Podcasts about garden gnomes

Police find 2 kilogram garden gnome made entirely of MDMA. Italian nun arrested over links to powerful mafia network. Drinking Coffee Can Add Years to Your Lifespan. //SUPPORT by joining the Weird AF News Patreon http://patreon.com/weirdafnews - OR buy Jonesy a coffee at http://buymeacoffee.com/funnyjones Buy MERCH: https://weirdafnews.merchmake.com/ - Check out the official website https://WeirdAFnews.com and FOLLOW host Jonesy at http://instagram.com/funnyjones

We welcome back Chris Woodyard to discuss the very odd story of the Wollaton Gnomes - a 1979 reported sighting of little men in little cars by a group of children in a British park. Chris & Simon's podcast Boggarts & Banshees (Apple Podcasts)Transcript of the gnome witness children's Interview (courtesy Simon Young)Wollaton Hall (wiki)Blog by Frank Earp, who claims to have investigated the gnomes  contemporary to the events. Laughing Gnome (1967) David Bowie songThe Original Fairy Investigation Society (wiki)The reborn Fairy Investigation Society (facebook)Fairy Census OneFairy Census TwoGeorge Harrison's Friar Park (and gnomes)Gnomes (wiki)Garden Gnomes (wiki)Kabouter (wiki)Klabautermann (wiki)Paracelsus book about various spirits (wiki)Tom Clark Gnomes (retail site)Books (Affiliate Links):Gnomes by Wil HuygenThe Wollaton Gnomes: A Nottingham Fairy Mystery by Dr. Simon Young (and others)A is for Arsenic - by Chris WoodyardOther books by Chris Woodyard========Got a show suggestion?  Fill out this form: https://bit.ly/MTsuggestionsWant to buy someone a subscription to the commercial-free Patreon version of the show? Gift SubscriptionsBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/monstertalk--6267523/support.

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Police in southern Netherlands uncovered an unusual find during a drug search: a nearly 2kg (4lb) garden gnome made entirely of MDMA.Read the episode transcript by joining the Learn English with Ben fan club. You'll get access to transcripts, tutorials and quizzes, plus other bonus content. Visit patreon.com/learnenglishwithben for more information and to join now.Patreon: patreon.com/learnenglishwithben - For transcripts, comprehension quizzes, and video tutorials, join the fan club.Instagram: instagram.com/learnenglishwithbenWebsite: learnenglishwithben.comEmail: learnenglishwithben88@gmail.com - send me an email if you're interested in classes Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Episode 1596, brought to you by our incredible sponsors: Chubbies: For a limited time, our friends at Chubbies are giving our listeners 20% off with the promo code HARDFACTOR20 at checkout at chubbiesshorts.com. Kalshi: Go to Kalshi.com/hardfactor to get $20 free credit when you deposit $50 in the first and only legal prediction market in the US Hims: Start your free online visit at Hims.com/hardfactor for your personalized ED treatment options Prize Picks: Download the PrizePicks app today and use code HARDFACTOR and get $50 instantly when you play $5!! Timestamps: 00:00:00 - Thanksgiving Show Schedule and Commanders Special Teams Collapse 00:06:38 - MDMA Gnome(s) seized by police in the southern Netherlands 00:19:45 - South Korean Man eats his way out of Military Draft, gets extra year of service (also, WW3 the game, of course) 00:26:00 - Substitute bus driver drops off entire bus at wrong freezing location, kids stranded 00:33:04 - Sarah Duterte will take on any assassination attempt, and put you in a steel cage, even from beyond the grave... Thank you for listening, go to Patreon.com/HardFactor to support the pod and get access to discord chat and bonus podcasts.... But MOST Importantly, HAGFD!! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's your Ill-Advised News, the stupid criminals of the day. Support the show and follow us here Twitter, Insta, Apple, Amazon, Spotify and the Edge! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We kick Monday off with an Ill-Advised News of an Anthony's Redbull heist and a Lululemon theft ring. We get a mice update, Anthony recaps Vietnamese Thanksgiving, and we find out why Pokémon Go should be re-named Pokémon Noooo! We play Ben, Ben, or Ben, learn how to do the McConaughey, and Cass forced Anthony to watch Hot Frosty...what did he think? We have a double dose of Ill with MDMA gnomes and a TikTok haul that was a steal. Cass shares how she got scammed and warns us all head of the big shopping week.  Support the show and follow us here Twitter, Insta, Apple, Amazon, Spotify and the Edge! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What's trending on socials? Barbara Friedman give us the scoop.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Of Funerals and Families; Part One In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Victory is neither pointless, fleeting, nor soon forgotten. It is yours.” I have been warned that my Uncle wants me dead. My Aunts want me for; other things." "What do they want?" E asked. It was the whole 'men as a true asset' problem for her. "The whole repository of nefariousness;” Pamela started to explain, but then, "Double Word Score!" Pamela and I exclaimed excitedly then 'high-fived'. Yes, you spiteful Cosmos, I had found my soul-mate and she was a near-octogenarian with a macabre sense of humor; who also had a telepathic ability to know my mind. E looked totally lost in the exchange. "Yes; the whole repository of nefariousness was created to be sterile," Pamela picked up the conversation. "Which makes the very existence of Cáel here very noteworthy; virtually inexplicable," she mused. "What have the labs at Havenstone think of this?" Rachel worried. "I refused to go back in for any more tests," I met her gaze. "But it could be important," E joined in. "I will make it easy on you both; I'm a horrible person. I'm the Head of House Ishara and I elect to not put my fate in the hands of the same people who leaked my very existence to the Illuminati during the first set of tests," I stated. "Which is why I'm here in Chicago burying my Father, in case any of you missed it." "Certainly knowing what is going on is more important than the risk of further exposure," E persisted. She got kudos for sticking to her guns. "Esmeralda, I work for Katrina Love, Head of Executive Services," I responded. "By that I mean I have this nifty little glass table in a corner of her office. Me stressing over my genetics isn't really important. Katrina is on the case and I haven't been out of college for two months yet. If the difference between Havenstone getting in a fight with the Illuminati and keeping the truce is my blood sample, she'll let me know," I added. "As far as Ishara is concerned, Havenstone had an information leak that got a house member killed." "Do you have other family?" E inquired hesitantly. "Blood kin? Not in this country and certainly not anyone I could name," I sighed. "I case you are wondering, there are a grand total of three members on Ishara's roster." "Is the rest of your family safe?" E was trying to sound upbeat. "Safe? Of course they are not safe. They both work for Executive Services, Esmeralda. They were 'Runners' who I inducted into Ishara. They are Amazons of the Host and that means never being safe this side of the cliffs. Friday morning I presented them to our ancestors and they were welcomed as equals; as sisters to those who have the blood of Mycenaeans on their hands," I turned to look out the window. "What was it like?" Tiger Lily inquired. "The induction." "If you are looking for a vision of a stone hall with thousands of war-like Amazons holding me in judgment, you'll be disappointed," I recalled. "I had to create the ceremony from scratch; ash, tears and blood. "I felt strong enough about that instinct I let Desiree slap me until I cried enough tears. With Desiree's knife, I cut myself, they cut themselves and our blood mixed," I finished. "That is not how it is done," Rachel corrected me. "No," I stopped. "It is not how you do it. House Ishara has come back from the void that waits for all those who are dead and have no one living to recall them," I explained. "We are not the other Houses. We are both Love and Oaths and there is a lack of respect for each of those virtues in this World." "I never considered Amazons as overly romantic, but we are true to our oaths," Esmeralda was starting to bask in the openness of the exchange. "I do not doubt the integrity of anyone in this vehicle, except for me," I gave her a weary grin. "The failure of oaths is mine. Ishara was bound by an Oath and has failed in her pledge. You are wrong about the romance and I am sure you have misunderstood my definition. I live for the day when no sons are sent to the cliffs as newborns; Love, Esmeralda. Love." The hush pressed upon us until Tiger Lily pulled up in front of the Hotel Burnham. Rachel, E, Charlotte (from the second GL) and I went in. I wave the others back as I went to the desk. Rachel and Charlotte had grey duffel bags with 'stuff' inside. E had my minimal kit. "Cáel Nyilas with Havenstone," I introduced myself. Yes, I was in 'prison' gear. "Director Nyilas; welcome to the Burnham," he recovered quickly. "Which rooms do you wish to use?" Thank you, Helena, no I'm a damn Director. He twisted the screen so I could see the list. Eleven doubles and a Lakeview Executive Suite with two adjoining Deluxe Suites. "We'll use those," I indicated the Executive/Deluxe/Deluxe. "Very good, Sir," he nodded. "Will you be ordering room service? I'm afraid the Atwood restaurant has closed for the evening." "Sounds like a plan," I looked at his name tag, "Steve, or do you prefer Mr. McCabe?" "Steve will do fine, Director;” Steve started. "I will make it easy on you Steve," I sighed. "Call me Cáel. All this Director crap is for the benefit of people I barely know. I am here, in my hometown, to bury my Father; who was murdered yesterday." Steve paled. "The FBI gave me these spiffy duds. If any law enforcement shows up asking for me, give me a ring first." "Nyilas; from Burnham? I read about that," Steve seemed bemused. "The day shift Assistant Manager is from Burnham too." How wonderful, I thought sarcastically. Steven sensed my waning interest. "Your keycards, Sir; Cáel and my sympathy for your loss." "Steve, never miss a chance to tell your loved ones how you feel," I took the cards. "That is my biggest regret with my Dad. I didn't think about it the last time we talked." Steve gave a final nod. I rejoined my group and headed for the elevator. The rest was a tired blur. The rest of the group showed up, including Pamela. I called Nicole to tell her the situation then called Timothy despite the late hour to make sure he was okay. Timothy informed me that two 'psycho-chicks' stopped by as a kind of 'meet and greet'. I hit the small hotel fitness center with Mona, the fourth member of Rachel's team. It helped. What helped more was the constant reminder that I worked with smart people. Mona's mother was dead as well, killed on an undisclosed mission with the SD when she was ten. She could understand my sense of grief and confusion. We didn't cry and hug. It wasn't something she could do with a man. Give a decade, or two and she might come around. Instead, "Thank you for Constanza," Mona said quietly to me as we exited the center. "I measure a person's life in the lives we save; as well as the ones we take," I enlightened her. Before that moment, I didn't really consider killing people to be all that praiseworthy an endeavor. Today I had been in a situation where my life had been in immediate danger. I was glad the other guy ended up dead. Since I was prepared to keep acting stupidly, I was grateful for those who would murder people so that I could remain both noble of purpose and alive. "She is close to me; she helped me grow up after Mom was gone," Mona opened up a tiny bit. "Aren't you a bit angry with me?" I asked. "Initially, I was very angry. Then I heard your words and I knew you spoke the truth of the matter," Mona exhaled. "She should have died. She deserved death for what she said." "No one;” I started to comfort Mona. "For a member of a Faith that exults in the harshness of martial conflict, you spend an inordinate amount of energy struggling to keep people alive," Mona noted. "I'm glad I helped deal with those Latin Kings now. It was a mission worth doing." "What?" I stumbled. "Didn't Buffy tell you?" Mona regarded me. She smirked. "Yeah, we hunted them down late Sunday night and into early Monday morning. I doubt the few who escaped will ever be back." "Why haven't I; anybody heard about this?" I worried. Mona looked at me somewhat perplexed. "Cáel of Ishara, we always take the bodies of murder victims, cut them up, place them in large drums of acid and ship them to Canada," Mona informed me. "Ah; thanks for telling me that. Let's both agree to not let Buffy know that I know, okay?" I requested. "She'll get an inordinate thrill thinking she knows something I don't." "As you wish, Cáel of Ishara," Mona nodded gravely.  (Tuesday Morning) Sexual addiction is somewhat like military service. It requires you to be alert to your surroundings, think on your feet, follow procedures and; most crucial to me; shows you how to remain functional with minimal sleep. In this case, five hours sufficed to clear out my cobwebs and make me incredibly horny. All of that was despite the layers of upsetting news being placed before me. Executive Services had gone over the feed from the four SD members. Inadvertently, Dad had fought on the 'right' side. The team leader died first. Her back-up put two men in the grave and wounded a third before they tossed a grenade on her. I looked at Charlotte as she gave me the news. We both had a 'what the' expression on our faces. Grenade? I kept doing my calisthenics. The second two-Amazon group killed three attackers on their side of the building then charged the back door. I wondered if Mom's Garden Dragon was okay. It was like a Garden Gnome, except it was a Dragon. Mom was odd that way. The attacking group had blown the front door and entered the first floor. The Amazons in the back decided to shoot out the lock instead. While transiting the kitchen moving forward, the second group took fire; from a Zastava M 21. I was confused. "It is a modern Serbian weapon," Charlotte filled in the blanks. "Dad was killed by Serbians?" I muttered. "No," Charlotte sighed. "No he wasn't." Another look from me as I started my standing push-ups. "That team member was wounded. The shooter was taken down by both of our teammates. At this point, three other attackers moved from your front room to the dining room, pinning our team down. That was when your father broke cover and assaulted the attackers. He had this large lamp and cracked it over the right shoulder of the closest man," Charlotte stated. I knew that light fixture Charlotte was talking about. It was a floor lamp, nearly two meters tall, made of glass and bronze. My physique was from my Father; broad shoulders and powerful arms. That 'large lamp' weighed over 30 kg and, powered by my father's upper body strength, I was betting the guy who was on the receiving end had have some of his bones snapped. "The man screamed in Bulgarian, his two companions turned to see what was happening and the Amazons advanced by fire toward your father," Charlotte continued. "Your father swung again," she looked at me, "connecting with the man's chest. In response, the other two shot him three times. He fell. The second team pressed forward, killing the man your Father wounded and wounding another. The last unhurt Amazon was killed trying to get to your Father while the survivor was concussed by the use of a second grenade. We don't have the video of what happened in the interim. When the last Amazon began moving again, the two remaining attackers had dragged your father out the front door. She pursued and fired. She wounded the undamaged attacker; and one of her bullets ended your Father's life. She was wounded in this last exchange of fire. The two men helped each other to a vehicle and left." I kept working out as I made an acceptable collage of my misery. "Does she know?" I whispered. "Does she; the Amazon? Her name is Sabina. I don't think she's been informed yet," Charlotte answered. "Unless it becomes necessary, don't tell her that her bullet killed my Father," I sighed. "The only thing that is important to me; to Ishara; is that she gave her all as did her sisters. My Father was killed by the men who first shot him. Had they escaped with my Father, they weren't taking him to a hospital, so he was as good as dead anyway. That is all that matters." "Yes Ishara," Charlotte responded with quiet reverence. Knowing nothing of Security Detail's procedure and tradition, I had tossed out an excuse to spare a valiant woman a terrible piece of news. Charlotte's demeanor suggested to me that it would be a kindness conveyed. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tiger Lily came in from their suite. Mona had been my guardian while I slept so she slept now. This was our signal to shower and put on some clothes before the group went downstairs for breakfast. Pamela presented herself as I was getting dressed. Esmeralda's arrival signaled our migration to the ground floor Atwood restaurant. As everyone glided into the elevator, I had a nostalgic moment for Odette. A normal, non-lethal, happy young lady. This all-encompassing seriousness around me was crimping my efforts to find the silver lining in this personal calamity. Ten seconds after exiting the elevator, Nicole angled toward us then we proceeded to breakfast. It took a little jockeying and refereeing by me to get the seating arrangements set. Nicole was on my left then Pamela. Rachel and E were on my right. Charlotte and Tiger Lily were across from me as orders were taken. "How are you holding up, Cáel?" Nicole put a hand on my lap. I had no immediate reply. "Lonely. Sad. Alone. Bereft of anger; it is pointless. I want to scream, rage, tear things up, throw things across the room and hear them shatter; but not really," I confessed. Suddenly, a strange essence infused my core. "No, that's wrong. I am not alone. We have suffered more, lived through worse and never wavered even in the face of death," I said in a ghostly whisper. That was really the last thing I wanted to say. Its origin was from an enigmatic corner of my mind I was resisting venturing into. 'Taking oneself to the cliffs' made a whole lot more sense suddenly. The Amazon prepared her daughters and granddaughters for her absence. She volunteered to make that trek. In her heart, she called out to her Ancestors to prepare them to accompany her on that final journey. That all sounded like comfortable spiritual mumbo-jumbo, safely quoted by a rational man under duress. The abyssal rift in that psycho-babble, makeshift patch over my emotional pain was I felt Vranus and Ishara standing at my shoulders. Vranus because his seemingly endless quest was finally resolved and he and his descendants would at last be welcomed into the halls of their kin. With me, he had succeeded and brought his people home. There was still the matter of the rest; the three sons of Arinniti and the elder warrior. Holy Crap; they were still out there, waiting to be shown the path home. My 'Evenly Holier Crap' moment was feeling the weight of the eyes of Ishara upon me. Not Ishara, the matron goddess of this; my House, but that ancient Amazon who had surrendered her personal name to oblivion to give her followers a sense of unity. No female was solely 'her' daughter; all the women of the house were equal in birth and station. It was that Ishara who stood at my shoulder and, beyond some perverse desire to look behind me to see how sexy she was, I felt I had her; not approval; her mandate. We had to be held to our oaths and would die to a woman (and man) for them. We were to give the Host a second chance to make things right. There would be no retreat. It was not in the Amazon psyche to fight the relentless, remorseless and bloody battle; to risk everything on victory with no thought of failure. It was not something guys were accustomed to, but had been the doom of men down through the ages. Whether too romantic, too stubborn, or too bound to our brother's in arms, men had embraced hopeless causes before; mostly perishing without fanfare yet with the exceptional impossible victory to give us hope. From time immemorial, male kin of the flesh and spirit had piled their corpses one upon the other, refusing the verdict of combat for the sake of brotherhood and every imaginable ideal. It was hardly a trait worth sharing with the sisters. They would understand the pieces; not the result. My lack of political ability would not be disability. I simply had to learn to fight; a lot better than I did at that moment. The echoes of this message inside my head, the chilled air that filled my lungs and balance restored to my heart was bizarrely unfrightening. It would be an affirmation of the 'first directive' oaths all the houses had sworn. It wasn't my place to raise all the 'Runners', or even a single one. It was my duty to initiate the 'Worthy', no matter their number. My actions were mine. I would not shame the other houses. I would not consider their prestige at all. It was not my place in the same way it was not their place to tell me what I could and couldn't do. It was a divine 'Go get 'em' and it felt pretty, freaking awesome. "Cáel, are you okay?" Nicole asked in a worried tone. She squeezed my thigh. I looked down at my hands. I was okay. "Nicole, I have the blood of Ahhiyawa champions on my hands. I feel it's sticky, sickening ichor and smell the copper-laden, metallic odor," I smiled. "I think I'm going to be just fine." "Who?" Nicole was even more concerned. "Someone who screwed with me a long, long time ago. They are all dead, but don't worry about the bodies showing up to bother anyone," I grinned. All the full-blooded Amazons had been very still. The word 'Ahhiyawa' appeared to scare them even more than my haunting actions. To the Amazons, the Ahhiyawa were the Mycenaeans in the time of the Iliad. The problem seemed to be that I had never heard any member of the Host use that term and I was suddenly curious as to why. "You seemed to have went away for a few seconds," Nicole joked lightly. "You do appear better rested, which is good. What is on the agenda for today?" "Get my Father's body, prepare for his cremation, arrange for the last Roman Catholic Church we attended to send somebody to the service and prepare my parent's plot," I ran down. "I imagine the police and feds will want to contact me again," I piled it on. "I want to see my home if the forensic guys let me. What do you think will be aimed at me?" "We'll check up on any family attorney you may have had along with probating your father's Will, if he had one," Nicole assured me. "As for the authorities, let's see what kind of warrants they are asking for before we move beyond a 'denial' defense." "Denial, as in me claiming I didn't do anything because, ya know, I didn't do anything," I gave her a sleepy smile. "How about we eat first?" We ordered, drank our coffee, tea and juices while remaining largely non-communicative. It wasn't until the food began arriving did I realize I'd 'misplaced' Pamela once more. As I tore into a big slab of ham, I looked over my surroundings for the first time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when I spotted Pamela then the 'big picture' kicked me in the nuts. Pamela was dressed as a server, coasting about the room, filling drinks, getting appetizer and performing the tedious little chores that waiters and waitresses had to pull off flawlessly. The other wait-staff noticed Pamela, but since she was making their jobs easier and not taking their gratuities, they ignored her. They probably thought she was some industry expert. The plates were being cleared away when Pamela returned, back in normal clothing. She dumped a pile of ID's on the table. Nicole picked them up. "Chicago PD; Organized Crime Taskforce," Nicole read off then glanced to Pamela. "ATF, Homeland Security, FBI, FBI, Chicago PD; Homicide, Federal Marshall and Federal Marshall." "What?" Pamela said between bites of her veggie omelet. "I took their identification, not their wallets. Do you want me to go back for those too; and their keys?" "No. We have risked Mr. Nyilas' freedom enough for one meal," Nicole shot back. She took Tiger Lily's empty plate, dumped the ID's on it then covered the pile with her handkerchief. "Hello," this officious young lady greeted us. I'd been distracted by Nicole's malfeasance so I missed the hotel's new Assistant Manager's approach. It was turning out to be a great morning for visitations from my past. This ghost was much younger than the last ones. Our eyes met. It was easy to see that I was the man in charge being the only man at the table. "Director Nyilas, I hope everything is going well for you and your staff this morning," she smiled. "I would also like to convey the Hotel Burnham's condolences at the passing of your father. I too was born and raised in Burnham." I already knew where she'd lived most of her life. Most critically, I very strongly recalled where she'd gone to school; all 12 grades plus K. "Cameron Sanders," I stood and extended my hand across the table. "You look familiar." Of course she looked familiar. Cameron had publically ground my soul into the grit that ants stepped upon. Her verbal rejection had been a pivotal moment in my life. After that day, I had taken responsibility for my life both anatomically and academically. Recall how I had said I was once a 'nobody'. Here was living proof. Cameron and I had gone to the same schools from Kindergarten through our senior years. We'd even shared classes and it wasn't like I could be confused with all the other 'Cáels' we'd gone to school with; because there weren't any. The same goes for 'Nyilas'. I'd been shifting the boner in my pants for three solid years because of Cameron. She had been hot in high school and she was even better looking now; Brooke hot. For a second, my confidence wavered. In that heartbeat, I realized she was just another woman and I was no longer that guy. "Where you an upperclassman at Thornton Fractional North High School?" she queried. "Hmm; do you recall Jenny Forrester?" I countered. Cameron knew her African-American rival, no doubt. The tweak in her smile said as much. "I'm going out on a limb; you look like a DePaul girl." Cameron's eyes twinkled. Her eyes flitted down to where her class ring normally held court. She had taken it off for work neutrality. "How did you guess?" Cameron tilted her hip suggestively. Sex. "So I'm right?" I reposed. I had 'guessed' right because Cameron crowed about her decision to go to DePaul over all her other offers. "I have some family business to take care of, Cameron," I nodded. "Can we catch up later today and figure out where we've intersected before this morning?" Translation: I'm going to screw you. Not 'I want to', but 'I will'. I could normally figure out a woman in an evening. I had a three year backlog of data on poor Cameron. My Pivotal Goddess was an 'upfront' girl. Her façade was bravado backed by the fear of not measuring up; not being good enough. My mistake in High School was approaching her, hat in hand. Cameron felt best when someone took the tough choices away from her. If she didn't lead, she couldn't fail by her way of thinking. Dad had stood by me that night when he came home from work. I was a broken wreck of a teenage boy. Dad hadn't told me to toughen up and he hadn't been sympathetic. All he wanted to know was what I was going to do about it. What was 'I' going to do, as if I could be the master of my own fate. That was my Dad. The next day I started working out, eating better and taking better care of myself. He was dead; still dead yet my feelings over that had evolved. He was with my ancestors now, waiting for me and my sons and daughters. Looking at it that way, he wasn't really gone at all. "I'll see what can be done," Cameron smiled. I was going to eat her up. "Oh yeah, this plate was mistakenly delivered to my table," I indicated Pamela's illegal haul. "Could you see that it gets where it needs to go after we are gone?" Cameron shot me a sultry smile without even giving her task a casual glance. A hideous tip (kudos to Odette) was added to our over-priced bill and the ladies and I retired to our rooms. It was routine heading to our room. Mona waved us to silence. Then the 'bug hunt' began. Like every Amazon persecution of opposing 'life forms', they didn't play fair. The Amazons had placed electronic surveillance in the room before they left so when unwelcomed guests showed up while we ate and Mona 'slept' we could watch where they placed their goodies in our rooms. This was not a matter of throwing a fit and tossing the electronic devices down the garbage disposal. Oh no, not in Amazon battle lore. They found out what frequency your device was broadcasting on and backtracked it. According to Tiger Lily you can use a source point and a handheld device to triangulate the receiver. Then the fun begins. First, keep the original signal going. Put a subroutine of; oh, all kinds of credit card fraud in this case with the video file then call the appropriate law enforcement agency to bust the place. The subroutine would have no point of origin, so the Amazons would be safe. The spying agency would have a headache on their hands. Credit card fraud would require them to confiscate all the equipment because the threat posed was real, even if the tip was now suspect. This was the Amazon equivalent of fixating the enemy at one point; surveillance; while making their real move on another; the funeral. The average Amazon funeral was a private affair. My Security Detail was modifying plans for an Amazon dignitary's attendance of another Society member's funerary rites. Halfway through the deception plan, Special Agents Brock and John showed up at our door. With two law firms (Pratt's and Nicole's) dancing on their foreheads, they were being polite today and inviting me down to be questioned. I asked for Detective Lisa and Investigator Horace to be there. One: I didn't dictate who investigated me. Two: they were under Internal Affairs review. I agreed with 'one'; I would say 'nothing' to any number of highly qualified law enforcement operatives. I might give answers to the two I had mentioned. 'Two' was none of my affair. They could hope for some answers when they chose the review would be over. I was more than happy spending a lifetime not talking to them. Legalize was tossed around to the point Nicole yawned, pointed out none of them were attorney's with the United States District Court of the Northern District of Illinois; damn, that's some letterhead, and they could make no deals, grant no immunities, on their own. There was no talking to be done except for the ass-reaming the Court of Appeals was going to give both the Federal attorney who applied for the surveillance warrant and the judge who signed it. Low and behold, phones began ringing. As a patrol unit was making a raid on a room three floors down, a series of shots rang out. A gun battle ensued between the three armed men in the room, the two patrolmen (women actually) and the entire misfortunate event was caught on NBC Channel Five news. Occasionally I forget I work for fundamentally viciously sick fucks. My 'team' had sent the cops and the news crew to the spot and even supplied the ignorant housekeeper with the room card-key for the cops to break in with; a hotel room is not a private dwelling. Cops break in, do their 'freeze, we are the police' thing, but before the three feds in the room could reply, 'their' computer audio equipment let off a sound of bullets firing and ricochets echoing across the room. Nature took its course after that. The feds drew and both sides began shooting. No one died, but one ATF guy was going off to surgery. They would have all earned Purple Hearts if they had been in the military and a commendation no matter what; had two law enforcement agencies not shot each other up. The chase was on for the news crew who was desperately trying to get their station to show the footage before the feds grabbed the memory cards. Despite having had no part in that fiasco, Nicole immediately clued in that the moment our two feds ran off to help their comrades it was our time to leave. Did we go to the vehicles we came in? No. That would have exhibited a lack of paranoia my guardians would have found appalling. Two new car waited a block away. Had I been better at this game, I would have noticed the lack of functioning traffic cameras around us. Instead, I went begging to the local diocese of the Catholic Church. I plead my case. Mom and Dad were devout, raised me to be a devout Catholic yet when my Mother died, my father had never gotten over the trauma and me, being a young man, hadn't explored my spirituality yet; but I promised I'd get right on it when I returned to New York. The priest who handled the end of life stuff for the Church was sympathetic. He gave me the name of a local priest near my home I could talk to on my return. He also told me that he'd received a moving letter from a nun in Uganda about a deeply spiritual moment she had shared with me years ago, so he was onboard with giving my Dad a Catholic send-off. I wasn't sure if that was a sign to never touch a wannabe Nun again, or a reminder that nun's gave incredibly positive feedback on their sexual misadventures. I went with the latter. A few more calls, the choosing of the proper crematorium and I was through with the first part of that ordeal. Next came the funeral notification and invites. The Union would send some of Dad's closest co-workers and several neighbors said they'd show up as well. Flowers, clothes, wake; well, it couldn't be in my family home. The forensic team was gone and it was free for me to wander through, but the bullet holes and blood might put a damper on the ambience. In the midst of my worries, I got a call. A polite man named Winchell Sokolowsky offered me the Marshal Fields Jr. Mansion for my personal use. If there is any doubt, Chicago is Not the city of good Samaritans, the overly polite, or even the casually kind. Chicagoans pride themselves on being tough. We have plenty of good people who help out, volunteer and try to make life easier for their fellow man. That does not encompass giving a random stranger use of a multi-million dollar mansion. If I hadn't already been living in fantasy land, I'd have been busy figuring out which one of my few male friends was pulling this prank of on me, but no. "Can I inquire about the source of this largesse, Mr. Sokolowsky? Take in mind the incredible likelihood of a government agency most foul listening in," I cautioned him. "A family friend," he responded with an amused snort. Yeah, cause my Father's funeral was all chuckles for me. Since crab-women weren't likely to know owners of mansions, this had to be my aunts. Woot. "Thank you sir. My security people will be over to sweep the place before the city, state, or federal governments can crank out another search warrant. Thank you again." "That is not unexpected," Sokolowsky replied. "Until then." Rachel looked at me as if I'd done something absurd. She may have been right. "Did you just accept shelter from an individual we do not know; except that he is certainly part of the Protocols?" she stared at me. "Come on now," I chastised her. "It's for a funerary wake. I'm not taking three hundred of the lads out for a stroll, chasing savages up the Little Big Horn, or an Irishman deciding that Oliver Cromwell is a man of his word." I leaned in and winked to Rachel. "Besides Charlie; I got an angle." Pamela, who just happened to be walking by, gave me another high-five. Rachel was really learning to hate/dread those moments of synergy between Pamela and I. "I am not allowed to kill you and I am afraid I can't kill Pamela, but please don't think I don't want to do both," Rachel ratcheted up her displeasure. "Torn into itsy-bitsy pieces;” Pamela started. "And buried alive!" I finished. Another high-five. "You two are both insane," Rachel despaired. "That's the spirit," Pamela and my comeback to Rachel was in synch once again. To prove I wasn't heartless, I hugged Rachel. She froze, arms at her side, caught between warring impulses. I maneuvered her arms around until her hands rested on the back of my hips then rested mine on the small of her back. "Rachel, I cannot go back to a safe, faceless existence," I whispered as I planted tender kisses on her forehead. "To do so would be a betrayal of; me; Ishara." Rachel let go of her emotions and rested her head against my shoulder. "Why couldn't I be tasked to do something sane; like fight drug cartels, Maoist insurgence, or corporate hit squads in the Amazon?" she sighed. I moved my hands to her ass and gave them a nice fondle making sure to slowly grind her waist against my hips. Humping her would have been a mistake. That was sexual. I was giving her a bit of physical appreciation and nothing more. Rachel tilted her head up, I brought mine down until we were nose to nose. "Promise me you will try to stay alive, Cáel," she sounded almost mournful. "I will make a deal with you," I stated. "If I make it back to New York alive, you will consent to have sex with me." Rachel was confused, suspicious yet aroused. "None of this 'one hour' in some dormitory, or nunnery cell. I want everything; a light meal, some quality touching time and a minimum of two rounds of orgasmic sex." "Ah; not a scratch," Rachel counter-offered. I nodded, kissed her nose and she felt as if she'd won something. Rachel got ready to take us to our next stop. Pamela slipped past me. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," she whispered. I had never used that term out loud before. "That's what I would say," she clarified. She was my evil psychic twin grandmother. It was through a tireless group effort that I made it back to the Hotel Burnham at 4 p.m. Cameron made a show of being busy when I first came back. I was willing to be patient. While she puttered around, I flirted with the desk clerk and one of the baggage attendants; pale skin, blonde hair with freckles and light brown skin, black hair in a Nubian weave. This was the 'professional' lure. By presenting myself as a 'Man's Man' and garnering female adoration, I was clearly not (yet) that into her. The pressure was on her and Cameron didn't like pressure because pressure equated to the possibility of failure. Her advantages which were obvious to every other observer were not certainties to her. Contest time. "Director Cáel Nyilas," Cameron interrupted my joke to the two ladies, "I'm finished up for the day." I gave a quick smile to the women I was about to leave then turned on my personal demon. "Should I wait in the lounge until you change?" "No," I waved off her objections. "You can come up to my suite and then we can go to your domicile for you to change for a night out." Quick visual clue update: she lived at home with her parents yet dated enough that it wouldn't be awkward. It also showed me that she was uncomfortable about going to my room. She wasn't so enchanted she would do something stupid. I had the answer to that. I had made it a public declaration. Not only did my hovering troop had the news, so did her front desk. Nothing bad could happen to her if everyone knew where she was; right? On the elevator ride up it was just me, Cameron, Pamela and Esmeralda. The rest travelled on ahead. She took one rear corner so I took the other. I then let my leather-soled shoes slide down the carpet, lowering my overall height compared to Cameron. At some point, I began back-spinning my feet, pretending to be on the edge of falling on my ass. I smiled at Cameron and her eyes sparkled at the vaudevillian gesture. Know your prey and I knew way more about Cameron than was healthy for any girl. For instance, she loved Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton; more of a Keaton girl. She giggled then came to my rescue. She was wrapping me up in her arms while mine stayed safely away. "You are a bit of a joker," she teased me. "Your beautiful smile makes all that effort worthwhile," I truthfully pledged to Cameron. She sighed so contentedly. Behind her back, Pamela was loading a two-barreled hunting device, aiming at some surface-based, above ground structure with an open top and gave it both barrels while avoiding the imaginary back-splash. 'Looks like herring for dinner,' she mouthed with a wicked grin. Esmeralda was soaking it in. Hadn't I pounced on Rachel a few hours earlier? I was definitely hooking Cameron and reeling her in for some sexual deviant purpose; and Pamela was mocking the whole situation. E turned and faced the doors. "You seem like a really nice guy," Cameron murmured. "I mean that in a good way." "I can't see you as any way, but truthful and kind," I met her cherished countenance. "I imagine even harsh lessons are difficult for you to deliver." There; she had one last chance to figure out the poor schlub she'd crushed at the start of our senior year was me. "Being a leader can be very tough," she moped as she pressed into me. My mumbled offerings of affection and her savage reprisal had never registered with her. I was going to eat her alive. "How about I take care of you tonight?" I requested. She hesitated, not out of fear, but confusion. "Completely relax and I'll make the decisions for this one night. Your mind will be free to enjoy and discard at your pleasure." On most levels, Cameron was seeing this as a date. She was a 'dating' girl. She didn't give up the goodies until date three, if I was exceptionally good; date four, or five otherwise. I was about to dispose of that with a clever case of role reversal. My two staffers vanished as I entered my lakeside executive suite. A splendid view I thought I'd never be able to afford the last day; The 28th of December. I had enough money for a flight and a date picking me up at the airport. Bolingbrook had an inordinate amount of students stay the holidays and, by tradition, the graduating class hosted a New Year's Eve party for those students and the staff. I had told Dad about Havenstone and my infinitesimal chances of that kind of job. That was it. He patted me on the shoulder. There was no pressure to come back to Burnham after graduation if I didn't have a job lined up. It was my home if I needed it. So much was unspoken between us. I could tell he was proud; college; good grades; popular; happy. I shouldn't have taken for granted we'd get a chance to talk later. Back to the joy at hand. "So, what's it like working with your Dad?" I dropped into our causal conversation. I was in the bedroom, door open; really? Why do they put doors on those things? The 'Daddy' question could be taken two ways and I trusted Cameron to take it the worse way; and to be pissed. "My Father didn't get me the job here!" Cameron stormed in and insisted with a nice spirited mare stomp of the foot as emphasis. I 'just happened' to be naked, half turned away and a nice, highly suggestive pair of men's underwear in my hands. "What do you mean?" I was clearly confused. I turned a bit more toward her. Now she could almost see everything. "You; you have scars all over your body," she moaned. "I am a warrior, Cameron. This is the kind of man I am," I gave her a fierce, dominating gaze. "I fight for what I want and I brutally defend that which is mine. Who did you think I was?" Had Cameron been a fighter, that would have been the point she left the room. She was all up-front, bravado and a superior façade over an insecure, parentally driven trophy for their mantel place. My anger faded. It wasn't her fault I couldn't read her signs four years ago. I was still going to fuck her to the afterlife and back, but this time I'd be doing it as an informative journey. "I don't know anymore," Cameron tried to rally some sort of coherent rampart. "Come here," I beckoned her with one hand (the one without the underwear). Cameron shook her head. "Cameron, please believe me, there are things my staff would let me get away with; rape is not one of them. I won't touch you anywhere unless you give me permission." If you are a girl in the room at this point, you are toast. I just made it safe to touch my naked body. Sure, you have clothes on; for now, but not for long. Why? Women desire sex about as much as men do. Unless you are a vapid fashion model with substance abuse issues, men with non-disfiguring scars are an aphrodisiac. Add to that a hard-forged physique and men, sex is there for the taking. "I; uh;” she kept taking baby-steps forward. "I; Pam; Pamela is it?" "Yo," Pamela answered in a bored manner, knife in hand, then, "Whoa now!" she pointed her knife at my equipment. "Sheath that, young man. Put it under wraps right now." "I'm grown man, Pamela," I griped. I also put on my underwear. "Pluck the freaking pebble out of my hand, bitch, and then I'll call you an adult," Pamela sneered. Looking to Cameron, "Anything else Miss?" "No, thank you; no, wait. What do you do for Mr. Nyilas?" Cameron asked. "I'm his psychic medium," was Pamela's sage reply. That supernatural bogusness made Cameron happy. It shouldn't have. "Yeah, I kill his enemies then interrogate their souls," Pamela added with a nod. "It is highly rewarding work." Cameron's mouth gaped. "How about I shut the door and give you two kids some privacy." "What does she really do?" Cameron whispered to me. Part of me wanted to say 'she told you'. "She's my masseuse," I lied. I started putting my pants on (forgetting my socks) then fell/sat on the bed. Cameron came to my bedside. I rolled on my back and highly exaggerated the effort it took to pull them up. Cameron began giggling. "Hey, these are my 'skinny' slacks. I wouldn't laugh at you if our positions were switched." "Really?" she teased me. I laughed and she laughed along. "Cameron, think about it. I'm shirtless and definitely bra-less. I'm pretty sure I'd be too distracted by a multitude of your other assets to snicker," I countered. Cameron blushed and smiled. Ah, the visual image in Cameron's head was her, with jeans, racy panties and nothing else on while I hovered over her, relishing her attempts to conceal her charms. I shuffled back on the bed and resumed pulling my slacks up. Cameron followed, right into the danger zone. "Wait;” she put a hand on my abdomen. "What caused that scar?" So I told her. Okay, I gave her an abridged version of the truth. Fine, I lied like a big dog. I had the amazing habit of stumbling across women in need of saving. I bled for their virtue and honor, racked with intense pain before a violent victory was seized by my masculine hands. I was sure that Pamela and Rachel were hiding just outside the door, retching into waste baskets over the layers upon layers of my tripe. Around wound twelve, I was sure if I had asked Cameron to wear little lamb ears and a bell around her neck, she would have; had one been handy. To be fair, I wasn't fighting off legions of Green Beret. I was doing one better. I was using thinly-veiled caricatures of her High School enemies and nemeses. I was revealing their wickedness and pummeling them for their evil ways. There is a precious look a woman has when she miraculously discovers she is going to have the intercourse she's wanted yet somehow not recognized that need for until that moment. Cameron had that look, straddling me, skirt hiked up to her waist and vulva riding my cock (two layers intervening). We were out of wounds. "The rest are covered up," I explained in a predatory voice. Yes, Cameron was going to have sex and she had no control of events whatsoever and I hadn't even laid a hand on her yet. "Where?" she was suddenly baffled. "Pants," I kept it short and to the point. Cameron looked over her shoulder She reluctantly started to dismount so she could get to them so I made my move. I grabbed her hips in mid-dismount and rotated her around to reverse-cowgirl. Cameron began tugging off my pants with my legs raised high. My stomach crunches kicked in and I leveraged my torso up as well. I deftly moved her skirt up and went straight to the ass massage. Cameron's head shot around, eyes fearful. I had broken my word to not touch her without permission. Yes, I had lied to a girl; Now, I kissed her right on the lips, expertly delivered a delving French kiss and moved one hand to her right breast for an aggressive fondle. Cameron was really getting into it. Her nipples were highly sensitive. Her ass was humping like an over-eager sorority girl pole-dancing on Amateur Night. On cue, Cameron broke free and flew off the bed. "What; you; I thought we were going out?" she whined. She was horny as hell and didn't want to be held accountable at it. "Why are you running away?" I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind; that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know. Remember guys, it cuts both ways. Don't think so? You've had a girlfriend three whole months to the point she's staying over a night or two a week. One night, after your (hopefully) second round, you both discover it is that time of the month. 'Babe (or whatever pet name she has saddled you with), can you run to the store and get me some tampons and pads?' That, by the way, was not a question. She, for hygiene reasons, can't put her clothes on and go out herself. So, you go out to the Quick-Mart at 2 a.m. praying to God that none of your buddies are on a late night beer run and see you with your; stuff. You are not doing this for sex. She's not feeling 100% at the moment. Why are you? Guilt. She was at your place, making your Baloney Pony happy and this happened. You could send her out to the store. Not only is she not the only woman out there, many women understand guys getting freaked out about menstrual products. No, you feel guilty and risk the ridicule of your peers because it is your fault and you are not a dick-wad. And why did she ask you to do something that has nothing to do with you? Women are equally aware that guilt works, Baby. Back to our tale; "I'm not running away," sounded empty coming out of her mouth. "You said; touching." "I think you gave that option up when you crawled on top of me," I leered. "I clearly want to be with you, Cameron. You have given every indication you want to be with me, so I ask you again, why are you suddenly running away?" I kept after her. "I don't want to have sex; right now," again, she sounded weak. "Whatever happens, I go back to New York in two days," I met her shaky gaze. "You can set a time table if you like. The actuality of my life is relentless. I have things to get back to. If you are going to go, then go. I'll head out alone tonight, get a few drinks, come back early and grab some shut-eye," I shrugged. I went searching for my pants. See, she wasn't some random fuck. I wasn't leaving to replace her; making her a failure. I was hemming her in. I had the timeline. I had made my desires clear. There was no negotiation so while she appeared to have choices, she didn't and she knew it. For a girl who had spent so much effort working hard to not disappoint the main masculine figure in her life there was only one thing to do. "I don't want you to think I ever do anything like this," she propped up her morals while stutter-stepping back to the bed. "I feel I have a connection with you." Ah; the 'I have a connection with you' excuse. It would have been so appropriate if she actually remembered me. I pulled her onto the bed, went through the obligatory trying to push me off then we were back to the kissing and humping. Cameron turned out to be a 'use me' girl. That does Not mean abuse, it means she gets off being a responder to her partner's sexual directions. Caress her cheek, jaw and throat and she'd cup my chin, or massage my chest. Cameron was smart and a quick-learner. Her problem was a lack of a sense of adventure and an aversion to taking the lead. With the phantom applause of a hundred other male 'losers' who went to Fractional North High School, I ‘did' the queen who had been beyond us all only four years ago. The erotic twist to all that was with every sense of triumph and pleasure, Cameron mimicked me. Certainly we were both having a memorable time. I had to touch, lick, knead, and fondle every inch of Cameron's body. We both explored our nipple fetish, sixty-nined and engaged in some anal play; no penetration. I completed my first sojourn with the removal of the condom and the blowjob that had been the fantasy of countless hours in my home's upstairs bathroom. Cameron didn't just swallow; she savored and looked like she wanted more. Normally I cuddle beside my partner post-coitus. With Cameron, I lay on top of her at eye level. I put enough weight on her to let her feel pinned without real discomfort. "I have a confession," I gave her a sweaty-faced grin. "What?" she asked then gave me a peck on the lips. "We went to school together; same grade and everything," I enlightened her. "We even talked once." Cameron didn't know what to make of that. "I'll put that in perspective though. Do you believe that if you do something you do your best? Do you believe in craftsmanship?" "Cáel, you are scaring me," Cameron frowned. "Fifteen seconds and you can go," I conveyed with as much calm as I could. "Answer my question." "Okay; yes, I believe in doing your best. I believe in craftsmanship," Cameron played along. "Your words; 'never in a million years'." I related and waited. First there was the uncertainty and fear of the odd course our relationship had taken. It took a few seconds because so few pieces of the puzzle fit. "Cáel Nyilas; it was you; start of senior year; I had been," she muttered. Then came the real fear. "You must hate me." "I thought about it," I said, "but that isn't really me. See, you helped create me. Truth be told, you were only the catalyst. I did all the work." "A great many women helped. They were never a replacement for you. I was taught better than that by my first lover," I continued. "Still, I would be totally different if you hadn't casually annihilated my self-worth that September day." Pause. "Do you like the results?" "You really don't hate me;” Cameron was coming around. "It was high school. We all screw up in high school. According to a few studies, if you don't make a mess of high school, you are destined for failure," I related some real information. "You are getting hard again," Cameron gasped back to being okay with things between us. "Perhaps I should have warned you," I grinned wickedly. "I'm a sex addict." "Hey, Sex Addict!" Pamela shouted into the room. "There are some people out here to see you." "Good people, or bad people?" I shouted back. "Worse," Pamela replied. "The kind of people that want something from you." That was vaguely unpromising. "Cameron, take a shower and we'll talk about dinner when you get out. I think I need to take care of this," I sighed. Off went Cameron to the shower and on went my robe. In the main room, with a variety of levels of sexual tension, were sixteen women I didn't know. The Hotel Burnham has very nice suites, but they are not ballrooms. The room was pretty crowded, with not enough chairs and wall space getting sparse. They were all Havenstone women and I was willing to bet the average age was thirty-five; not my normal crowd. At least I knew why they were all there. Pamela suspected. Rachel and her team were clueless. "Hi, I am known as Cáel Nyilas," I greeted them. "A short history lesson and things will make a great deal more sense, so please be patient." The crowd was not pleased. I was a male and to a woman, the ladies had repudiated the world of men. They were all 'Runners'. It was the presence of Rachel's group that was keeping them civil at this point. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, as the Second Betrayal was ending, there was a small group of males who had proven themselves to the Amazon Host, taken into houses and their names were written on the Amazon Rolls," I started off. "Two of those males and three male children of one of the houses survived the massacre the female Amazons inflicted on their kin." That bought me a moment. Slaughtering your own babies, even male babies, wasn't something they would shrug off. "Well, if you know your Amazon politics, you know that the children of an Amazon who dies while in service of the Host becomes a member of the Host; so on and so on." The implications were sinking in as was the nervousness. "One of those men was a young warrior named Vranus of House Ishara. I am the sole surviving heir of Vranus. We are also here for the burial of my Father, who was murdered Sunday night. The next bit of Amazon politics. House Ishara was an extinct First House," I continued. "Oh shit," was uttered from half-dozen lips as they moved to the next, obvious step. "The succession to the Head of House for any House is elevation by your peers, accepted ritual combat and; the oldest surviving member of the House," I added. "By the Seven Martial Goddess; don't you have to be female? I mean; We are Amazons!" one of the 'Runners' yelled in disbelief. "Do you plan to add more males to your House?" one of the senior members growled. "Two things; it should not bother you one way, or another, and it is not MY House. It is the House of my Ancestor, Ishara. If this is going to be a problem, you are in the wrong room," I met her hostile glare ember for ember. That one headed for the door. "Wait," a fellow 'Runner' grabbed her arm. "You can't be going along with this Marsha?" the departing Amazon snapped. "I don't know this one, but I trust Buffy," Marsha countered. "Ok ladies, so that we are clear," Pamela sighed. "The next one of you to insult the Head of House Ishara, I am going to drag into the other room, kill you and cut you up into giblets for room service to take away," Pamela sounded positively disinterested. "I am not afraid of you," the departing one glared. "That would be a serious mistake," Rachel interjected quietly. Deep breath from me. "Listen, this is a highly improbable incident. I am not asking anyone to embrace the society you have rejected. In fact, I admire you for the strength it took to transition. I also ask you to accept the fact that I DO NOT want to be here, doing this, with any of you," I made one last effort. "Quite frankly, you man-haters scare me; being a man and all. You seem to think I have a choice in any of this. I don't. I am the heir of Vranus. I am the last known living descendant of the Amazon who chose the name Ishara for the sake of her house's unity," I stated. "I don't want to do this, but I'm not the kind of human being who runs away from my responsibilities." "Okay; Cáel of Ishara, why are we here?" Marsha said as she kept the other one from leaving. "Sixty years ago, the Amazon Houses swore an oath to the women who joined their cause. They lied to you. They have not kept up their side of the bargain. They have refused virtually all of you entry into the status as true, full-blooded Amazons," I explained. "And now you are going to rectify that; injustice?" the senior one kept mocking me. "Fine; you and me; one last chance," I sighed. "Look around you. Who do you see? The prettiest, the most pliable, the most power-hungry? If you can point out one woman in this room that doesn't deserve to be a Full-Blooded Amazon, leave now." "You didn't choose any of us," she responded. "Exactly!" I shouted. "I didn't choose any of you to be in House Ishara. Buffy Ishara and Helena Ishara did. Why? Because I don't know any of you, or your sacrifices and worth to Havenstone. I gave that duty to the two; and only two; member of House Ishara who would know who was the most worthy to be in a First House." "We are here to be inducted," one of the silent Amazons voiced with a dream-like quality. "Yes. Barring being rejected by Ishara, you will be inducted at my Father's graveside tomorrow morning," I stated clearly. "How many?" Senior questioned. "This time; twenty," I answered. "I have no agenda and no set number of 'Runners' to be inducted into House Ishara. It doesn't work

Ryn Gargulinski is an award-winning author, artist, and speaker dedicated to helping others live freely and joyfully.   She founded the Sanctuary of the Wild Souls which aimed at guiding individuals to rise above mediocrity and reach higher states of consciousness.   Ryn has written over ten books, including her memoir How to Get Through Hell on Earth Without Drinking a Keg or Kicking a Garden Gnome.   Ryn emphasizes helping people reconnect with their true selves and break free from self-imposed limitations.   She explains that her work is driven by personal experiences, and she channels insights from her spirit self when writing.   Ryn also stresses the importance of establishing a sanctuary for the soul daily to set a positive tone.   In addition, Ryn highlights the need to remain open to possibilities rather than being fixated on specific desires. LinkedIn: Ryn Gargulinski  Website: Sanctuary of the Wild Souls   Check out our CEO Hack Buzz Newsletter–our premium newsletter with hacks and nuggets to level up your organization. Sign up HERE.  I AM CEO Handbook Volume 3 is HERE and it's FREE. Get your copy here: http://cbnation.co/iamceo3. Get the 100+ things that you can learn from 1600 business podcasts we recorded. Hear Gresh's story, learn the 16 business pillars from the podcast, find out about CBNation Architects and why you might be one and so much more. Did we mention it was FREE? Download it today!

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

Miss JB For Breakfast? JB caught up with Shelly Craft from The Block to wrap up this season of The Block before all the house's go under the hammer.. PLUS, find out what Shell thinks of Garden Gnomes (!!) All that and more in this edition of the JB For Breakfast Catch Up!

My guest this month is Dell Rose. Dell is working on a project for his PhD dissertation on Charles Augustus Tulk and the role that Swedenborgianism played in the reforming societies of 19th century Britain. Though Tulk is often only known as the artistic patron of William Blake, he was also one of the earliest advocates of "public science" and his quest to show the spiritual nature of the material world based on Swedenborg's revelations would be widely acclaimed during the period.In addition to his PhD work, Dell is currently researching the medical theory and physicalism of Franz von Baader. Baader was one of the most important thinkers of 19th century Germany and was instrumental in establishing academic interest in the theosophy of Jakob Boehme, a very important figure in Esotericism.Dell has a lifelong interest in Christian theosophy, and millenarianism; he is interested as well in understanding the role and influence that national mythologies have played in Western esotericism, as well as esoteric currents in Germany during WW1; and also the inter-religious dialogue between Protestantism and Jewish sectarianism.This discussion, however, concerns 'ornamental' hermits. We explore this in the context of cultural history and significance of the garden and the esoteric influences that were built around this idea. The hermit and the hermitage were seen as a 'living experiment" of both esoteric wisdom with regard to the significance of plants and also the atmosphere that they created.As you will hear, this is a complex and nuanced topic, and we consider an array of influences that might have played a part in the obscure phenomenon known as 'eremitism.'PROGRAM NOTESDell Rose Research: Dell J. Rose - HHP | History of Hermetic Philosophy and related currents (amsterdamhermetica.nl)Dell Joseph Rose – Swedenborg SocietyThe curious phenomenon of the ornamental hermit (youtube.com)The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome: Amazon.co.uk: Campbell, Gordon: 9780199696994: BooksGordon Campbell. The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome - Lore - HermitaryFrancis of Assisi's "Rule for Hermitages" - Articles - HermitaryBefore the Garden Gnome, the Ornamental Hermit: A Real Person Paid to Dress like a Druid - Atlas Obscura(99+) RENAISSANCE GARDEN (symbolism, culture, philosophy and phenomenology of Garden) | Lorna McNeur - Academia.eduThe Story | Mother Shipton's CaveDell's former visit to Rejected Religion: RR Pod E27 Dell Rose - Cultural Receptions of Emanuel Swedenborg (youtube.com)Theme Music and Editing: Daniel P. SheaEnd Production: Stephanie Shea

Ever been in a spot where you'd do almost anything to make money? Imagine somebody putting out a want ad to hire an old seedy looking guy to live in the garden at their home. It's true! The ornamental hermit was all the rage among rich folks in the 18th century. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode, Jess discusses what happens once the trio heads out on to the quest. Possibly being Jess's favorite Episode, "We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium" has some interesting comparisons to its book counterpart.

➡︎ Jubal Phone Pranks on The Jubal ShowNeed someone to feel the wrath of a Jubal Fresh character? He'll call whoever you want and prank them... so hard. It's funny. Submit yours here: https://forms.gle/mgACgtLBP3SPcyRR7======This is just a tiny piece of The Jubal Show. You can find every podcast we have, including the full show every weekday right here…➡︎ https://thejubalshow.com/podcasts======The Jubal Show is everywhere, and also these places: Website ➡︎ https://thejubalshow.com  Instagram ➡︎ https://instagram.com/thejubalshow  X/Twitter ➡︎ https://twitter.com/thejubalshow  Tiktok ➡︎ https://www.tiktok.com/@the.jubal.show YouTube ➡︎ https://www.youtube.com/@JubalFresh  ======Meet The Jubal Show Cast:====== Jubal Fresh - https://jubalshow.com/featured/jubal-fresh/  Nina - https://thejubalshow.com/featured/ninaontheair/ Victoria - https://jubalshow.com/featured/victoria-ramirez/  Brad Nolan - https://jubalshow.com/featured/brad-nolan/  Sharkey - https://jubalshow.com/featured/richard-sharkey/ See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

➡︎ Jubal Phone Pranks on The Jubal ShowNeed someone to feel the wrath of a Jubal Fresh character? He'll call whoever you want and prank them... so hard. It's funny. Submit yours here: https://forms.gle/mgACgtLBP3SPcyRR7======This is just a tiny piece of The Jubal Show. You can find every podcast we have, including the full show every weekday right here…➡︎ https://thejubalshow.com/podcasts======The Jubal Show is everywhere, and also these places: Website ➡︎ https://thejubalshow.com  Instagram ➡︎ https://instagram.com/thejubalshow  X/Twitter ➡︎ https://twitter.com/thejubalshow  Tiktok ➡︎ https://www.tiktok.com/@the.jubal.show YouTube ➡︎ https://www.youtube.com/@JubalFresh  ======Meet The Jubal Show Cast:====== Jubal Fresh - https://jubalshow.com/featured/jubal-fresh/  Nina - https://thejubalshow.com/featured/ninaontheair/ Victoria - https://jubalshow.com/featured/victoria-ramirez/  Brad Nolan - https://jubalshow.com/featured/brad-nolan/  Sharkey - https://jubalshow.com/featured/richard-sharkey/ See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Rob and Lach rate and discuss theatre rooms in the house, mandatory collared shirts, retro fashion, celebrity opinions, letting your partner win, BDSM, changing your Zoom background, Lunchly, garden gnomes + walking and eating. Grab 15% OFF SXSW Sydney Badges using our promo code ⁠here⁠. Subscribe to our Dream Big Social Club NEWSLETTER to stay up to date with all things Funny Business + more ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://dreambigsocialclub.beehiiv.com/subscribe⁠⁠⁠⁠ Web ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/funnybusinesspodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/funnybusiness_au/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ LinkedIn ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Lach⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ / ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Rob⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ CONTACT ME (Lach) ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠lach@dreambigsocialclub.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

Happy birthday to Corinne. This episode is dedicated to one of her dream jobs - being a living garden gnome - and the awkward parts of growing up. Magical gray nipple hairs and the moment your contractors politely place your perinatal massager, that very much looks like a dildo, on top of your clean laundry. Today, we are discussing some documented Garden Gnomes from history. Mr. Remington, Father Francis and the Craigslist post requesting a personal gnome.  The job of being a living garden gnome is believed to have started in the early 15th century. Francis of Paola wrote about this hermit living in a cave on his fathers estate. And throughout France, there was evidence of dukes and lords having resident hermits. These people, the hermits, would live on wealthy properties and provide entertainment to their landlords.  But there was always a catch. It might, in theory, be Corinne's dream job, but it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. For example, Charles Hamilton, an 18th century British aristocrat and member of Parliament, wanted an ornamental hermit. He wanted to hire someone for a seven year term contract to live in the sprawling gardens at his Painshill estate, but the hermit was never allowed to speak. He couldn't even talk to the servants who bring him his daily meals. He was required to wear a goat's hair robe, could not cut his hair, nails or beard — EVER. Is the Garden Gnome a Narnia-like-dream-job where you pontificate on worldly philosophies, or a grueling, cruel life of indentured servitude? Have ghost stories of your own? E-mail them to us at twogirlsoneghostpodcast@gmail.com Corinne and Sabrina hand select a couple of paranormal encounters from our inbox to read in each episode (both regular researched episodes and encounters episodes). From demons, to cryptids, to aliens, to creepy kids... the list goes on and on. If you have a story of your own that you'd like us to share on an upcoming episode, we invite you to email them to us!  E-mail them to us at twogirlsoneghostpodcast@gmail.com This episode is sponsored by Pretty Litter, Quince, Hungryroot, and RocketMoney. Nothing beats Pretty Litter's ability to instantly trap odor. Go to PrettyLitter.com/tgog to save 20% on your FIRST order and get a free cat toy. All Quince items are priced fifty to eighty percent less than similar brands. Upgrade your closet with Quince, head to Quince.com/tgog for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns. Hungryroot is the easiest way to eat healthy. They send you fresh, high-quality groceries, simple, delicious recipes, and essential supplements. Right now, Hungryroot is offering Two Girls One Ghost  listeners 40% off your first delivery and free veggies for life when you go to Hungryroot.com/TGOG. Rocket Money is a personal finance app that finds and cancels your unwanted subscriptions, monitors your spending, and helps lower your bills so that you can grow your savings. Stop wasting money on things you don't use. Cancel your unwanted subscriptions by going toRocketMoney.com/TGOG If you enjoy our show, please consider joining our Patreon, rating and reviewing on iTunes & Spotify and following us on social media! Youtube, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and Discord. Edited and produced by Jaimi Ryan, original music by Arms Akimbo! Disclaimer: the use of white sage and smudging is a closed practice. If you're looking to cleanse your space, here are some great alternatives!

Have you put much thought into what happens when you die? Or have you ever wondered if perhaps this wasn't your first time living life? What if our souls reincarnate time and time again, living through various ages, lives and times? What would you like to come back as? Is there a period of time in which you feel drawn to -- could it be from a past life? Sabrina thinks she would have thrived as a little house mouse moving through the bowels of old castles and learning the secrets of the wealthy families while Corinne would like to come back as a Garden Gnome and feels as if she lived a past life during the Ancient Greek times — we are talking pre-Julius Cesar.  This week, we are sharing stories of reincarnation and past lives from our listeners. We'll meet the bread baking ghost named David who we love to believe is haunting the Great British Baking Show, hear of a big booty birthmark that might symbolize a death from a past life, get chills from a horrifying, cold-fingered bird creature and wipe our teary-eyes from sweet stories of family members coming back as newborn babies and a beloved pet reincarnated.  Have ghost stories of your own? E-mail them to us at twogirlsoneghostpodcast@gmail.com This episode is sponsored by MixHers.  From your first period to your first hot flash, Mixhers is a nutritional supplement company that is with you every step of the way. Head to Mixhers.com/TGOG  and use promo code TGOG at checkout for an additional 10% off your order!  If you enjoy our show, please consider joining our Patreon, rating and reviewing on iTunes & Spotify and following us on social media! Youtube, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and Discord. Edited and produced by Jaimi Ryan, original music by Arms Akimbo! Disclaimer: the use of white sage and smudging is a closed practice. If you're looking to cleanse your space, here are some great alternatives!

Garden gnomes have a secret life all of their own. If you don't believe us, then go ask Paris Hilton.Today we discover the hidden history of garden gnomes and meet the eccentric aristocrat - Sir Charles Isham - who firmly believed that the mountains of the world really filled with little folk with pointy red hats and pickaxes.Our guest is Twigs Way author of Garden Gnomes: A History.Edited by Tomos Delargy, Produced by Freddy Chick, Senior Producer is Charlotte Long.Enjoy unlimited access to award-winning original documentaries that are released weekly and AD-FREE podcasts. Get a subscription for £1 per month for 3 months with code AFTERDARK sign up at https://historyhit.com/subscription/ 

April 08 2024   The Witch Daily Show (https://www.witchdailyshow.com) is talking Garden Gnomes   Our sponsor today Is Weed Witch's Journal (https://www.amazon.com/Weed-Witchs-Journal-Kerri-Connor/dp/1088118976/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1RGV7OX2314L2&keywords=weed+witch+journal&qid=1703166852&sprefix=weed+witch+journal%2Caps%2C116&sr=8-1) and   (   Want to buy me a cup of coffee? Venmo: TonyaWitch - Last 4: 9226   Our quote of the day Is: ― “You and I possess within ourselves at every moment of our lives, under all circumstances, the power to transform the quality of our lives.” – Werner Erhard   Headlines: https://ca.style.yahoo.com/lifestyle/rachel-true-craft-reveals-she-144724573.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAL1lwcstaaJgNqPdX1u6KOlpW1DOdQg3KAVKwltl0eJ1pniGv_9TDOA-9ows1yAY2fGwdhu4bR0tQI8UTyOR729kJSNvCxsHub6hKp4mp9fxaTUVyPLlsNJIQJn06BD7sMBb9mDs-S1ixzMEWkXjzJD8qMsoOKChA_wDkMg5-HjU ()   Deck: Jane Austen Tarot (https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Austen-Tarot-Deck-Divination/dp/1524761605)   Other Sources: (https://cashmannursery.com/gardening-tips/2015/history-of-sweet-peas/#:~:text=Fragrant%20sweet%20pea%20flowers%20are,in%20the%2017th%20Century.) Thank you so much for joining me this morning, if you have any witch tips, questions, witch fails, or you know of news I missed, visit https://www.witchdailyshow.com or email me at thewitchdailypodcast@gmail.com If you want to support The Witch Daily Show please visit our patreon page https://www.patreon.com/witchdailyshow   Mailing Address (must be addressed as shown below) Tonya Brown 3436 Magazine St #460 New Orleans, LA 70115

It's so bad, it's really good! Here are Thursday's edition of Dave's Bad Jokes.

Nem, a seven-year-old gnome, has just been given a single lime green seed with which to grow the garden he will tend to for life. Every other seven-year-old gnome tackles the challenge with enthusiasm, swiftly claiming patches of land and getting to work. Not Nem. He is far from ready to make his way in the world. Find out what happens as Nem travels through the forest with his beetle, Mo, and how he ultimately confronts his doubts with the help of a gnome you may remember from "The Gnome and the Seed". ENJOY! If you LOVE THIS EPISODE, PLEASE SHARE IT! Thank you to LIBBY for the super important reminder message at the beginning! Get more of the stories you love, ad-free listening, and access Little Stories for Sleep--a bedtime podcast featuring brand new sleep stories--with Little Stories Premium! Join or GIFT a subscription at http://www.littlestoriespremium.com Find my two picture books, Little Hedgehog Goes to School and Little Fox Can't Wait to Dream at https://www.littlestoriestinypeople.com/books

Another big day of fun Signs You're an Adult, Timewaster, Taylor Swift Watch, and Make us Say WowSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hello and welcome to the Fantasy Rewind Podcast. We discuss fantasy news, shows, books, and all things nerdy. This week Mike and Dylan are breaking down Percy Jackson and The Olympians Season 1 Episode 3- We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium. A show on Disney+ based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. We discuss some of the major plot points and overall impressions.    Let us know your thoughts or perspectives on our socials: twitter- @fantasyrewind. Instagram- @fantasyrewindpod and fantasyrewindpod@gmail.com. We look forward to hearing comments and reactions from you! 

Dis+PercySeries. S01E03 We Visit The Garden Gnome Emporium.    Welcome back to our Riordanverse readalong and analysis podcast!! Here's SZN15 Episode 4, where we discuss the third episode of season one of the PercySeries. In this episode we are discussing how well we think they've handled Medusa's storyline (which is to say, we're BIG fans). We are also losing our minds over the fact that this is the musical episode lmao. We hope you'll join us next week for episode four!!! xx Kate & Jo   GUEST ON THE PODCAST: DSB Heroes Collabs Form   ::SOCIALS:: Follow us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/damsnackbarpod/ (@damsnackbarpod) Send us an IrisMessage to join our community. Email us at damsnackbarpod@outlook.com Consider donating to our ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/damsnackbarpodcast All of our other social media is linked here: https://linktr.ee/damsnackbarpod Episode Guide: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ias3T7SOBIJe-_RDgau-po_7BQqJYS0aZbZ096BKk4g/edit?usp=sharing

Mary & Rhys discuss Percy Jackson And The Olympians Episode 1.03 - We Visit The Garden Gnome Emporium. They unravel the perilous Quest leading Percy, Grover, and Annabeth to face the notorious Medusa in New Jersey. Rhys and Mary applaud the nuanced portrayal of Medusa and explore the character dynamics amidst the mythological chaos. With special insights from Blake, the hosts discuss the episode's direction, writing, and the exciting introduction of Lin Manuel Miranda as Hermes. This episode promises a riveting blend of analysis, humor, and behind-the-scenes revelations for Percy Jackson enthusiasts worldwide.

This episode, we thirst over Medusa, discuss the Greek impulse to add snakes to everything, and deeply appreciate Grover for everything he does Review episodes of the Percy Jackson TV series will continue to release every Sunday! Send us an Iris message at oftheeldestgodspod@gmail.com with your thoughts and theories going forward! We would love to hear from you. Make sure to subscribe so you know when our next episode drops and rate and review if you like what we are doing. IG: www.instagram.com/oftheeldestgodspod/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/oftheeldestgodspod SUPPORT US ON PATREON: www.patreon.com/oftheeldestgods BUY OUR MERCH, PLZ: https://www.redbubble.com/people/OfTheEldestGods/shop Listen to Burn Before Reading: www.deusexmedia.org/burnbeforereading.html Listen to The Restricted Section: www.deusexmedia.org/therestrictedsection.html Christina's Plug: Crochet Follow Charlie: IG: www.instagram.com/greenpixie12/ and www.instagram.com/greenpixiedraws/ Twitter: twitter.com/greenpixie123 Charlie's Plug: wolfythewitch (artist) Raye's Plug: Dominic Noble (YouTuber)

CONTENT WARNING FOR DISCUSSIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT (from 33:55 to 35:06) AHEAD!! This episode, we're joined by Erica and Carter from Seaweed Brain to discuss the third episode of Disney+ Percy Jackson and the Olympians, We Visit The Garden Gnome Emporium, featuring interviews with co-creator Jon Steinberg and costume designer Tish Monaghan. Discussion topics may include: monstrosity, Luke's expectations, getting to know Annabeth Chase, women's wrongs, gifts v.s. curses, loyalty, Annabeth and Grover's relationship, recreating the Perseus myth, and the greatest love story ever told.CHECK OUT OUR NEW PATREON!!!! PJO SEASON 1 PREDICTIONS ARE NOW UP!!!!Have a question? Want to contribute your own analysis? Feel like arguing? Email monsterdonutpodcast@gmail.com.Come say hi and check out the sketches Phoebe made this episode on Twitter, Instagram, or TikTok! @PJOPod on all platforms.Find our new Monster Donut merch here!: https://www.redbubble.com/people/monsterdonut/explore.More information on the show can be found at https://monsterdonut.wixsite.com/podcast.Check out Erica and Carter's podcast, Seaweed Brain, wherever you listen to podcasts!THEME SONG:"The Mask of Sorokin," music and arrangement by Dan CordeGuitars - Dan CordeBass - Quinten MetkeDrums - Todd CummingsRecorded, mixed, & mastered by Todd CummingsOUTRO MUSIC:"Shadow Run," music and arrangement by Dan CordeGuitars - Dan CordeBass - Quinten MetkeDrums - Todd CummingsRecorded, mixed, & mastered by Todd Cummings Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Joined by returning friends of the pod, Kyle Prue and Thani Brant, we delve deep into the infinite, terrifying, and beautiful basement of this brand new portrayal of Medusa, and discuss how this episode structured so tightly around the idea of BETRAYAL propels our favorite characters and relationships forward!!! Where to find Kyle: @KylePrue on Tiktok, Instagram, and Twitter Stream Kyle's webseries Rabbit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=TyRPGZcfjNohaLfc&v=CW-VsxYXEnI&feature=youtu.be "Annabeth should read The Paradox of the Choice" Where to find Thani: @Thani_Brant on Instagram Demos and more information on Thani's musical "The Laugh of the Medusa" can be found here: https://www.thanibrant.com/music Where to find Seaweed Brain: SUBSCRIBE TO OUR PATREON for live-streamed *Tuesday* Watch-Alongs of the Disney+ show! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/seaweedbrain⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ (Anyone can still stream) Our Episodes 1&2 Watch Party on Youtube: ⁠⁠https://www.youtube.com/live/RoNsTTI2whQ?si=tsJGQVlK_clrcyqL⁠⁠ Follow our show on Instagram ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SeaweedBrainPodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, on Twitter ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@SeaweedBrainPod⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, and on TikTok ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@EricaSeaweedBrain⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Check out our merch shop! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.teepublic.com/stores/seaweed-brain-podcast?ref_id=21682⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

In this podcast, the hosts recap Season 1 Episode 3.

Derek and Noah diving into Disney+'s 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians' Episode 3: We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium! On the menu: Percy's quest selection, Thalia's pinecone fate, Grover being the king of consensus, Annabeth in the real world, the myth of Medusa and how it shapes the trio's thoughts of their parents and more! Bonus: Lin-Manual Miranda makes a delivery! Behind the Scenes 'Percy Jackson' w cast, crew, and Rick & Becky Riordan interviews⁠!  ⁠The Cast & Creators on Bringing 'Percy Jackson' to Life⁠  Check out the links below and connect with us!!  INSTAGRAM: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/abiteofpod⁠   TWITTER: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/ABiteOfPod⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  THREADS: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.threads.net/@abiteofpod⁠  YOUTUBE: ⁠https://www.youtube.com/@ABiteOfPod⁠ WEBSITE:  ⁠https://www.abiteofpod.com/⁠  DISCORD: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bit.ly/461OOcf --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/abiteofpod/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/abiteofpod/support