth-busting and tried sliding on their backs under the seat to see if anyone could even fit.

No one could.

Following the second feedback about automated footrests, the light bulb went off and employees went to the auditorium and saw that the sign was still hanging on the seat.

On the day of the third and final reported instance, the grabber had finally been caught. The boyfriend had seen the man take his place below his girlfriend's seat and ripped him out from under it, understandably ready to beat the ever-loving stuff out of him until others had broken up the fight. At that point, security and management had intervened.

This strange man – described as little and pale – had been doing this for months before he was finally caught. In at least one confirmed instance, he'd held a person's feet for the duration of an entire film, and that person never knew. Makes you wonder how many people he'd actually done it to, but who never bothered to provide feedback for these "automated footrests."

See you at the movies.

SUN-DRIED

Finnish soldiers displaying the skins of Soviet soldiers near Maaselkä, on the strand of lake Seesjärvi during Continuation War on the 15th of December in 1942. Original caption: “An enemy recon patrol that was cut out of food supplies had butchered a few members of their own patrol group, and had eaten most of them.”

SEAT'S TAKEN

In 1702, a convicted murderer named Thomas Busby was about to be hanged for his crimes. His last request was to have his final meal served at his favorite pub in Thirsk, England. He finished his meal, stood up, and said, “May sudden death come to anyone who dare sit in my chair.”

The chair remained in the pub for centuries, and patrons would often dare one another to sit in the cursed seat. During World War II, airmen from a nearby base frequented the pub, and locals noticed that the soldiers who sat in the chair would never return from war.

In 1967, two Royal Air Force pilots sat in the chair, only to crash their truck into a tree just after they left. In 1970, a mason tested his fate in the hot seat, only to die that same afternoon by falling into a hole at his job site. A year after that, a roofer who sat in it died after the roof he was working on collapsed. When the pub’s cleaning lady tripped and fell into the chair, she died shortly afterwards from a brain tumor.

This list goes on, and finally the pub owner moved the chair into the basement. Unfortunately, even in storage the chair claimed another victim. After a delivery man took a quick rest while unloading packages in the store room, he was killed in a car accident that same day.

Eventually, the pub owner donated the chair to the local museum in 1972. The museum displays the chair by hanging it five feet in the air so that no one can possibly sit in it by mistake again. Fortunately, no one has sat in the chair since. 

SCREAMED MY NAME

I moonlight as a paramedic and working EMS you will see all kinds of creepy and fucked up things. Every shift I go in I do so with the knowledge that there is a good chance my face will be the last or first thing a person sees as they leave or enter this world. The one that sends a chill up my spine though happened last year while I was still doing clinicals. We received a call to a nursing home for a unresponsive 87-year-old woman. When we picked her up it was obvious she was not long for this world. She coded three times on us before we got her to the ER. What freaked me out though was when she became responsive briefly during transport. I was starting an IV and she just sprang to life, grabbed my arm with a strength unholy for a frail old woman, looked me square in the eye and in a raspy, guttural way quietly screamed my name. The look in her eyes was unlike anything I had seen before or since. It felt like she was staring straight into my soul.

What is so disturbing about that is that during no point had I introduced myself to her as she was unresponsive. Also being a dumb student I had forgotten my ID badge that day as well. I had never worked her before as a patient, nor meet her that I can recall in any capacity. Could be she mistook me for somebody else by the same name but it sure seemed meant for me. She died less than an hour after admission. To this day I still remember everything about that call like it just happened and it makes my blood run cold to remember her face and the way she called to me. Sometimes I close my eyes and still see that face.

Story source.

REFLECTION

One cold winter night, sixteen-year-old Kelly Sanders was home alone, as her parents had gone out to a dinner party at a friend's house. It had been snowing all afternoon, but had just recently stopped. After studying for a while, she decides to relax a little - after all, she finally had the house to herself. She makes some popcorn, gets a nice warm, fuzzy blanket, and snuggles under it to watch one of her favorite movies. 

In their lounge room, the television is positioned a few feet in front of the glass sliding door that leads to the patio and backyard. 

By midnight, Kelly's parents are still not home, and she begins to feel uneasy, but refuses to call them, for risk of sounding like she couldn't take care of herself. 

Suddenly, her eye catches a glint of light from behind the TV, and right there, just outside the glass door, was a crazy-eyed man, grinning maliciously at her, and holding a long, narrow blade in his left hand. Terrified, the girl panics, pulls the blanket up over her head and grabs the cordless phone by her side. Kelly calls the police, and as luck would have it, there was a patrol car less than a block from her house. In a matter of seconds, two officers are on the scene and Kelly tells them about the armed man staring through the glass. 

The first officer opens the sliding door and looks around the area. After a few moments, she turns and explains to Kelly that there couldn't have been anyone standing out there, as there would have been footprints in the snow. The second officer tells her that she is probably just tired and her imagination was playing tricks on her. He beckoned at the TV where the horror movie she had been watching was still playing. 

"Stuff like that didn't help matters, either,'' he said smiling. 

Kelly smiled too, more at her own immaturity than the officer's remark, still a little shaken. 

As the police are about to leave, the male officer stops and looks behind the sofa that Kelly had been sitting on. His jaw drops and eyes widen in shock. Kelly and the other officer notice his reaction and follow his gaze; they both gasp. There were wet footprints and a discarded knife on the carpet behind the couch. 

Kelly hadn't seen the man outside he door; she'd seen his reflection when he was standing behind her.

WATCHING ME

"Couple months ago, my parents had a problem with their gas water heater. Gas company sends a guy out, as they have some kind of warranty. He goes down the basement, comes up later and says to my parents, 'I fixed it and it works fine. If you have any problems just call and they'll send another tech out. It won't be me because there was an old guy standing down there watching me the whole time. Bye.'"

THANKS

It's 3 a.m., and you've been up all night on a horror binge. You've watched your favorite horror movies, read your favorite scary stories, and even attempted the old "Bloody Mary" trick in your mirror. You stretch and yawn, deciding now is about the time to hit the hay, so you move into your bedroom and lay down to sleep.

After awhile, however, you realize that you can't get the images of some of the fictional creatures you saw on your TV out of your head. "Meh... I'm going to hate myself for this tomorrow", you say aloud as you flick on your bedroom lamp, knowing that having a nightlight used to help get rid of your nightmares as a little kid. Within minutes you're close to sleep, snuggled up comfortably under the blankets with your eyes closed and more pleasant thoughts on your mind.

That is, until you detect something moving in front of the light, casting a shadow over you. You blink, beginning to turn towards the lamp before a rotting hand grabs hold of your shoulder. "Thanks for turning on the light. I wouldn't have been able to find you in that darkness."

BAD DREAM

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."

You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows.
Your clock glows red in the darkness; it's 3:23.

"Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?"

"No, Daddy."

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully.
You can barely make out your daughter's pale form
in the darkness of your room.

"Why not, sweetie?"

"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream,
the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."

For a moment, you feel paralyzed;
you can't take your eyes off of your daughter.
Then, the covers shift beside you.

GOOD SHOT

Charlie Noonan was an amateur folklorist who traveled throughout the South and Southwestern United States during the early years of the 20th century, collecting tall tales and stories of the supernatural. According to his wife, Ellie, Charlie was told a story one day by an Oklahoma farmer about a strange woman who lived alone on an isolated property in the panhandle. The farmer claimed the woman was not a woman at all, but something else, something that hid its true nature beneath a headscarf and was never seen without a large dog by its side. Noonan was apparently intrigued enough to try searching for the woman during one of his research road trips. He was never seen again.

Ellie Noonan was later contacted by a Tulsa pawnbroker who remembered reading about her husband’s disappearance in the papers, after finding his name engraved on a camera sold to him by an itinerant. The pawnbroker returned the camera, and Mrs. Noonan had the film inside developed in the hopes of finding a clue as to his whereabouts. This was the only photo on the roll. Unfortunately, neither the location of the property, nor the name of the farmer who told him the story was recorded in Noonan’s notes.

Story and image source.

UNKNOWN CHILD

Recently, my town (a city in Northern Kentucky, just across the river from Cincinnati, Ohio) started “ghost tours” during the month of October. Until the late 1950s, my city used to be full of gangsters, mafia, and gamblers, so there were plenty of murders, suicides, and other weird happenings going on to ensure a history full of tragedy.

Last month, my wife, my parents and I went on this particular walk that consisted of walking around a few blocks of the city, looking at old buildings and listening to stories that took place at these locations. My parents grew up on one particular street that was included in the walk, so they were able to verify most of the stories for us. When we got in front of the building my mom grew up in, the woman guiding the tour told us a really creepy story that I’ve been trying to verify for over a month now, but I can’t seem to find any information online about it.  

As the story goes, three or four years ago in the dead of winter (I think it happened on Christmas Eve, but I’m not sure) the police found a young boy around age 10 standing outside the door of the building that used to be my mom’s apartment. A couple of murders have taken place in that building, but that’s another story for another time. Anyway, the young boy that the police found was wearing only a thin pair of shorts and nothing else. No shoes, no shirt, despite there being snow on the ground and temperatures below the freezing mark.

The police tried to ask the boy questions about where he had been, who his parents were, why he was standing there, etc., but the boy either refused to answer or said he couldn’t remember anything.

The police ended up taking him to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, and posted police bulletins throughout the county in an attempt to locate the boy’s parents and bring him home. Oddly, no one ever showed up to claim him.

After he was taken to Children’s Hospital, he began to exhibit strange and disturbing behavior and was taken to a psychiatrist where he underwent some form of psychological testing. This is where the story gets even weirder, but being as though I’m not a psychiatrist, I don’t know the exact names for terms, etc. On this particular test that he underwent that diagnosed psychoses, he was found to have scored a level of 7. Our guide then told us that Ted Bundy had undergone the same test and scored a level of only 4.

Despite being in the system now for a few years, the child has never been claimed by anyone, and has in fact begun to exhibit stranger and more disturbing behavior as the years go on. In fact, the tour guide told us that the county who has custody of the now teenager is so disturbed by his behavior that they have recommended keeping him in custody until the age of 18, and afterward transferring him to a secure location because they’re so concerned that when he is released he will harm someone.

Granted, this could have been a great spooky story that was merely intended to scare willing patrons, until a member of our group spoke up and told us that he was a psychology student at the University of Cincinnati, and that his class had been discussing this child’s case.

Last but not least, let me add one more detail. The street that we were on is reported by some paranormal societies to be one of the most “evil” streets in America, due to the number and nature of some of the deaths that have occurred there. Does the fact that this child was found in one of the most “evil” locations in the USA have anything to do with his disturbing mindset?

Story source.

FACT

When you wake up around 2-3 A.M. without any reason, there's an 81% chance that someone is staring at you.

HAND PRINT

A photograph allegedly leaked from the Erie, PA, police department appears to show a disproportionately large hand-print on a missing students dorm room window.

19 year old Elizabeth Hetzler disappeared from her dorm in Edinboro University of Pennsylvania on the night of February 12th, 2007. Her room was located on the third floor of the building, the door was locked, and there was no ledge outside her window. Her roommate awoke in the morning, having heard nothing unusual overnight and simply assumed that Elizabeth had left to go to class early. The roommate later told investigators that when she noticed the hand-print, she screamed and knew immediately that “everything Elizabeth had been talking about was true. It was real.”

The previous evening, Elizabeth had remarked to her friends that she’d had a strange experience walking back to her dorm from a late night dance rehearsal. As she made her way across campus, she gradually got the uneasy feeling that someone was watching and following her. “She seemed so relieved to be back in her room again,” her roommate said.

No trace if Elizabeth has yet been found, and investigators have called it the most baffling missing person case of their careers. Since the above image has been circulating the internet for nearly two years, it is difficult to say for certain if it is genuine, although it matches what students and investigators have described (note its size in relation to the coffee pot in the foreground). Remarked Detective Stephen Broze, “You’d think our suspect would be pretty easy to spot. He must stick out in a crowd with eleven-inch fingers.”

TRAIL CAM

A photograph was recently sent in to a Baton Rouge, Louisiana news station and has many people talking since it first appeared last week. The photo was allegedly taken by a trail cam and is, in a word, disturbing. And if you think the photo itself is creepy, wait until you hear about the circumstances behind its discovery. 

When NBC Affiliate NBC33 asked its viewers to send in their photographs, they were expecting to get a few strange holiday pictures, but nothing like the incredibly bizarre trailcam photograph they received depicting a horrific monster stalking the night in an undisclosed location and sent in by an anonymous viewer. The viewer included a note detailing the circumstances behind the image's discovery alongside the picture. According to the sender, the picture was taken by a trailcam originally set up to take photos of wild game on the premises. But then when they discovered the trail cam ripped to pieces, all they could recover from it was the device's SD card. When they examined the photos taken the previous night in an attempt to discover what could have possibly destroyed the camera, they expected to see images of teenagers or hunters poaching their land. What they discovered, was that the final image taken by the camera before it was destroyed was this strange image.

THE BITTERROOT FOOTAGE

My name is Chad. I'm a student at a university in New York. I just moved to a studio apartment and needed some furniture. I found a guy on Craigslist that wanted to desperately get rid of his things at super cheap prices so I went to check it out. He sold things in bulk to get rid of as many things as possible. I bought a small table and it came with a bunch of other random things. Some of it I gave away and some I kept.

An old wooden box caught my attention. It was locked, and out of curiosity I kept it. I had to force open the lid with a screw-driver and inside I found some old pictures.

The word 'bitterroot' was handwritten on the backs of all of them. There was also a tin can that contained a reel of film that I later learned from my friend Dario (a film student), was 8mm film.

The film was pretty damaged so I just kept it on my bookshelf as decoration, but I couldn't get the images of the pictures out of my head. I had to figure out a way to watch that film.

With help from Dario, we got an old 8mm projector in good working condition on Ebay. The film skipped in several spots so we put it together with a special tape and then watched it again. What we found was disturbing.

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ONE GOT FAT

Your typical cheesy-bad 1960s educational video...except it stars mutant monkey kids who die one by one...