Lezboween 2022

Are you a self-identified lesbian who feels under represented during Halloween? If you are looking for some good 'ole fashioned dyke centered ghost stories and a Sapphic Slasher story that will put Michael Myers to shame? Or perhaps you are in the mood for a modest séance. Tune in! Courtesy show note links: Join the Self-Identified Lesbian Community Support Group on Facebook. And, you are always welcome to pay a visit to in-heat.com. 

Contact: doris@in-heat.com
Facebook: Self-Identified Lesbian Support Group
TikTok: @lezbodorisanderson
Currently GrrrlCotting Twitter
Website & Exciting Blog Posts: www.in-heat.com
Homo Producers & Creative Team: Lisa Haas & Sally Sockwell

Shout out to all the late-in-life-lesbians!

Transcript

Season 1, Episode 5 “Lezboween 2022”

Doris: [00:00:01] Trick or treat, Dykes are sweet, Give us something good to eat.

If you don’t, We don’t care, We’ll pull down your underwear.

Just Kidding!

I’ll tell you who’s gonna pull down your underwear – Mildred Ratchet! That woman. Can someone tell me where she parks her broom? I need to go egg it!

Well folks, it’s that spooky time of the year again! I hope you enjoy this re-run of our annual Halloween Special.

Boo!

[SOUND: Thunder and lightning, followed by a wicked witch laugh, followed by the theme song.]

Singers: Who’s walking down the street on her beat? Who’s volunteering because she’s so sweet? Doris Anderson, she’s the lezzie lady that you all want to meet. She’s sexy, she’s sapphic, she’s Doris Anderson, and she’s in heat.

Doris:[00:01:07] I’m Doris Anderson and you’re listening to IN HEAT – a community service podcast for self-identified lesbians – and – anyone else out there who wants to support lezboween content. Vampires, werewolves, witches, goblins and  GBTQAI allies welcome.

Happy Lezboween everyone! This is our spooky holiday special where you’ll have to watch out for dykes that go bump in the night!

Content Warning: If you’re one of those folks who gets scared easily – keep your lights on while you’re listening!

During the month of October, who doesn’t like a good old fashioned scary story? Some people even love horror movies!

And why is this?

Well, you know, they say there is some kind of truth behind every ghost story. They say that horror movies are a safe way to examine our unconscious fears.

I don’t know about you, but I feel very underrepresented during the month of October, with everyone gearing up for thirty-first of the month – in fact, don’t all you self-identified lesbians out there feel completely erased from the world of horror and ghost stories?

Does anyone out there, think for one second that Chucky is gay?

Does anyone think that Freddy Krueger is bisexual?

And all of those campfire ghost stories? Like, the one about the couple making out on lover’s lane – and they both get strangled by the mysterious creeping hand? I’ll bet your 20 dollars that hand doesn’t belong to a queer person.

Look, everyone has a nightmare.

Miss America is terrified a copy of that porn movie she made oh so long ago will surface.

A computer systems analysis is afraid they will get caught playing fantasy football.

Everyone knows a ventriloquist’s fear is losing their voice!

But all these things are so heteronormative!

I KNOW it’s NOT an unconscious fear of MINE that some ax murderer will burst through the door and chop me up while I’m wearing my best thong and having sex with some teenage boy.

I KNOW it’s not an unconscious fear of MINE that I’ll accidentally marry a man. And then get pregnant. And then give birth in the back of a burnt out convenience store to a Zombie baby – because – just hours before my water broke, I was bitten by a Zombie.

What are lesbians are afraid of???

Look, these are the kinds of nightmares lesbians have:

Lesbians are afraid that someone will T-bone their Volvo while they’re driving to the WNBA playoffs.

Lesbians fear getting old and being confined to a wheelchair. Because if they use public transportation, the minute the other riders on the bus hear those motors grinding to drop that wheelchair accessible ramp, they’ll all hate you.

Lesbians are terrified they’re going to run into their ex with her new girlfriend while they are still single. In fact, one of my listeners, Suzie, not her real name, wrote to me how she just broke up with her girlfriend of 20 years. And she confessed that she is afraid of being alone for the rest of her life.

Well, yes, that would be extremely disappointing Suzie. It’s like a sailor, isn’t it? It’s like a sailor lost at sea for 50 years. 50 long years – everyone else jumped ship decades ago and she is the only sailor left.

Until one night, when there is a full moon, the sailor looks over the bow and sees a mermaid in the ocean – a beautiful mermaid who is completely stacked and clearly has a steaming hot vajayjay – so hot and steamy that she can boil lobsters in it.

And the sailor see’s the mermaid making eye contact and swimming toward her. She sees the mermaid start to climb up the side of the ship, getting closer and closer – and the mermaid finally gets on deck and slithers over to the sailor – and the sailor braces herself, thinking she’s going to have a transcendent sexual experience – and as the mermaid begins to unbutton the sailors pants, the sailor sees the words tattooed across her chest “Visiting Angel”. It’s a Visiting Angel mermaid who has come to change the sailor’s adult diaper – after which the mermaid leaves her little business card and then slips back into the ocean.

Suzie, that was an interpretive response to address your deepest fear.

[00:06:27] And now for a good ‘ole fashioned Campfire Ghost Story! Here goes:

A high school student named Joanie was a member of the gay/straight alliance, which is how she landed her fist babysitting gig when someone in that group told her about a lesbian couple, who were wealthy gallery owners, and were looking for a babysitter.

After an intense phone interview Joanie was hired to watch their two children while the couple went out for their weekly date night.

As Joanie entered the solar paneled postmodern house, she was impressed with their small wind farm located in their enormous backyard.

She thought the windmills looked pretty as they turned in the moonlight.

Inside the stark white cavernous living room, she was surprised by the many sculptures. They actually did look like real vaginas. And she had to touch the marble breast to assure herself they weren’t real.

After she put the kids to bed, Charlie and Bobby – who both had the same sperm doner from the most exclusive sperm bank which only carried sperm of Mensa members – she went to watch TV in the upstairs bedroom.

The parents asked that she watch TV in their bedroom because it was on the same floor as the kid’s bedroom and the children had been having nightmares recently.

As she settled down to watch TV she noticed in the corner of the bedroom room a life-sized clown statue. “It was creepy,” she thought. It didn’t seem to fit the style of their other art work. Perhaps that is why it was moved into the corner of the bedroom. She tried to ignore it, but it was just too creepy.

Finally, she called one of the moms to ask if she could watch TV downstairs instead.

"Sure, but why?" the mom asked. Joanie reply’s, “That clown statue is just creeping me out too much.”

There's a pause. "Get the kids out of the house now!" We don't have a clown statue!"

How about that? [laughter] Scary, huh?

[00:08:41] And now a word from our sponsor.

Unfortunately, we still don’t have a sponsor and I am wondering how all of these other podcasts get sponsors??

Like, “Crime Junkies” – they just have one sponsor after the next.

I have to admit that I’m a little jealous those two gals, the hosts. They have no shame. They give the gory details of the worst murders.

I mean, I have some real-life, hair-raising things I can tell!

Like, I used to live in this old, old apartment building and I thought, “By golly, I bet there are some antiques in that basement.” But God, it looked like no one has been down there for decades because the door had 5 rusty locks on it. And there was this foul smell lingering around it.

And I was telling one of my more spiritual friends about how I suspected there were probably some forgotten antiques in the basement I’d love to get my hands on -- and I bet -- I could finally get on the Antiques Roadshow!

And my friend said, “Why don’t you go look to see if there are any antiques down there?"

And then, my spiritual friend shared this positive affirmation with me:

She said, “Never be afraid to explore the unknown because that is where the secrets lie.

Then, she wrote it on post-it note and stuck it to the mirror on my bathroom medicine cabinet.

So I thought, that was that.

So the next morning when I woke up, what was one of the first things I saw? That note

“Never be afraid of the unknown because that is where the secrets lie.”

Well, I immediately marched to the hardware store and bought a fire ax and came back to my building and broke the locks right off. And even though the only illumination was a sliver of light coming through a basement window, I took a big breath and ran down those stairs to discover some shallow graves. And though it gave me the willies, I just tippy-toed right over those bodies because I knew there was something unknown in the very back of the basement.

And there is was – a little hand-made rag doll from the turn of the century, in near perfect condition, and I knew this would finally give me shot at getting on the Antiques Roadshow!

Do you get it?

The point of this real-life story is not about The Antique Road Show – it’s about a bunch of shallow graves!

Here’s a hint, it was in the 1970’s, in 6-floor walkup below 14th Street on the east side in NYC.

Now sponsors, can you imagine how many millions of crime junkies are going to download this podcast so they can solve this crime?

Think about it.

And that’s been a word from our not sponsor.

[00:11:48] And now back to our program.

[Instrumental theme music swells in and fades out.]

Here’s a slasher movie story for all you lesbians out there who are tired of seeing hertero horrors.

This is the story of “WICKED WOODS TERROR: A Sapphic Slasher Story.”

Part One.

There was a group of girls from the local high school who decided to go on a one night camping trip. They were young, supple and not sophisticated enough to get their survival gear together. They went camping in pantyhose and stiletto heels. And they giggled.

They giggled girly giggles while pouting out their lower, lipstick lined, lip.

As they made their way down the trail laughing at tampon jokes, and walking on gravel, they kept slipping in their stiletto heels and falling down and skinning their knees. They weren’t even aware that they hurt themselves, not because they were drunk, but because they were such sluts.

They were naughty sluts. Asking for it, and gosh darn, were they ever gonna get it.

They had to cross a river and many of them fell in the water, so by the time they made it to the campsite they were soaking wet. So wet, their nipples were showing.

The girls all wanted to start a fire, so with their limited, yet provocative knowledge, they rounded up some rocks into a circle put a pile of twigs in the center. 

Luckily, Brandy, who was the first of all these girls to get her period, had a lighter.

But the twigs were so damp she just couldn’t get any of them to catch fire.

They needed something else. Something more flammable. Something that wasn’t wet.

Well, guess who the one person who wasn’t wet was?

Matilda. The only girl who didn’t fall into the river.

Matilda was a nerd. And prudish. And a goody two shoes. And she was uptight.

She was so uptight that she wore this crazy girdle.

It was so thick there was no way in hell anyone would ever see her nipples. In fact, it was so thick it was practically a mattress. In fact, it had warning tag on it that said, “KEEP AWAY FROM FLAMES”.

Matilda was ashamed of her body. Ashamed that she was so flat chested. Needless to say, she stuffed tissues so it would look like she at least had modest breasts.

Because it was so obvious that Matilda stuffed, the other girls said, “Hey Matilda, give us some Kleenex so we can use it as kindling to light the fire.”

Matilda's first instinct was to say no. But she knew the other girls didn't really like her, and she wanted them to like her. So she said, “OK.”

And she reluctantly stuck her hand into her girdle and pulled out the tissue covering her left breast. 

And when the tissue was removed, all the girls could see her nipple through the fabric of her T shirt, blouse, sweater, and, windbreaker.

So then they said, “Give us the rest of the Kleenex”  leering at Matilda’s chest.

As Matilda pulled out the rest of the Kleenex and wondered, is this it? Is tonight the night where one of those orgies she had heard about would take place – and would she get to be a part of it? By the looks on those other girls faces, the answer was “yes.”

The giggling gang of girls lit the Kleenex on fire and dropped it on the pile of twigs that went up like a flash.

A flash back.

Matilda had a flashback.

A flashback to the time she was in 4th grade and it was Halloween. So of course, all the kids wore their costumes to school for the Halloween party.

Matilda went to the party dressed as a sailor. And several other children asked her, “Are you a girl or a boy?” And Matilda thought, “They can't recognize me in this costume.”

But then it slowly it dawned on Mathilda, what her classmates had been waiting to ask her all year long. But Halloween made it seem like it was an innocent question.

What they really wanted to ask was, “Are you a lesbian?”

And in Matilda's heart of hearts, she knew she was a lesbian.

Though she didn’t quite know exactly what a lesbian was, she knew whatever it was, it was her.

Matilda burst into tears and ran out the door of the school, and ran all the way home.

And as she was running, she made sure she was on “the other side” of the street as she passed That House.

That House on 1369 Oak Road.

She tried not to look at the words that were spray painted on That House, oh so long ago.

Dyke. Lezzie. Carpet Muncher. Spinster.

And even though she wasn’t looking, she could see these words from her peripheral vision and it made her eyes sting.

You see, years ago, there was a reclusive older lesbian who lived at 1369 Oak Road. The towns folks referred to her as “that old butch lady”.

And every now and again, a young mother from the neighborhood would disappear. Up and vanish.

Husbands never knew if they came home from work if their wife was going to be there or not.

And then,  someone was murdered.

It was Genevieve.

One night the neighbors could hear Genevieve screaming from inside that house. And they all formed an angry mob and stormed the house with pitchforks, baseball bats and flashlights.

They kicked in the front door and there they found Genevieve – headless. But there was no sign of That Old Butch Lady. They just found a pair of Doc Martens, a fine selection of teas and one Marijuana plant.

However, the back door was hanging open, and one could only guess, That Old Butch Lady had escaped and was now living in the woods.

The woods where Matilda and the slutty girls had just started a campfire.

Someone pulled out a half pint of whisky and was passing it around.

[00:08:21] “It’s getting dark,” Matilda warned.

Wanna play strip poker? Asked one of the slutty girls. Their eyes where wild, because they knew Matilda didn’t know how to play poker and once they got a look at her nipples, they weren’t going to take ‘no’ as an answer.

Plus, they had to get started soon, because it was going to take many hands of poker just to even get down to Matilda’s girdle.

As the cards were being dealt, it slowly dawned on Matilda that they were in the very spot, where every Halloween since That Old Butch Lady disappeared a dead body was found.

In a panic, Matilda pulled her Day-Timer out of her nap sack and frantically flipped through it.

Today WAS October 31st! She had lost all sense of time due to her excitement of being asked to join these girls.

“Hey, hey everyone, it’s Halloween…” Matilda could barely say loud enough to be heard

“We know”, said Brandy, “That’s why we’re here – to party.”

“But, but, every Halloween someone is murdered here” Matilda stuttered.

“Oh, that’s just an urban legend,” said Cassandra, “Don’t be such a baby.”

Matilda was shocked Cassandra said that, since she was after all, the daughter of the late, headless, Genevieve.

“But your mom…” Matilda started to say.

“SHUT UP! I don’t wanna talk about that Matilda. Are you going to show us your tits, or not?!”

Matilda was about to answer when a Great Horned Owl swooped over the campsite!

All the girls screamed!

And then they all sighed with relief and had a good laugh.

Matilda was so relived, and so giddy, she unzipped her windbreaker.

When suddenly, from out of nowhere appeared The Old Butch Lady. And boy, she was REALLY old by now, so old she could barely pull the starter handle on her chain saw.

End of Part One

Folks, I’m sorry to say you’ll have to wait till Halloween 2022 for part two! But don’t you love a good cliff hanger?

[00:20:46] And this brings us to the end of our program and our Pet of the Week.

The Pet of the Week is brought to you by the Alphabet City Cat Rescue & Shelter where we’re always looking for volunteers to help our furry friends.

Because Lezboween is upon us, I would like to spotlight a cat named Wampus.

Wumpus is a 15 pound, beautiful silver and black American Short Hair cat. He is neutered and also dead.

I found out about Wampus through an email from one of my lonelier listeners. She writes:

Dear Doris,

It has been one year since the passing of my beloved cat Wampus. But sometimes, it feels like he’s still prowling the house. I know that can’t be possible, because I buried him myself in the backyard.

It all started about six months ago when I heard a barely audible meow coming from the bathroom. And of course, nothing was there.

Things started to escalate when I came home from work one day and found the kitchen cabinet door hanging open. And every day afterwards there would be something amiss. A plant knocked over. A dead mouse in the bathtub.

But then, one day after work I smelled something from behind the couch. I looked and there was a pile of fresh animal feces!

I thought raccoons had gotten into the house!

And then, the next day I came home, I opened the door and stepped into the living room – AND SAW A PILE CAT DO-DO in the middle of the Persian rug.

I screamed and ran out the door. And the neighbors called in an EDP, and the cops showed up and they were kind enough to go inside my house and look around.

But when they came out they said, “Lady, we didn’t see any excrement.”

And I said, “Are you kidding me?” And I ran inside – and it was gone!

Is there such a thing as ghost poo? Is Wampus, my sweat Wampus haunting my house

Doris, can you please help me?

Sincerely, Celeste.

[00:23:00] You know, spirits hang around when they have something unresolved they need to communicate before they are at peace.

Celeste, nothing says – pardon my French – “Fuck you from the grave,” like a phantom turd in the middle of the rug.

There is definitely something that is keeping Wampus from passing over.

So I am going to hold a séance right now to try to make contact with the spirit of Wampus to see if he has a message.

But before I do that, I want you to know that I am in no way a professional clairvoyant. Or fortune teller. Or visionary. I am just an ordinary person, like yourself who Google's directions on how to hold a séance.

However, unlike yourself, I am a person who has volunteered for cat rescues and shelters for decades. I've seen it all. So I am prepared to be a medium and hopefully make contact with the spiritual world.

Technically you’re supposed to have at least three people at a séance, but it’s really hard to get people on board about this.

Now, I am lighting a candle…

[Sound of a match striking and flaming.]

…and I have prepared an enticing sardine.

[Sound of a dish clinks.]

I am reaching out to Wampus the cat, please join us when you’re ready.

I am reaching out to Wampus the cat, please join us when you’re ready.

Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Wampus the cat, please join us when you’re ready and make your presence known.

[Sound of a cat meow.]

Thank you for joining us! What a good kitty you are! Good kitty!

Wampus, your human Celeste thinks you have a message for her.

Oh! Ohhh…

Wampus says he loves you!

He says he misses sleeping with you!

Oh. Uh huh. Alright. I think I understand. Ok. Alright.

Celeste, Wampus just wants you to know, that you did not clean his litter box daily. And because of that, he had to poop on top of poop.

Ok – yes, yes, I’ll tell her.

Celeste, Wampus says you would never poop in the toilet and not flush it, and them come back again the next day and poop on it again, and still not flush it. And then come back one more time to poop and then maybe, maybe flush it.

Wampus – I am sure Celeste is very sorry and would do anything to make it up to you to free your spirit.

[00:26:17] What do you want Celeste to do? 

Mmmmm. Sure. Yes.

Celeste, Wampus wants you to adopt a cat from a cat rescue.

And, what?

He also wants you to foster Guinea pigs because he likes the way they smell.

Anything else, Wampus?

Oh! Oh! Wampus is passing over to the other side! Thank you Wampus! You’ll never be forgotten!

Celeste, I’ll shoot you and email and I will connect you with the Alphabet City Cat Rescue and Shelter - and - your local Guinea Pig rescue.

Well, that’s all for today folks!

I hope you enjoyed this Lezboween special! If you did, please “LIKE” us on Facebook, or pay a visit to our website, www In dash Heat dot com – that’s also where you can read a complimentary blog post that accompanies today’s show. 

I’m your host, Doris Anderson, and you’ve been listening to IN HEAT. 

[SOUND: Thunder clap.]

END