Greetings, fellow seekers of the unknown. It's Brian and I'm here today to share something truly extraordinary with all of you. As you know, my journey to uncover the truth of all things strange has taken me on a wild ride filled with incredible experiences and encounters with the unseen. And today I want to share that journey with all of you by introducing you to Hanger one Publishing. Hanger one Publishing is the premier destination for books on all things strange and mysterious,
from Bigfoot to cryptids, UFOs and the paranormal. They cover it all, and let me tell you, the books in their catalog are simply amazing. One book that I'm particularly excited about is The Freeman Bigfoot Files by Michael Paul Freeman. This is no ordinary book, my friends. This is an immersive experience unlike any other. With Hanger One's proprietary immersive book technology, you
can see and hear audio and video in the printed books. You'll get exclusive access to the highest resolution, full color premium print pages, over a hundred full color photos, and dozens of exclusion audio and video clips that have never been revealed until now. It's a one of a kind experience that will take you deep into the world of Bigfoot. Another book that I simply can't recommend
enough is The Bigfoot Influencers by Tim Halleran. This book features candid, compelling conversations with the biggest names in the Bigfoot community and it will give you a behind the scenes look at what they really think about this mysterious creature. You'll hear from researchers, scientists and investigators and get a glimpse into the inner workings of the bigfoot world. And finally, for all of my fellow British Bigfoot
enthusiasts, I want to mention Beast of Britain by Andy McGrath. This book is a must read for anyone interested in the cryptids of the British Isles. McGrath has spent over twenty five years researching and obsessing about these unknown creatures, and in this book he shares his findings and current research. It's a journey into the darkness where nobody ventures into the woods anymore and where the many yet
to be discovered Beasts of Britain lie. So if you're ready to take your journey into the unknown to the next level, then you need to check out Hanger one Publishing. These books are more than just books, their gateways into a world of mystery and discovery. And the best part. You can find their entire book catalog and Hanger one Publishing dot com. So what are you waiting for? Visit Hanger one Publishing dot com today and let the journey begin.
Now. I know what your reporting. I got a strain of going on here. Something just killing my dog. Something killed your dog, my dog. We're flying to or over the trade. I don't know how it did it? Okay, dam and I'm really confused. Also, I thought my dog coming over the fence, and they would have did when you hit the growler. I entertaining cards although I thought it was my dog coming over the fen What are you reporting? We gotta some one or something crawling around
out here? Do you see what it was? Cout here? Looking near the window now, and I don't need anything. I don't want to go outside. Jesus great, anybody here, Hello, get somebody out here. What's goin on out there? I thought up a bit about sixty four night. I don't know easy out there? Yes, the brook a right heady. This next story comes out of my hometown in Lenoir, North Carolina. One of my friends told me about an experience she had back in early February
of twenty twenty three in the foothills near Lenore, North Carolina. She had rented a room in a secluded house at the top of a mountain to live in while she was waiting on her apartment to become available in the next six months. A night al she enjoyed sleeping through the bustle of the house during
the day and watching her smart TV at night. Her bed was nestled on the far side of the room, beside the only window, with a small end table against the wall and her bed, and it perpendicular to her bed near the bathroom door. Her television was perched atop the dresser so that she could sit or lay in the bed and watch her programming easily. She kept it on all the time for company. Because her room was in the far back of the house and was illuminated by a bright led security light thirty feet
away, she never really worried about anyone looking in on her. She had no curtains on the window to speak of, there was no need. That cold winter night, it was raining, she had drifted off to sleep while watching her television, but something suddenly woke her up. Over the top of the air conditioner, she could see a large looming shape blocking the light through the window. She set up in her bed abruptly, though she didn't have
her glasses on. She saw two dark figures with conical heads, silhouetted against the security light, peering in her window, apparently at the TV. One was taller than the other, about six foot four, and the other one
was about five foot eight. She noticed they both had huge shoulders. Their faces were partly illuminated by the light from her room, so even without her glasses, she could see that their dark eyes were set back in their heads, and both of their faces were partly covered with what looked like scraggly, dirty blind whiskers. Startled by her movement, the two figures jerked away, and she set up quickly further in the bed to see what was happening.
She saw them move rapidly to the honeysuckle covered fence separating the woods from the back of the building and vault over it into the darkness. She distinctly remember seeing them reach for the top of the fence, and in a flash they were gone. She assumed that the two men were dressed in identical black hoodies and clothes, but the two men would have fled to the left of the right along the yard between the building and the fence to get away. Frightened,
she called nine one one. The County Cheffs came out with dogs and investigated, but found nothing. There were no tracks and no sense for the dogs to follow. It was still raining. I heard about her experience the following morning from folks who knew her, and I later sat down and spoke to her at length about what happened. She laughed when I told her that I thought she may have been visited by a pair of big foot. She
soon moved to her apartment on the third floor of an apartment house. Some time after that, I took the opportunity to go measure that window in the fence behind her room. The distance from the window to the fence was about seven feet of grassy yard. The height of the fence itself was about four feet. At the time of the incident, the fence was covered with about
a foot of tangled vines and brush, which has since been cleared. That would have made the barrier between the intruders and the woods at the time about five feet tall over the fence, the hill dropped off steeply into the woods. Whatever it was that night, crossed the yard and leaped over the fence into the woods in mere seconds. The Piska National Forest is only about twenty miles from where she was living in the area as heavily wooded in between.
As I said, she eventually moved into town, into a third floor apartment and she could sleep comfortably knowing that nothing can stare into her window at night, or can it. A teenage girl and her friend encounter what she describes as a black haired, red eyed ware wolf in her yard on a moonlit night at her summer home on Shelter Island, New York. She writes, I'm a born and raised Long Islander, so are my parents. They met out east, and in islander talk, that means the east end of the
island. To any New York rich kid, that means the Hamptons. But for the rest of us, who are coincidentally not millionaires, it means the North Fork. Not to get too geographically confusing, but Long Island is accurately named a long island that forks off about three quarters of the way down its ninety miles, it stretches. It kind of looks like a fish with its mouth wide open, with the North Fork being where the eyes are. In the Hamptons of the Jaw, Shelter Island is somewhere in the middle, like
a smaller fish about to be eaten. My mom's family had a summer house on the North Fork, and my dad had a house on Shelter Island. My parents met while we're at a summer job, and the rest is clearly history, but super long explanation. Sure, I grew up getting to pretend to be boogie because I had not one, but two summer houses. I know, right, Shelter Island is my favorite place in a lot of ways.
Just the island itself feels magical. The only access is by ferry, and while you're traveling there, you feel like you're being transported into a different world. But the picture of Shelter Island in the summer is very different than in the winter. In the summer the population rises to about twenty thousand people, but in the winter not more than two thousand. So I was around thirteen or fourteen, and I'd invited one of my best friends to come out
with the family for the weekend. I was so excited. It was one of the first times she would be able to. I remember that our bathroom was being renovated, and so the only other bathroom we could use was in the dank, dark basement, and the only connection to the house was by going outside and down the stairs and then down another set of stairs into the basement. So it had to been around ten o'clock and we went down to
the bathroom to brush our teeth. The moon was almost full, so bright it provided some lights on an island that street lamps were few and far between. If it wasn't for the light of the moon, we would have probably passed the creature altogether without realizing it, because out there you can hardly see two feet in front of you when it's so dark. As we were coming back up the stairs laughing about something menial, that's when we saw it.
It was about ten feet away with its back to us, lurking near my shed. We both froze and did that thing where you take a quick breath and hold it involuntarily. That made the creature notice us. It's head whipped around and its eyes were glowing a kind of blood red. It didn't look angry, but rather like a feral dog, not knowing how to react to these two teen girls. It was observing, almost as if not to scare us. It slowly rose up to full size, which I would guess to
be about seven feet tall. The whole time it never broke eye contact. I felt like I could fall in to the pits of blood that were its eyes. It was covered with a long, black, shaggy hair and had thick human like legs. After standing there, frozen in fear for at least a full minute, all the while still in the staring contest, we both regained control of our feet and ran upstairs, screaming from my parents. We saw a werewolf. We saw a werewolf. My dad went out first,
and we followed. My dad quickly dismissed it and went back inside a bit disgruntled, but I could have sworn that I saw a bush near where it was move. Over the years, I've had many theories, one of which is that the native people who lived on the island before the white men are
responsible, as shape shifting legends are prevalent in the indigenous people's cultures. Maybe it's the descendants of the people who stole this land cursed to turn under the full moon, choosing isolation to protect their secret, well at least for nine months out of the twelve. Anyway. A supposed dog man encounter and Waller Counter, Texas results in the eyewitness changing their normal routines because of the fear
that they may encounter this beast again. Our friend and I came across this amber eyed creature in April twenty twenty three in Pattison, Texas, in Waller County. It was around eleven thirty pm when we cut through Morton Road. We backed out onto the dirt road as fast as we could, and then we drove south on Dirk and and turned left onto Royal Road, the entire time looking over at the open field with our spotlight and with the one rifle we had in the truck. Once we made a ride onto three sixty two
and headed south, we began to feel a little bit more relaxed. We took it all the way south to three fifty nine and then made a left on the Highway ninety and we didn't stop until we made it to our friend's house. We were coming from Pattison, Texas, where one of our friends lives. We also liked to go through that patch of Morton Road during the day because it's like off roading. We originally thought of heading to Royal High School on Royal Road, but instead we decided to turn left and off road
at night, and that's when we drove past Morton Road. That's when we came across what we thought was a really large dog until it turned around and stood up on two legs and growled at us. It was a growl, but it was deep and low. It rattled the entire truck. One of my friends told me later that the only thing they remembered about it was that the breathing sounded like a horse. My buddy's truck is lifted, and usually when I stand in front of the hood, it's around the high part of
my chest. I'm five eight, but when this thing stood up, you could see almost the entire waste area, so it had to be way taller than me. I can't give you an exact measurement because I just don't know. All I know is this thing wasn't a bear. I've seen lines of black bear before. When the spotlight caught it, it looked like my buddy's German shepherd with amber glowing eyes. Maybe it was just a big dog or a wolf or a bear with mange, but it was pretty tall and pretty
wide. It happened so quick, so we put it in reverse and got the hell out of there, and we drove all the way to Kay without stopping anywhere. Then we barricaded ourselves in with the ar fifteens and shotguns, sitting in the middle of the dark with our backs against each other for the rest of the night. We didn't leave the house until midday. On Sunday, had checked the dashboard camera, which had recorded over the entire incident the
previous night. Our cell phones recorded nothing but jumble and my buddy's dog wouldn't come near the truck as it kept whimpering and running around with its tail between its legs. The dashboard camera recorded all the data. On Sunday, we went through it, but the only thing that was recorded is when the truck was parked at our friend's house. The cell phone quality was so bad we erased it. I dropped my phone on the floor of the truck and didn't
find it until Sunday afternoon. It's not like we were planning something like some of the videos you see on the web. Monday morning came and we all called in see it because we refused to get out of the house until the sun was out. This obviously upset our parents, who thought we were just being irresponsible, and we finally got up the courage to return to Morton Road on Monday afternoon. Our six trucks enter Morton Road off Durkin Road with high
power semi assault weapons, shot guns and hunting rifles. We didn't find any tracks either, which was weird because it rained heavily the past few days and the ground was soft where this thing was standing on Morton Road. The only thing we did find was this horrible stench that smelled like something had died, with the mix of metallic smell like blood and urine or ammonia. We brought two German shepherds with us, who were whimpering nervously the whole time we were
around the site. After the incident, I spent the rest of April just reading everything I could about dog man encounters. My other three friends don't want to talk about it at all, and one of them even broke up with his girlfriend of three years because he refused to spend the weekend out hiking with her through the Attics Reservoir hiking trails. They eventually got back together after he was able to work up the courage to open up about it. But I'm
the only one that's put this out there in the public. It's been a month and I still refused to be out later than sundown. I don't leave the house early in the morning anymore to go of the gym at five am like I used to. In fact, I've changed my whole life around completely, and that includes no more before bed walks at night with a dog. I've installed security bars on all my first floor windows and added spotlights around my
entire house. I also don't drive through the country roads anymore, even during the day, especially by myself, because I feel so exposed. Last week, I refused to go fishing on the Bravos River, and I turned down heading out for the weekend to Lake Conro. I've always wanted to go fishing out on the East Bay, but to get there you'd have to go off road on a four by four west of the beach on a dirt trail about
fifteen miles in and after this experience, I no longer feel safe. I just want to go back to being ignorant about the things that go bump in the night. A Michigan boy encounters a mine speaking juvenile sasquatch while walking home. My first experience with a sasquatch was when I was living in Wyoming, Michigan. I was eight years old. It was the last day school and I decided to set out across the plowed fields to save me about twenty minutes
on my walk home. None of the other kids wanted to come with me, so I headed off towards home. I would always sing as I walked, and not to go into depth, but I learned how to mind speak at a very young age. As I was walking, I saw an old red truck facing me, sitting to the ride out where the two fields met. The wheels were gone, as well as all the chrome windows and the lights. The passengers draw was closed and the driver's door was opened. About
halfway. I looked at it and saw no one, and I walked around to the back, not looking in. As I passed. You must have been laying in the cab and heard me singing. I got about twenty feet away and I heard in mind speak, what are you doing here? Like you would say it if you locked the dog up and then you found him sitting on the porch a few hours later. At that point in my life, all I knew was mine speak with angels, so I thought it must be friendly. So I turned around. I saw what I thought was my
friend and my best friend's brothers. I didn't ask any questions why he could mind speak, because I figured everyone could do it if they wanted to. I started walking towards the truck. He leaned forward out of the driver's door window area. As I walked, I asked, what's your name? Then I heard something like the word ken. I walked within a few feet of him, and he leaned out further. He was looking down just a bit, and I was looking up. I would say he was at my ten
o'clock. We just stood there and stared at each other. His skin was like my mom's kid gloves. It was much thicker looking than mine. He did have freckles and red hair. His nose looked like my brothers, which had been broken so many times from so many fights that even after surgical repair, it looked flattened and broad. He had finished lips and teeth like ours. His eyes were a golden brown and to me showed expression. I got the distinct impression that he was young, maybe in his late teens. As
we stared at each other, I started asking questions. Now, please remember I was only eight years old. I first asked him, and mind speak, how come your parents let you grow your hair so long? He didn't answer, but I could see a smile coming across his face. And then I asked, why are you allowed to go to school with the beard? Then? Where's your neck? I can't see a neck, And with that he broke into a smile. As I was going to ask him another question,
his attention was broken by something to his left. He looked back at me and with a word expression said go now, with power in the words. I turned around and quickly started walking away. I got to the hole in the hedge that separated the field from the street and a four foot drop, and turned around to wave goodbye. He had exited the truck and was standing on the other side of the cab. I was shocked that he was so tall. My dad and grandfather were about six foot four inches tall,
and he was at least a foot or more taller. He was looking around to my right, but I could not see what was going on from the protection of the hedge. He was flailing his arms and he saw me standing there and he said go now, don't come back. I said, you're mean, but I didn't want to move. All of a sudden, I heard someone screaming and realized it wasn't me. He had sent what I could
call a cloud of fear at me, and my body reacted. I turned around, I jumped down the embankment, through the hedge and ran down to the street to my house. When I got home, I told my mom about what had happened, and that he had red hair and that his name was Kenny. She said she would find out who he belonged to. That meant his mom, so she could smack some sense into him. Well. Two days later, my mom came back home from the store and she told
me that she had stopped at both farms attached to the fields. Neither of them had a red headed son. My mom claimed check a saw a ridge heritage. She followed native beliefs and told me that Kenny was a forest person living in the woods. I told her that he was nice at first, but then he told me not to come back. She said that if he told me not to go back there, then I'd better respect his wishes and
not go back there again. And that was that. Until that point, I believe that he was just one of the boys that hung around with my friend's brothers. And I have to add he smelled. I would have told him that he needed a bath. I was shocked about the forest people, but I was pissed about not being able to go back there to see him again. As the years passed and I grew older, I realized that he wasn't being me. He was protecting me from whatever was coming from the woods.
I got the impression that he was not supposed to be there either. Shortly after that, we moved out of the state. This whole thing is like it happened yesterday. I can close my eyes and see him clearly. And this happened in nineteen fifty seven. The fields are all houses now. I haven't heard of this type of thing happening to anyone else, but I'm sure it has, so I'm including this so they know that they aren't alone. A wild man captured in the woods of Paduca County, Kentucky in eighteen
eighty three among the passengers. The other night bound from New York on the Day Express was a wild man who occupied a seat in the smoking car number one fifty three. He was accompanied by James Harvey and Raymond Boyd, his captors, both of whom belonged to Paducah, Kentucky. They had three second class tickets to New York, which privileged them with three seats in the smoking
car of any first class train. When the Day Express arrived at Broad Street station at eight o'clock, James Harvey ran down to the platform into the restaurant and purchased a box of sardines and some sandwiches for the wild man's supper. His companion remained in charge of the wild man. The wild man was dressed in citizen's clothes and wore big cloth shoes. His hair reaches nearly to his
waist and falls over his shoulders, completely covering his back. His beard is long and thick, while his eyebrows are much heavier than those of an ordinary human being. There is nothing imbecilic in the wild Man's manners or actions. He cannot talk and seldom makes any sound except for a low growl like a leopard. His actions are much more like those of a hyaena of the zoological
garden. Raymon and Boyd, who seemed to have perfect control over the wild man, said his body is covered with coarse brown hair as thick as the hair on a horse's hide. The palms of his hand looked like the paws of a bear, and his finger nails, which were over an inch long, resembled the claws of an eagle. He was first seen in Paduca County thirteen years ago and was known as Mom the Hermit because whenever he was accosted,
all he would say was Mum's the word. He lived in an old pine hut in the woods for about five years and was seldom seen by anyone. Finally, he abandoned the hut and took his abode in a cave under the ledge of rocks known as a lizard Rock. A little over six years ago, two or three citizens of Paduca County, while out hunting, saw him running to his cave without a stitch of clothing on him. Three years ago, it was discovered that the thick coat of hair had grown all over
his body. Boyd and Harvey built a trap for the man, and it took over three days before he entered it. He was not afraid of any bird or beast of prey, but ran terrified away from any who approached him. It took two days to accustom the man beast to their presence. The tinkle of a small dinner bell they used had great influence over him. He watched the bell intently, but would not touch it. Some time ago, a farmer missed a calf and two sheep which had strayed off. They were
eventually tracked to mum's cave. All trace of them was lost, and it was supposed that he had devoured them. In the cave, which he had occupied for the last seven or eight years, Boyd and Harvey found the skeletons of many small animals and the skins of over fifty snakes, some of the skins belonging to the most venomous species of reptiles. The floor of the cave was alive with red and green lizards, and hundreds of toads hopped about.
The wild man ate the box of sardines voraciously, and the two sandwiches which were handed to him were greedily pulled apart. He ate the ham and threw the bread away. Whenever a train passed on the opposite track, he would crouch down in the corner of his seat, stricken with terror. After the train had passed, he would put his hand up to his ear and listen with a look of animal cunning, stealing out with restless eyes, like a
panther about to pounce on its prey. Every time the engineer would blow the whistle, the wild Man would grab the back of the seat in front of him with both hands and hold on until the whistle ceased blowing. Boyd had a little tin music box which he manipulated with the crank. The tune that it played was empty as the cradle, and it was ground again and again, to the great satisfaction of the ex hermit, who sat and looked at
it silently, but wouldn't touch it. When Conductor Harry Smith took out his glistening nickel plated punch to cancel the tickets, the wild man watched the punch intently until he heard it snap. Then he got down in the corner of the car and set fairly shivering with fear, and set up a low howl,
supposing evidently that Conductor Smith was about to wing him. Boyd and Harvey said that there was a story to the effect of the wild Man had originally come from North Carolina, and that during the war he had been a sharp shooter on Bald Mountain, and shortly after the war he had murdered a whole family of settlers in the mountain and left. Boyd and Harvey appear like shrewd
fellows, and they expect to make a fortune out of their prize. Their great anxiety and fear is that the authorities will interfere with them and claim that the man is simply a lunatic and place him in some institution. They had the snakeskins in a box in a baggage cart, together with some of the other curiosities they found in the cave. Boyd said that the wild Man will not touch anything but fruit and meat, which he eats ravenously, much the
same as any other wild beast. Cigar smug bothered him a good deal, and he kept driving it away with his clawed hands. When the train arrived in Jersey City, the men took a carriage and said they were going to take the New Haven night boat and avoid the day crowd. Stay tuned for more sasquat jealousy will be right back after these messages. A US Harmy veteran
and his son or hiking and camping in the Idaho Forest. After quickly breaking up camp at night because of a nearby grizzly, they encounter a terrifying creature that he believes was a big foot in the Idaho Forest. My son, Samuel, and I had an interesting experience in the summer of twenty ten that made me a believer. I had just returned from my rack a few months earlier, having served two tours in the US Army. I was pretty confident
in my abilities and the capabilities of my weapons. I was also confident that I was very familiar with this location, as I've been coming there almost annually since I was fourteen years old on backpacking trips. It was still a little too early to go backpacking, and there was still a lot of snow that had not yet melted. But I had to get the trip knocked out because I was due to report back to a new duty station in just a couple of weeks. Seven years prior, a friend and I had walked to this
lake. There was something odd I noticed on the way up. There was a footprint. It looked like a child's foot, probably about seven inches long. It was clear and deep. The trails are covered with sharp edged shells, so a child walking up their barefoot would be highly unlikely. The funny thing is I bent down to look at the print, but walked off and didn't think anymore about it. The place we walked to was about ten miles
in. We only saw two other people on the way in. They went to the first lake for a few hours of fishing, and then they rode out on motorcycles later that evening. Besides us, there were only two other people, a couple that were signed into the trailhead, and on the way into the lake we had about a half a mile ago, I heard a couple of gunshots from a high powered rifle, which was odd because most backpackers only carry a pistol, if anything at all, and they rarely shoot up
there. Upon arriving at the campsite, I noticed that a motorcycle that the couple had come in on had been chained to a tree. They had apparently ridden motorcycle as far as they could go and then hiked in the rest of the way. Sam and I set up the tin and started a campfire. Sam wasn't feeling well, so he laid down for a nap. I hung a bare bag, filled canteens and all the rest to be ready for the next day's hike, which was going to involve a lot of walking. Around
nine forty five pm, the sun was making its last appearance. I peered out of the mesh window of the tent as I settled into my sleeping back, and what I saw off the window was the biggest grizzly bear I had ever seen. It was on the other side of the large stream that separated the camping area from the other side of the trail. I reached from my rifle and unzipped the tent just enough to get the muzzle of the rifle outside. The first warning shot went unheeded, and the second only made the bear
walk back just a bit. I watch, knowing the bear was not leaving. I had Sam keep the weapon oriented on the bear, and I broke camp in about five minutes. We only had about ten minutes of daylight left to put some distance between us and the campsite. We had on our head lamps for a light on the way out, but the batteries were going dead. This is an area where fire had come through many years ago, and there was a lot of standing and falling dead trees. At this point,
we were hearing wood knocking. It was a phenomena that I was familiar with because I enjoyed watching Bigfoot programs. It's not as if someone had a baseball bat and was pounding on some of these old dead trees. Sam asked me if that was normal, I would spend a lot of time outdoors. I knew it was not, but affirmed to him that it was indeed normal. By that time, an unseen creature was pacing us, even though the terrain it traveled through was uneven and encumbered with deadfall. Sam and I were on
a trail and could not distance ourselves from it. Sam was in the lead, and at one point when he turned around to speak to me, his head lamp illuminated four sets of eyes. Three sets were green and one set was red. We heard what sounded like claws on the trees, and then one set of eyes, the red ones, came directly towards us. I told Sam to run, as the eyes were slightly ahead of us to the left. I ran towards the red eyes and fired off some rounds into the
fallen trees just off the trail. I did this in hopes of scaring the animals away. I've read that Bigfoot has in red eyes. I can't say for sure if there may have been wildcats in the trees or something else explainable. All I know is that I felt an irrational fear which was telling me to get out a little bit. Further on, we met further up on the creek that paralleled the trail. The stream was probably about five feet deep at that point, and out of nowhere a huge rock was thrown into the
water. It was obvious that the rock was huge because of the kerr plump sound that it made when it went into the water. I told Sam to run, and I kept watching to see if anything was coming up behind us. I faced rearward on the trail, allowing Sam to get some distance away. I saw what looked to be a large figure I would say approximately eight feet tall. It was across the trail behind me, probably about fifteen to twenty yards back, and there was just enough light to see it move.
But the figure wasn't dark in color. I figure it must have been gray, as I wouldn't been able to see anything that was darker. I decided at this point not to take any more shots because it was dark and my mind and my nerves were frazzled. I began to question my own sanity, and I felt like I was losing my mind. It would probably be safer not to fire any more warning shots, as I'd already fired six to eight shots already. I put the rifle safety on and ran after Sam. About
an hour later, Sam and I returned to the truck, exhausted. They say, you don't wantta go home, but you can't stay. I don't want job that time. Everything. Call it baby, baby, my joy for me to stay right you call it right away, I'll try. Forsssssssssss used to us.