Dead Aunties Society

0:04 To the restless, the insomniacs, the stressed out, the worried, and the board. This is for you. Welcome to Anxiety Addicts. Bedtime Stories, an original podcast by Joe Newman and Morgan Walsh, serving up hot, mostly true, twenty minute stories to turn off your brain and turn on your ram. The stories come from all over the Internet, whispered late at parties and from you to the bs inbox. But your secrets are safe here. All names have been changed to protect the guilty. So please sit back, relax, and send us your stories at the link in the show. Notes and sweet dreams.

0:58 Oh my god, it took me forever to get myself in front of this camera today because it is so nasty out and just so like ough, and I just want to be in bed, so I can't work. And then I was like, well, what's the ideal weather situation to allow me to work? And that high maintenance and I'm like, oh, I can't work when it's nice out because I just want to be outside and play. So I am a non contributing member to society and I don't ever want to do anything. I think is what I've learned from this. Oh my god, you guys. Sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm Joe and if you have followed me, I'm my best friend Morgan. Here to this weird little corner of the Internet where we take true stories, very short true stories, and then we build a whole world around them and create twenty minute bedtime stories to help you take your brain off of whatever you're spiraling about, whether it be Thanksgiving or the weather, or your purpose on this planet or something light like that.

1:55 That's where we like to go. We're here for you, and if you want to be here for us, it would be awesome if you would like and subscribe and rate and tell your friends, and tell the people you work with, and tell the people you don't like and the people you'd like, and the people on the gymnastics team and the hockey team and. Whatever else your day consists of. Why not? So this story is called the Dead Auntie Society, which kind of gives it away but also doesn't. And also my favorite part about the story is the last third. So I don't know where you are on this, but sit back, relax, or just put your headphones in and do some laundry, or take your dog on a walk or hide the earphones and go into a room where you would rather hear my voice on anybody else's. I'm sure that happens all the time. I feel like that's going to be really popular popular option here for our listeners. Okay, ready, this is called Dead Auntie Society.

2:52 Enjoy. It's hard to imagine what life was like one hundred and four and a half years ago when Patricia eleanor Tomlinson screamed her way into this world. Auntie Pete, as she later became known to just about everyone, was born in nineteen twenty one. That was the first year that the World Series was broadcast over the radio, when the tuberculosis vaccine was invented, the year Wonderbread launched into American kitchens, and Edith Wharton became the first woman to win the Pulitzer. With the age of innocence, obviously, life was a lot different. Auntie Pee grew up, never married, but stayed in the Saint Louis area. Like the rest of her extended family.

3:35 There were a lot of them. She believed that most of them were not the brightest bulbs on the tree, but she did have a soft spot for Connor, her niece's son, Connor, for his part, was a curly haired goofball who was starved for gossip in his own home, so he would ride his bike halfway around the block to Auntie Pea's. There, he would drink water with a splash of gin as soon as he turned fifteen, and would park himself on her ancient sofa and listen intently to who was cheating in her lady's bridge game and who did what with whom in the Saint Louis in the nineteen thirties. He loved both genres. After Auntip would spill the tea, they would watch Hitchcock movies until Connor's mom would call and demand he get his keyster home for bed. Going to bed after watching Psycho was never easy.

4:27 They had a bond. He adored her and let her know it. She adored him and let him know it by telling him how much she disliked many of the other family members. It was a perfectly symbiotic relationship, but Aunti P could still surprise him. When Connor was about twenty three, having graduated with a degree in fashion design and in a happy and committed relationship with his first boyfriend, Harley, Aunti P announced to her favorite and now favorite adjacent family that she was going to invite everyone over for Thanksgiving. The boys were taking her to a doctor's appointment in Harley's immaculate Lexus. To say Auntip loved this treatment would have been an understatement. To be fair, this woman was one hundred and four and a half. She herself had been driven home from the delivery hospital in a Ford Model T with no seat belts. No joke, but Auntie P.

5:27 Harley piped up from the driver's seat. He'd been invited to her duplex with open arms. She didn't like many different groups of people, but apparently she liked the LGBTQA plusers. It was not the greeting he was expecting. It could be hard to know how old people felt about being gay. Auntip didn't care about his gender in the slightest. She cared that he was a sharp dresser, was good to her Connor, and was absolutely won over when she saw his car. It was a very new Lexus and that was enough. Yeah, yes, st Auntip was staring out the window at a hipster smoking a vape. She shook her head in disgust, but Connor had a real question, why do you want to invite the whole family. Do you really mean everybody? You don't like everybody? Auntie p nodded her head in agreement. She was not the one to challenge the truth. I had my reasons, and anti Pe readjusted her giant iris aptal esque sunglasses and smiled. That was Auntie pea code for being done with the conversation.

6:33 The boys parked and escorted her to her appointment in the large medical complex. Harley stole a wheelchair from the lobby, and they raced her down the hallways fast enough to get yelled at by not one, but four hospital personnel. They didn't care. They knew how to have a good time. Here's the thing, said the doctor, squinting at the X ray through his wire framed glasses. Of course your back hurts. There's a fraction in your spine. On tip sniffed at the doctor. He was seventy five years younger than her, which isn't to say that she didn't respect younger people's opinions. She just didn't respect his. But I didn't fall your honor.

7:16 Only Connor and Harley could detect the smile behind her sty lottered lips. Ma'am, you don't have to call me. The boys tried not to chuckle at the visibly ruffled internest. I just don't. Think that well. Bones are supposed to last this long. Antip chewed on her dentures. She was used to this body falling apart. I needed to work a little bit longer, your majesty, until I decide I'm done. Then I'll be gone. Poof. Auntip watched an invisible cloud of smoke disappear from her frail hands. She frowned a chip in her manicure. Oh well, you see. The doctor looked frantically from one gate to the other, but Connor and Harley were enjoying the entertainment too much to interrupt this scene. The doctor managed to get some words out. I don't really think it works that way, auntiep hrunst like only a centagenarian can do, and signaled to the boys to wheel her out of the office. I'll let you know personally, she called back, her voice reminding Connor of the sound of bubble wrap that's already been popped. As she settled into her seat in the Lexus, she pulled her notepad out of her purse, handing both it and a pen she stole from Denny's to Connor, let's make a list. Thanksgiving is going to be memorable this year. The boys shared a look in the rear view mirror. Sweet potatoes, bread, rosemary, cranberries, sugar,

8:47 the real kind. Connor started writing, I will get the pie ingredients and Connor will make them. Auntie Pe, why don't I just bring the pies to your house? Auntie P shut Eye down into her favorite nephew because I said so. Connor knew enough to shut the f up, clicked the stolen Denny's pen back on and continued to transcribe Auntip's orders. A turkey for twenty two, No. Twenty five, No twenty seven. No, Connor could not keep his mouth closed. I think there's only twenty six of us. Just write down what I say. Neither Connor nor Harley caught it, but Auntip's eyes twinkled. Auntie P had become very good at a few things since she turned one hundred. One was watching daytime TV. Another was delegating. Never mind the fact that neither Connor nor Harley had agreed to cooking the massive family feast, They were each already quite busy holding down full time jobs. That didn't stop their phones from ringing in the weeks leading up to Turkey Day at any given point, starting at six thirty am until exactly eight forty five pm, when auntip finished her martini and called it a night. Before Harley's alarm had even dinged, his phone buzzed with Auntiepa's contact Harley, I need you to make sure my good floral dress is cleaned and pressed.

10:11 Harley had not been expecting such a formal dinner. I feel like your family always wears jeans, he asked, groggily, reaching for his glasses, digging himself out of dreamland. I will be looking my best. I don't care what the rest of you do. And just as fast as Auntie p had woken him up, she was off the line. The calls continued like this for weeks. At exactly noon on Thanksgiving Day, Connor and Harley opened Antipa's door. They'd set the table the night before, carrying out instructions to use the nice plates and dust off the silver. Connor made a roaring fire in the living room, Harley put on show tunes, and the house was soon toasty and filled with all the right smells. The old lady and the gaze. All dressed to the nines were polite. As the mudroom began to pile high with boots and family members from all over town filled the house. Connor pulled a magazine looking turkey out of the oven and looked over to Auntip for approval. Aunty P looked at her watch.

11:11 That's right, she said, Now you let it rest for twenty minutes. Put the rest of the dishes on the sideboard, and Connor, you and your cousin Eli come get me when that timer goes off. I'm gonna go have a little lie down. Connor hadn't liked cousin Eli since he made fun of his new corduroy pants a decade prior, and frowned. Harley caught the look and took his boyfriend's elbow. You can't hold a grudge this long. Look at him. He has no style. Connor grudgingly agreed to not hold a grudge and set the timer on his arms counter. When it dinged, he called into the living room above the cocophony of the battle Hawks game, dinner's ready, and then, still with a little grudge left in his hand, he tapped cousin Eli's shoulder. Let's go get her. The boys walked up the creaking stairs and knocked gently on Auntiepe's door.

12:05 There was no answer. Auntie Pe Connor called the room was silent. Connor crept up to her armchair and turned it around. The site wasn't as bad as the scene in Psycho, but that was because she had just died. What do you mean she's did? Connor and Eli shrugged at Auntie Susan, still in a state of shock and out of breath from running down the stairs. Harley took the news delivery with more gravity than the others. She is no longer alive. Connor tried not to laugh to himself.

12:46 Auntie P often commented about how slow Susan was on the uptake. I'm coming nine one one, Susan screamed, above the family's commotion. She rushed to the phone, a breath away from fully hyperventilating, and dialed nine one one with the aplome of an almost forty actress who has long awaited her close up. Auntie P had the volume up on the receiver turned as high as humanly possible, which meant all twenty something people packed into the Tomlinson kitchen could overhear the entirety of the conversation. It went something like this, nine one one, what's your emergency? Susan's breath came out like it was riding on a chainsaw. Well, our Auntie appears to be deceased. Susan vomited up the news as if she expected God to screech the world to a halt. Needless to say, she was grossly disappointed by the professional response. Is she breathing? What is the nature of the accident? No, I don't. I don't think she's breathing. Susan looked around the kitchen like a feral animal assessing danger.

13:59 Cut her. Is she breathing now? Look? Connor was mostly devastated. Unfortunately or fortunately, he had a wickedly good sense of humor, and it didn't take much distance for him to silently acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. No, aunt Susan, she's not breathing. That's how we know she died. She looks peaceful, though. Aunt Susan shot daggers with her eyes through Connor's skull. That was apparently not the answer she was looking for. She is not breathing, Auntie. Susan yelled loudly enough into the phone to cause both the dispatcher and her colleagues irreparable ear damage. Ma'am, was there an accident? Aunt Susan's face contorted to seething rage and absolute disbelief at the sheer audacity of the woman on the other end of the line. Connor, was there an accident?

14:58 We don't know for certain, but we can easily imagine the dispatcher turning down the volume on her headset Auntie Susan. She was one hundred and four and a half. The doctors are always surprised when she shows up for an appointment. Also, I know this sounds crazy, but I think she might have. At the mention of something sounding crazy, the entire Tomlinson family silenced themselves and turned to Connor, who found himself in his favorite place, the center of attention, but with his least favorite audience any family member. That was an antip and that's when the dual wave of conflicting emotions crushed him, drowning out his senses, enveloping him in the explosive need to both laugh and cry at the same time.

15:44 Connor doesn't know what kind of sound he made, but the youngest cousins are most likely scarred for life. I think she planned it. The silence in the kitchen dropped from quiet to an unimaginable degree of nothingness. It was as if they were all sharing a moment for antip a second of collective consciousness and grief, a flash of oneness, humor and appreciation, togetherness for the wild old lady who brought them all together for a party and then died in the middle of it. The flicker of beauty only lasted a second. She was over one hundred, and the kids think she planned it now. The dispatcher wasn't thrilled to begin with. She was stuck working on Thanksgiving of all days, and would have rather been under the covers with the guy she met at the gym and her cat.

16:34 But here she was answering a call that sounded like God had already answered. All right, ma'am, look because this is a holiday and not an emergency. Oh, those were the wrong words to say to Susan, who we really should have named Karen for the purposes of this story. What do you mean not an emergency, the dispatcher sighed. The Tomlinson family couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, and most of them stood there emotionally pinballing and the purgatory of opposite feelings. Well, ma'am, let's see, it's Thanksgiving, so we have a small number of officers on duty. You have one hundred and four year old deceased person who seems to have died peacefully from natural causes. We will get someone there as soon as we can, but I'm going to be real with you, it's going to take a few hours. This is probably not necessary to add.

17:28 But as you can imagine, Susan did not love this answer. So what do you want me to do? The dispatcher sighed, thinking about Jim Guy. You can cover her with a sheet out of respect, say a few meaningful words, and be thankful at your table for the life that you have. The dispatcher was both surprised and proud of the words escaping her lips. Susan turned to the Tomlinson clan wild eyed. She says, we should have our dinner, and that is wow. The Tomlinson family sat down to the biggest meal of their lives, with a dead auntiepe in the rocking chair upstairs in the sitting room, conjuring up obvious images of the Hitchcock movie Psycho. As the family silently passed around the green beans, stuffing and cranberry sauce with real sugar, Connor felt moved to stand up at his place and clink his spoon against the water glass. I just well, I want to say a few words. Well her words, and Connor took the stain torn, splattered recipe for pies out of his back pocket, and there, with Harley by his side, Aunt Susan shunned the corner and his entire extended family listening intently, Connor read Antipe's pie recipe that she had shoved in his hand earlier that morning. To this day, he doesn't know why, but after he finished reading bake at four twenty five for fifty five minutes, he felt the urge to turn the paper over. There

19:01 An Antipe's cursive was a note. Connor cleared his throat. I didn't want y'all only getting together from my funeral, So have a good Thanksgiving. Don't cut the pies until they're cool, or you'll screw it all up. And yes, for those of you wondering, yes, of course I will be haunting you. Love Antip, Thank you, for whoever sent this one in and sweet dreams, and please if you don't mind liking, subscribing, and sharing, those are our love language and we appreciate it. Have good night.

20:04 Thanks for listening to anxiety addicts bedtime stories. We're here to help you take your mind off whatever is making you spiral by listening to a story about someone else's hilarious or mortifying experience, and we know you have your own. Please DM or email your stories of bad decisions, miscommunications, and Murphy's law. Your support helps us keep doing what we love and don't forget to like, rate and subscribe, and as always, sweet dreams. This episode was written and recorded by Joe Newman, with editing and sound designed by Morgan Walsh.