Robert Stack appears seemingly from nowhere. He speaks. You quiver.
Trench coats. You'll never be able to look at those the same way again. It begins.
It's a story about how one man became close with his boss, moved into his house, and locked him in the basement, letting him starve to death while taking over his identity.
This is obviously going to happen to you.
Your house is also on an Indian burial ground and you never knew it.
At some point in your life, you will be abducted by aliens.
Your living room will be taken over by a bunch of Civil War–era ghosts.
Hi, from the La-Z-Boy.
Hi, from your bed.
Hi, standing there with a jug.
Hi, from next to you on the couch.
Outside your window.
Someday, these people will eat you.
There's a note waiting outside your front door.
Digging a hole? Cool. You'll find some weird-ass creature thing that will give you and your family bad luck for all eternity.
And don't forget, you probably have a long-lost twin somewhere just waiting to be reunited with you.
You may also be a twinless twin. No idea what the fuck that even means but you probably have one/it.
This man is hiding in your garage.
Under your bed.
In the back seat of your car.
Staring at you and you can't even see him.
Never go hiking. Bigfoot is real.
That chair in your living room? It's haunted as fuck and ruining your life.
Will rob you.
Here's an artist's depiction of the aliens that will be paying a visit to you soon.
This is Debby. She's your unassuming neighbor. She will hear your screams.
"Sharon Johnson" will be a witness.
Dorothy, a psychic, will tell cops where your body is. She will be wrong.
