April 1, 2026

Fooled Ya: April Fools Horror Story - A Deadly Prank!

Fooled Ya: April Fools Horror Story - A Deadly Prank!
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Looking for the perfect April Fools Day horror story? Tonight on Weekly Spooky, a skeptical researcher chasing mysterious ley lines, haunted roads, and strange energy finds himself lured to a remote castle where nothing is what it seems. What begins like a campy gothic prank quickly spirals into a bizarre night of vampires, werewolves, dark comedy, and supernatural terror.

This creepy and funny monster story blends classic horror movie vibes, eerie folklore, and an April Fools twist that turns a joke into a nightmare. If you love scary stories, gothic horror, cryptids, old-school monster movies, haunted castles, and supernatural suspense, this one is for you. Hit play and spend April 1st with a story that feels equal parts Hammer Horror, midnight creature feature, and wicked practical joke from hell.

Fooled Ya โ€” by Douglas Waltz

๐ŸŽง LISTEN NOW and subscribe for spine-tingling horror stories every week!

๐ŸŽ‰ Unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show on Patreon!
๐Ÿ‘‰ WeeklySpooky.com/Join

๐Ÿ“ฌ Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!


๐ŸŽต Music by Ray Mattis ๐Ÿ‘‰ Check out Rayโ€™s incredible work here !
๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ’ผ Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
๐ŸŽฅ Produced by: Daniel Wilder
๐ŸŒ Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com
WEBVTT

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He followed a strange lay line into the dark and

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found a castle that shouldn't exist, a beautiful stranger begging

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for help, and a monster problem that was all fun

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in games until it wasn't. Now alive or dead. Someone

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will be the fool.

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What's that you want to be scared? Come with me?

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He will experience tales of over over ghosts and it

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is not recommended for the weeded art listeners in the

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dark park. It's more fun that way way way. This

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is Weekly Speaking.

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Hello, my spookys. It's Wednesday, and you know what that means.

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It's time for a little spooky in your weekly I'm

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your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and tonight we have

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quite the story for you, because well it's April Fool's

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Day and all of our guards are up. But perhaps

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we should be even more on alert than we are.

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But before we get to that, I want to say

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thank you all so much for joining us here at

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Weekly Spooky. We bring you something scary every single week,

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well multiple times a week, and we're happy to have

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you here. People who believe that Halloween is not just

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a once a year kind of gig. It's every single week,

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So thank you so much for joining us, and if

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you're new here, make sure you say subscribe on your

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favorite podcast app and leave us a five star rating

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to let other spookies know they're in the right place.

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And if you love what we're doing and want to

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support us directly and get bonus episodes as a reward,

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head to weeeklyspooky dot com slash join For as little

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as one dollar a month. You get two bonus episodes

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every month and over five years of exclusive creepy pasta readings, audiobooks,

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and so much more at Weeklyspooky dot Com slash Join.

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But now, as for tonight, April Fool's Day is supposed

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to be all fun and games, a harmless trick, a

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nervous laugh, a moment of panic that melts away the

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second you realize someone got you good. But what happens

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when the joke doesn't end. What happens when the road

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is too dark, the castle is too real, the smiling

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faces wait inside seem like they know something you don't. Tonight,

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a man chasing strange mysteries finds himself lured off the

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highway and into a nightmare. Dressed like a prank, a

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beautiful stranger begs for help, a monster waits below, and

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every answer only makes the whole thing more complicated, because

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the scariest part isn't being laughed at, it's realizing you

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were never in on the joke at all. Fooled you

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by Douglas Waltz. I study lay lines. For those of

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you that are ignorant of this particular phenomenon, let me

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fill you in. Lay lines were initially lines between objects

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of significance like Stoneha and the Great Pyramids of Giza.

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Any self respecting scientists will give you a funny look

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if you mention them, but they are real. I began

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my studies back in the early seventies, and it wasn't

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long before I set about proving that North America had

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its own lay lines. Using a device I fashioned myself,

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I traveled the highways and byways searching for these ever

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elusive lines of a power not of this world. Twenty

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years later, I discovered a huge lay line that occurred

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between the state lines of Indiana and Ohio. It shot

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straight up through the middle of Michigan, into the Upper

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Peninsula and headed for the North Pole. I have a

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theory that the magnetic North Pole had something to do

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with the sheer power of that particular lay line. So

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I set about mapping the line, and weeks later, just

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after I had passed Lancing the state Capitol and through

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Grayciat and Clinton Township, that I found myself in Isabella

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County and the lay line was acting strange. You see,

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lay lines are painfully straight, little to no variance to

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where it's going, which is why when it made a

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sudden ninety degree turn, I was flabbergasted. Lay lines do

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not ever do that. Of course, that fact didn't stop

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it from doing exactly that, So like any good scientist,

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I followed the line. It started to get dark outside,

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and the road that the line was near became nothing

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more than a glorified cowpath. But even with the dark

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of night, there was still plenty of time left in

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the day, so I continued on, feeling every bump on

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the road in my poor back. Then the light from

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my high beams caught a glimpse of something, a small

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turn off of the road that led to it was

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a castle, an actual castle that had no business being there.

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Curiosity got the better of me, and I took the turn.

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I half expected lightning to illuminate the stone structure. As

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I got closer and closer, it really looked like the

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castle from bram Stoker's Dracula, the Francis Ford Coppola version.

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I pulled up to a pair of gigantic wooden doors,

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grabbed my device and a flashlight, and got out of

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the car to see if I could get into the castle.

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That was when I heard a cry for help. I

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turned to see who could be making that noise, and well,

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the day was full of surprises. A tall, buxome woman

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in a white blouse down at the shoulders and a

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long flowing green skirt. That's right, I was being approached

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by an extra from a hammer horror film. Her chest

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managed to defy gravity in impossible fashion, and seconds later

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she slammed into me her ample bosom, making a comfortable

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cushion as she sank into my arms and swooned, nearly fainting.

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What seems to be the problem, young lady, Oh master,

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you have arrived in the nick of time. Soon the

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creature will leave its sleeping place and lay waste to

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the village. Sure, why not? After all, this anachronistic dwelling

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is on a major lay line. What the sudden blank

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look told me that my terrible pun had fallen flat.

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Never mind, so monsters, you say, yes, Master, the undead

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scourge has plagued my village for decades. Now you have

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arrived to help us destroy the vampire. I took a

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quick glance around for this village she kept referring to,

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and there was no sign of it at all. And

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now she's telling me there's a vampire. I may believe

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in some odd thing, but vampires aren't one of them.

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Bigfoot I believe in, but I draw the line at vampires. Come, Master,

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I will take you to the dungeons where his coffin

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dust lie dost who says dust anymore? And now she

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expects me to kill something I don't even believe in.

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But her sweater puppies pressing against my chest were making

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it hard to focus on anything. Won't I need something

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to kill this vampire? With wooden steak or something. Yes, Master,

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all you require is in the castle. Isn't the vampire

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in there? Yes? Master, deep in the dungeon, sleeping the

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sleep of the dead. Plenty of time to complete your task.

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Then she got closer and wiggled seductively as she looked

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up at me. With her large, round eyes. Then will

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come your reward. My heart skipped a beat and I

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coughed a reward. Huh, okay, let's go point the way

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to this dastardly vampire. She led me to a smaller

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door that was part of one of the large ones.

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The inside of the castle was gloomy, with a few

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torches in wall sconces. Then I heard the clipping noise

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of leather heels on stone floors. I braced myself as

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from out of the shadows came a man with a

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black top hat, dressed in the finest Victorian era suit

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I had ever seen. Large pipe was balanced between his lips.

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As he approached, I turned to look at the girl

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who had talked me into this nonsense. I thought you

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said he was sleeping. Her face became a mask of

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confusion and quickly turned into one of glee as she laughed.

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The high pitched cackling echoed throughout the room. Oh he's

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not the vampire. He's my father. We live in the castle,

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you do, I thought you lived in the village. Village.

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What village? She gave me the confused look again, you

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know what? Never mind, so dad, you seem fit enough

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to handle the vampire? Why am I the one doing

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the dirty work? Here? A side glance at the beautiful

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maiden told me why. But I sure as hell wasn't

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going to tell tall, dark and creepy that. Ah, the

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lank gentleman began in a deep baritone voice. I'm afraid

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I wouldn't be much help. You wouldn't, would you? A?

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Why pray? Tell? Is that? With a totally serious straight face,

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he said, simply terrified of the things. The mere sight

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of them sends me screaming through the castle looking for refuge.

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You're telling me you can't kill this bloodsucker because you're

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afraid of it. Don't you live here? That's true, but

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it lives in the dungeon, and my quarters are upstairs.

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I keep the door tightly locked. Good for you, Pops.

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Your room don't got any windows? Certainly? What stops the

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vampire from coming in through the window? What do you mean?

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Does your vampire turn into a bat? Oh? Yes, all

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the time. It can be quite annoying. Drusilla is afraid

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he'll get stuck in her hair. Drusilla? Who's Drusilla? That's me,

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the village girl with the amazing talents. Piped up named

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to match the face. I thought to myself, whatever I

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said louder than I intended to, back to the bat,

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can't it just fly into the window of your room?

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The man's face dropped a foot at the question. Oh my,

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I guess I hadn't considered that. I'm amazed that he

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hasn't drained you both dry. Let's get this over with, Drusilla.

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Where's the vampire killing equipment you mentioned? She led me

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by the hand to a large chest on a table.

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I opened it and couldn't prevent the gasp of amazement.

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This box was packed with vampire killing on the brain.

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There was the classic steak and mallet, a small bottle

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that could only be holy water, and a large crucifix.

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I put the bottle in my front left pocket and

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put the crucifix in my back left pocket. The heft

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of it told me it was probably solid gold. After

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this all was over, I was keeping that for my troubles.

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That and a roll in the hay with Drusilla, and

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I figured that I would be pretty well square with

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these nut jobs. We left Dad behind and headed for

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the dungeon. I had never seen so many cobwebs in

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my life. I grabbed a torch and used the fire

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to clear a path to the bowels of the castle.

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I was astonished at how much it looked like the

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dungeon from the Dracula with Bela Lagosi. It even had

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an armadillo. I never understood what a Texas armadillo was

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doing in a Transylvanian castle, or a Michigan one, for

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that matter. Finally we reached the coffin, on an ornate

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pedestal in the middle of the room. I carefully opened

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the lid and stood dumbfounded for a moment. Lying in

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the coffin was a swarthy man with black pants and

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a billowy blue shirt opened at the chest. Nice of

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him to make the job easier with the open shirt,

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but it just seemed wrong. Sure, who am I to

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tell a vampire how to dress? I really expected something formal,

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like a tuxedo, you know, Bela Lagosi. I thought. I

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saw him begin to stir, and there's no time like

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the present. So I placed the point of the steak

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on his chest and hammered away, driving it in at

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least six inches. Six inches seemed more than adequate. Then

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the dungeon was filled with an unearthly howl. I didn't

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know what to expect. This was my first time killing

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a vampire, after all, but nothing could have prepared me

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for what was in the coffin. The man was grinning

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and kind of fiddling with the steak for a brief

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moment before yanking it out bloodless and threw it across

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the room. Pretty sure he hit the armadillo with it.

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I had no words for this situation. Speechless, the man

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in the coffin asked, I nodded, Well, you see, I'm

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not a vampire. I'm a werewolf. A what a were wolf?

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A lichenthrope? If you prefer and wooden steaks do nothing

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to a were wolf? You bring any silver bullets, No, sir,

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I did not. I seem to have been misinformed. I

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glared at Drusilla, who wouldn't make eye contact with me.

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So no vampire. Oh sure, May I ask where he

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might be? I can see if I can manage to

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get that steak away from that armadillo. The werewolf patted

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his belly and grinned. I ate him, You ate him?

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I exclaimed, Yeah, see, werewolves and vampires are mortal enemies. Well,

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immortal enemies, and you ate him. The werewolf nodded vigorously,

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and that was when I noticed that he was becoming

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harrier by the minute. If I was going to get

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out of here, I needed to I needed to come

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up with a plan. Then the werewolf gestured for me

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to come closer. I have no idea why, but then

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he leaned into my ear and whispered, April fool. I

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stood up and felt the fetid breath against my neck

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and knew the vampire was right behind me, leaning in

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for the kill. Then a loud, frying sound filled the air.

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Smoke whirled behind me. The werewolf's eye bugged out in amazement,

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and Drusilla screamed. It seemed that the large golden crucifix

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in my back pocket had come in to direct contact

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with the vampire's nether regions. What have you done, Drusilla

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screamed and rushed to the vampire's side. The werewolf started

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laughing again. I should have run, it was the perfect time,

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but I had to know. I stared at Drusilla. She

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spilled her guts. Okay, so I may have lied. My

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poor sweet baby needs to eat, and what red blooded

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man can resist these milk cannons? She looked down. So

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did I. Then, with a flash, I walked towards the

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two of them, thrust the crucifix into the vampire pants

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and knocked Drusilla out with the mallet I had never

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let go of. I leaped up the stairs three at

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a time and made a bee line for the front door.

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Dad was waiting for me, and when I told him

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the vampire was right behind me, he let out a

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shrill scream and made his way quickly up the stairs

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to his room. The last thing I heard before I

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rushed out the door was the immense, unholy groan of

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the vampire as he shrieked. My cock got the trusty

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car started and jolted back the way I came towards civilization.

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I'd pick up the trail of the lay line in

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the morning. April Fools my ass, I muttered, as the

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castle continued to shrink in my rear view mirror. And that,

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my spookyes, is why on April Fool's Day you should

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never trust a pretty smile in a lonely castle, and

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never wait around to learn whether the joke has fangs.

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Some pranks end with a laugh, others end with somebody

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running for the door while the punchline starts screaming back.

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Big thank you to Douglas Waltz for a great April

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Fool's Day story. He always delivers the laughs with the

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horror goodness. And if you like your chills with a

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side of legend, don't miss this Friday on the Weekly

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Spooky Feed when we bring back our twenty twenty five

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deep dive into Resurrection Mary, Chicago's Vanishing Hitchhiker Legend, an eerie,

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engrossing trip through one of America's most famous ghost stories.

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It's the kind of episode you'd kick yourself for missing,

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so stop by Friday and give it a listen. And

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I'd like to say a very special thank you to

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our Patreon podcast boosters, folks who go to Weeklyspooky dot

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com slash join and sign up at fifteen dollars a

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month or higher to hear their name at the end

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of the show. And they are Johnny nixs Kate and Lulu,

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Jessica Fuller, Mike A. Skewey, Jenny Green, Amber Hansford, Karen

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we Met, Jack Kerr, and Craig Cohen. Thank you all

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so much, and if you want to hear your name

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00:22:26.279 --> 00:22:28.880
at the end of the program, just head to Weeklyspooky

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00:22:28.960 --> 00:22:31.480
dot com slash join and sign up at the fifteen

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00:22:31.559 --> 00:22:34.200
dollars a month or hire mark. You'll also get two

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00:22:34.240 --> 00:22:37.640
bonus shows every month and over five years of exclusive

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creepypasta readings and audiobooks, and support the show very directly.

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I do appreciate it a whole lot. I hope you're

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all having a great beginning to your spring. I hope

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you're not getting pranked too hard, and I'll just get

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back to work scaring you all. So for myself, for

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my executive producers Bobbotopia dot com and Rob Fields, for

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my producer Dan Wilder, and of course my creepy composer

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Ray Maddis, I'll be talking at you next time. No foolan',

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no foolan'.

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Thank you for listening to me. Make sure to find

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your way back next week week. But for now you

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are safe, trust me.