I’m a Paranormal Investigator. This Is the One Recording I’ll Never Release | Part 1

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Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep 25 min 4 speakers 5 chapters transcribed 2 months ago
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What is the main topic discussed in this episode?

James Turnbow 0:04
The full three-part series of I'm a Paranormal Investigator is live on Patreon right now. Start your seven-day free trial of Dr. No Sleep Premium to hear all three parts instantly. No delays, no waiting. Cancel any time, no commitment. Just go to patreon.com slash drnosleep to sign up. The link is also in the description below. That's patreon.com slash drnosleep. Part 1 The Warning The beer is cheap, but the conversation is lucrative. Or would be if I were an unethical bastard who wants the world to burn. Which I'm not, for the record. I most certainly am not. Is there a price that could change my mind? With what I have? No. Never. Like I said, I have no desire to see the world burn. The burden is mine, and mine alone.
James Turnbow 1:01
Annoyed with me, Knots picks up a tortilla chip and dips it into the runny poop this place calls bean dip. Why anyone would order bean dip from a bar that thinks Budweiser is snobbish, I don't know. But, hey, there is guts, not mine.
Knots (Knott) 1:18
You know you probably won't ever see this kind of green again, right?
James Turnbow 1:21
Knotts asks around a mouthful of mush. He swallows hard, and his eyes bug out. Pounding his own chest a few times, I watch as he struggles to get the painful mouthful down. Man, that went sideways. Ow. We've been over this, Knotts. The recording isn't for sale. I'd destroy the damn thing if it wasn't for... I trail off as I think of what's on that recording, and why I can't delete it. Knots rolls his eyes. He's always considered me overdramatic.

Why does Duncan refuse to sell the mysterious recording?

James Turnbow 1:52
I call it being healthily cautious and not a reckless moron. Also, there's that world is gonna burn thing. He chip dips and shoves the whole thing into his mouth in one bite, having learned nothing from his previous attempt at eating the abominable stuff. I sip my lukewarm, off-brand gutter beer and try not to shudder at the metallic taste. It's like sucking on a penny attached to a battery, but with less flavor. Why does this guy want the recording so bad anyway? How'd he even hear about it? Knots shrugs like he doesn't know. My turn to roll my eyes. He laughs, clears his throat and says, The guy is a collector. You'd know his name if I said it, but I've been sworn to secrecy. Even more reason to say no.
James Turnbow 2:37
Sounds sketchy. And sketchy guys get people hurt. Oh, get off your damn high horse, Crowley! Knots nearly shouts, calling me by the nickname I despise. He must see the anger on my face because he waves a chip at me, splattering bean dip across the booth's table. Chill out, I'm just kidding, Duncan. I hate that name. What, Duncan? That's your name? No, asshole, Crowley. I hate that name. I know, I know. That's why I apologized.
Knots (Knott) 3:08
Jesus, Duncan, you need to learn to relax.
James Turnbow 3:11
I push my beer out of the way and lean on the table, fixing a very serious glare at Knott's. Relax? Did Luca get to relax? Or Angie? Or Bear? Knotts blanches at our former colleague's names. I utter a small, disgusted laugh. Maybe think for a second before you start spending all that money you don't deserve. That pisses Knotts off. The guy may be a weasel, but even he has his limits.
Knots (Knott) 3:37
Don't deserve? Really? How do you figure that?
James Turnbow 3:41
He stands up, grabs the bowl of bean dip and dumps it over my head.
Knots (Knott) 3:44
Eat shit, Duncan. How dare you throw their names in my face like that? They were my friends, too.
James Turnbow 3:51
All I can do is sit here with shitty bean dip running down my face as he downs his drink, slams the empty glass onto the table, and storms off, leaving me with the bill.
Three Fingers of Whiskey 4:00
Asshole!
James Turnbow 4:01
I shout after him, but he's already gone, the bar's door closing after him. The few patrons in the dive give me a quick once-over, then return to their own misery. Snagging a wad of napkins from the dispenser at the end of the table, I start cleaning myself up. You might as well wash off in the sink, the waitress says as she comes by to grab the empty glasses. I'll clean the booth. You wash that crap out before it sets. Trust me. You don't want that dip to set. Okay. Thanks. Sorry about the mess. Oh, it's fine. At least none of this came out of an orifice. So it's not the worst I've cleaned up today, I can tell you that.

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