Boredom Can Be Deadly: Scary Phone Horror Story | He Called a Bathroom Wall Number and It Ruined His Life

0:00 He was bored alone and staring at a phone number scratched into a bathroom wall. One call later, his phone knew his thoughts, offered him a fortune and sent him on a mission that should have gotten him killed. The worst part it was only the beginning. What's that you want to be scared? He Come with me. You will experience tales of over our ghosts and death.

0:43 It is not recommended for the weeded art listeners in the dark ark. It's more fun that way way way. This is Weekly Speaking. Hello, my spookies. It's Wednesday, and you know what that means. It's time for a little spooky in your weekly. I'm your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and I have quite the terror tale to share with you here tonight. But before we get to that, I want to say thank you so much from the bottom of my dark heart for joining me. You're one of those spookies who really needs Halloween all year long, just like me. Well, you're in the right place, so make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app. And if you love what we're doing and you've been here a while, head to Weeklyspooky dot com slash join and get two bonus episodes every month for as little as one dollar. The support means a lot and helps us keep the show going and going as we catapult towards episode four hundred in the coming weeks. But more about that later. That's weekly spooky

2:14 dot com slash joy. Over eighty other spookies have signed up, and now would be the best time to join them, But now as for tonight. Sometimes the worst decisions don't happen in haunted houses, dark forests, or lonely back roads. Sometimes they happen in the most ordinary place imaginable, when you're bored, distracted, and just curious enough to do something stupid. A number on a wall, a phone in your hand, a voice on the other end that seems to know an awful lot, and before long, one harmless little call becomes a waking nightmare of secret technology, deadly orders, and a trap that may have already claimed more victims than anyone could count. Because some numbers aren't written down by accident, and some calls can change your life forever, that is, if they don't end it first. Boredom can be deadly.

3:40 By Michael Kelso, I'm writing this letter as a warning. Parts of it you won't believe, but it's all true. It all goes back to when I was sitting in a bathroom stall bored. People say you can't die from boredom. I might just prove them wrong. For a good time call if you want the greatest? Hey, baby, you wanna Why doesn't anyone ever write Hemingway on the bathroom walls? At least that would be worth reading while nature takes its course, especially since I always seem to have a problem with downloading files when I don't have something to read.

4:30 I was just about to give up when I noticed another number written very small in the seam of the concrete five five, five four three two one. No name, No promises of a good time that would keep your local clinic in business, only a number. I'm intrigued. I typed the number into my phone. My thumb hovered over the send button. Do I or don't? I not being done with my business yet, I decided what the hell and I pressed the button. My phone flashed and then went dead. Are you kidding me? I pushed the button and it came back on. I listened and the line was ringing. After a series of clicks, I heard code in I was about to hang up, when the little devil on my shoulder said, go ahead. What do you have to lose? Like a fool? I listened Alpha Tango lima one one seven, I said, I think I remembered it from some spy movie. The line was silent for

6:03 a long moment. Stand by, the voice said, after a few more clicks, objective updated, proceed with caution. Then the line went dead. Objective What objective? I stared at my phone as it lit up with a picture of a middle aged, balding man with a large beard and an even larger set of chins underneath it. Who the hell is that? As if responding to my thoughts, the picture was replaced by a detailed profile Jonathan Moresby, age fifty nine, height five foot four, weight three hundred and twenty four pounds, divorced twice, no children. On and on it went, telling me the details of this person's life. I started to get bored until I read the last word, terminate. I nearly dropped my phone. Terminate, Are you freaking serious? Yes?

7:21 The display read you wanted to play spy? Here's your chance? You can read my thoughts. Yes. I suddenly had a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. It was unnerving, but on the plus side, knowing someone was reading my thoughts helped me finish my business. After I washed my hands, I had a little conversation with my newly claravoyant phone. What are you going to do if I refuse your dastardly little deed? My phone flashed to my personal bank account. The balance showed two hundred and seven dollars. Suddenly it flashed to zero, then to one million, two hundred and seven dollars. Your choice. I went home to torture myself over the decision to take a man's life or not. I didn't sleep well that night in my dingy little bed in my dingy little apartment, so I got up for a glass of milk. Damn it, it's sour. I slammed the refrigerator shut so hard the

8:52 door fell off. Are you kidding me? Hey? Shut up up there, yelled the jerk that lived downstairs. I stomped on purpose. How do you like that? Just then the floor gave out under my foot and I sank up to my knee and the floor. He'll pay for that, the jerk yelled up at the bottom of my foot. I pried it loose and limped to the bedroom. I turned on my phone and thought, I'll do it. Instantly, A map popped up, along with blueprints of a house.

9:38 I got dressed and said goodbye to my crappy life. So what do I use? Directions flashed up to a bus station, a locker, and a combination. I hopped in my beat up old car and turned the key. The engine struck and coughed, like a long time smoker, sputtering to life. I fought between desperation, greed, and fear as my mind came to grips with the path I had set myself on. Before I knew it, I found myself opening the locker. Inside it was a small semi automatic pistol.

10:26 My eyes darted around to see if anyone had noticed my deadly acquisition. Satisfied that the few denizens of the bus station had better things to do, like holding down the benches with their drunken bodies, I held up the gun inside the locker and stared at it. The only other object in the locker was a set of keys. The van is parked out back license one, two, three, four or five? Can I Can I really do this?

11:07 Then my phone showed me a very graphic video of the man sexually abusing a small child. Son of directions to the house showed again. I found the van exactly where it was supposed to be. The keys unlocked it and fit in the ignition. I started it up and paused, this was real. This wasn't some prank someone was pulling on me. I was on my way to kill a man I didn't even know. I'm amazed I wasn't pulled over for speeding. I arrived at the address. It was a mansion. Hit figures, I thought, piece of trash Chester, live in the high life. Not for long, the phone said.

12:15 I pulled up to an iron gate with a digital voice recognition box. Hold me up to the box, the phone said, I did, and a voice came out, Jonathan Moresby, it said. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the gate swung slowly open. Unbelievable. Pull the van around back like you're making a delivery. The back door had a security scanner. Hold me up to it. The door lock clicked open. I hesitated, shouldn't I be wearing gloves or something?

13:00 What about fingerprints? Hold on the phone said, I am erasing your fingerprints from the police database. You may proceed. I opened the door and entered the kitchen. The smells from a recently cooked meal sent my belly into a full rumble. Let's see what's in the fridge. No, this isn't snack time. Stay focused, the phone said. I set it down and pulled out a bottle of wine. Even better, the phone started buzzing, but I just ignored it. I'll get there. Don't get your transistors in a twist. I'm just having a little liquid courage. The phone buzzed even louder, then suddenly stopped. I turned to see a large, bald man in a pair of green and white striped pajamas.

14:01 He looked like a giant watermelon. I would have laughed, but he was pointing a gun at me. My phone started buzzing again. Shoot him, it said. He glanced at the phone just long enough for me to pull my gun out and squeeze the trigger. Nothing happened. I squeezed the trigger over and over, but all it did was click. The watermelon man was glaring at me with a cheshire Cat grin plastered on his face. The thing about guns is they need a firing pin to shoot, he said.

14:44 I looked at the gun like it had betrayed me. Here, let me show you, he said. Then he fired his pistol, and my right shoulder erupted in agony. I collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. The wine bottle shattered beside me. As I lay on the floor, blood pooling around me. I managed to croak out why his belly bounced. He was laughing so hard it would have been comical if I weren't bleeding. It's a little hobby of mine. I'm weeding out the stupid people of the world, one at a time. Consider it thinning the herd. I've written that number all over in places I don't even remember. I've been doing this for years. He would be amazed how many people I've thinned. The police, they'll catch you. That sent him into another fit of laughter. Thanks for reminding me.

15:57 He pulled a phone out of his pocket. Hello police, he said, in a shaky tone. There's a burglar in my house. Oh my god, he's got a gun. He fired a shot and hung up the phone. Any other questions, yes, I said, through gritted teeth. How did you read my mind with my phone? Dear boy? I own a telecommunications company. It's a feature we've been putting in phones for years. We have the technology to read brain waves. It's only a matter of interpreting them. Of course, we've told no one about this, not even the government. You'd be amazed how many people barely question it. Not only have I gotten disgustingly rich reading thoughts of important people, but I've also gotten the rabble like you to do some of the most unconsciable things you could imagine. Only three people in the world know anything about it, and none of them are talking. But I've grown tired of this game, and the police are on the way, so I need a kill shot. There's just one thing you didn't think of, I said, through gritted teeth. Oh, do tell I've had

17:33 my phone on voice recorders since I walked in the door. He glanced at the phone laying on the table. Most inconvenient, however, thank you for letting me know. When he reached for the phone, I lunged with all my strength and slashed at him with a piece of the wine bottle. My wild swing embedded the shard in his leg. He squealed in pain and dropped to the floor on impact. The gun flew out of his hand. I clamored to get it, but he grabbed my leg, tripping me. I fell face down and hit my head on the floor hard. I woke to the sound of policemen telling me not to move.

18:23 They cuffed me, causing pain to shoot through my shoulder. As they hauled me out, I looked back at my attacker and there was a large pool of blood underneath him. Another officer checked his pulse. He's gone, damn it. I didn't get to gloat during the trial. I had found out that I hit his femoral artery. He bled out before the cops had gotten there. My testimony about the phone that could read thoughts landed me in a mental health hospital. My attorney refused to defend me after that.

19:05 My only visitor had been a representative from the telecommunications company. Astounding, he said, you say the phone could actually read your mind, Yes, and it would respond to me. Amazing. Of course, I'm only a low level investigator, but you've given me something to search for something like that in the wrong hands, I said, Oh, I understand the ramifications. He said, every terrorist, low level despot, and politician would sell their own mothers to get their hands on such technology. Exactly. I'm going to contact the FBI about this, he said, even if it means losing my job. This is just too much of a risk to have this technology out there. He put his notepad in his jacket pocket and stood to leave.

20:05 If you think of anything else, anything you think I need to know, don't hesitate to call. He held out a business card to me, and you'll work on getting my case reviewed. Don't worry. As soon as I find any hard evidence, I'm sure we'll get you out of here. Thank you so much, I said. Looking down at the card, I paused. It had no name on it, only a number five five, five, four three two one. I slowly looked into his eyes. You're one of the three, I said quietly. He took a step closer to me. Two now, thanks to you, he said, with that same chesh grinn as his predecessor. Are you going to kill me? He let out a small chuckle. What fun would that be?

21:11 He turned and headed for the visitation room door. He whispered something to the large orderly and handed him some money. They both looked at me and grinned in a very unpleasant way. So here I sit in my room, desperately writing multiple copies of this letter and sending it to anyone who will listen. Please help me, and that, my spookies, is why you should never trust a phone number scribbled on a bathroom wall. In fact, I'm kind of surprised I need to say it out loud, but just to be safe, I'll keep it in the curriculum. Some bad ideas cost you a little dignity, some cost you a couple of dollars, and some well, some answer back, know your secrets and decide you might be useful before you're disposable.

22:20 So next time you find yourself bored, curious and staring at something that really ought to be ignored, maybe just wash your hands and walk away, because not every strange number leads to a prank, a date, or a good story. Thank you all so much for joining me. I do love sharing a scare with you every week and beyond. And if you're new here, on Saturday, there'll be a brand new IDEs of March compilation of scary stories for your listening pleasure, and on Monday, a brand new terrifying and true all about the dear Woman. And I want to take a moment to thank our Patreon podcast boosters folks who went to Weeklyspooky dot com slash join and signed up at fifteen dollars a month or hire to hear their names at the end of the show, and they are Johnny Nix, Kate and Lulu, Jessica Fuller, Mike Eshcuey, Jenny Green, Amber Hansford, Karen we Met, Jack Kerr and Craig Cohen. Thank you all so much, and if you want to hear your name at the end of the program, just head to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join and sign up at the fifteen dollars a month or higher mark.

23:30 It really does make a big difference to help us keep the show going and going. But now I need to get back to work and resist the urge to call a certain phone number in the hope of fame and fortune. So for myself, for my executive producers Rob Fields and Bobbletopia dot Com, my producer Dan Wilder, and my composer Ray Mattis, I'll talk at you next time. Thank you for listenings these. Make sure to find your way back next week week. But for now you are safe. Trust me.