The gang skipped the mystery this week and just talked, and somehow that turned into false teeth, a haunted

house in Hartford City, and a box of Charleston groceries with something deeply unserious buried at the bottom.

It started with Shane's trash company, which has now gone weeks without picking up his can and keeps insisting

in the app that the can was never out there. Then Kim opened the listener questions, and the whole thing got

away from them.

Savannah asked what the most absurd thing was that their grandmothers ever did. Josh remembered dentures

slipping mid-hymn on a church stage, and a grandmother who simply took them out and kept right on singing.

Shane confessed to prank calling his own grandma as "John from the bank" about fraudulent charges in Nigeria

and New Zealand, which ended with her cussing him out and then driving to the bank anyway, just to be sure. And

then there is the story that gives this episode its name. One afternoon Grandma rose out of her chair, removed

her false teeth, kicked off her slippers, and went after a houseguest who had used the F word one time too many

in her house. Shane caught her mid-flight and got dragged the length of the living room for his trouble.

Kim's memories run a little differently. Her grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's while Kim was still in

high school, so the one she holds onto is a camper at Cabin Creek shaking hard enough that Grandma hollered

at Grandpa to knock it off. It was an earthquake.

Trevor wanted to know what one snack each of them would carry into a haunted house. Josh picked Doritos, on

the grounds that they burn. That set Shane off on the night he agreed to go live on Facebook from a house in

Hartford City without knowing it was a haunted house, discovered the only air conditioned room was the one

he then refused to leave, watched a curtain move behind him on camera, and turned down an invitation to the

basement where someone had just been scratched. There was a room lined with mirrors that the owner called

a portal, and a room full of dolls with a Ouija board sitting in the middle of it. He left at one in the morning for a

Holiday Inn rather than sleep on an army cot.

Kat asked whether Shane is married, and he answers that about as directly as you would expect from a man of

mystery. MT asked whether solving a case like JonBenet Ramsey with DNA would ever quiet the arguments online

or only make them louder. Nobody at this table is optimistic.

There is a tender stretch in here too. It was Amber's birthday, and Kim brought her cake for everyone. Josh brought

the news about Dolly Parton, and the room sat with that for a while.

Then Savannah's box got opened, and the trail leads somewhere none of them saw coming.

What you'll hear in this episode:

The trash company saga, and why the chat support keeps insisting it is not AI

Three grandmothers, two sets of false teeth, and one earthquake blamed on Grandpa

Shane's night in a Hartford City haunted house, the mirror room and the doll room

A care package from Charleston, a Bigfoot figurine, and an award nobody asked for

Want to send the gang something? PO Box 690, Wabash, Indiana 46992.

No mystery again this week. Just Shane, Josh, and Kim around the table, and a conversation that gets away fromall three of them inside of ten minutes.

It starts with a word. Shane had lunch with a friend who mentioned that growing up she was not allowed to say the F word or, of all things, crevice. Crevice. That sets off an hour of collateral damage, plus a real conversation about the words that were banned in their own houses. Sucks. Shut up. Hell. Anything that even rhymed with a cuss word. Josh confesses to crawling under the bunk beds to practice swearing where Jesus was the only witness, and Shane remembers the one night in the back of Grandma's Buick when he was handed actual permission to repeat every word their aunt had said, and used it.

Which is the on-ramp to a full Grandma episode. Her purse was stocked like a pharmacy, which is how Shane once got handed two blood pressure pills in the middle of a sermon instead of Tylenol. When he asked if he was going to be okay, she said, "We'll find out." She kept the good candy bars in her panty drawer, right next to a cow taser. And years after she quit smoking, their uncle found a pile of cigarette butts in the grass under her bedroom window, told her a stranger must have been standing out there watching her sleep, and got to watch her stare at the ceiling and say, "Huh. That's weird." The rest of the evidence turned up much later, inside a heavy stone turtle that came apart in his hands. Zoinks.

Shane also finally tells the Eagles Theater story. He accepted a calendar invite with no description, showed up for what he assumed was a normal evening downtown, and looked up to see his own name on the screen between two doctorates. Two hundred people. Doors closing. A panel on community food needs that nobody had mentioned he was speaking on. What he said up there came out of nowhere and turned out to be the most honest thing in the episode: go to the people who are barely making it, because they are the ones who know what next week feels like. That opens into food bank boxes full of things they could not cook with the gas shut off, and a carton of peanut butter milk nobody in this family has recovered from.

Everything else lands where it lands. Josh's tarantula molted and then earned its keep by clearing a man out of his living room. The hissing cockroach Shane's college roommate kept spent a weekend in the freezer and survived it. Death cap mushrooms after the floods. Stop signs in this state you cannot see around until you are already in the intersection. A nine person salt water hot tub that dropped six thousand dollars because somebody drilled one light two inches too low. Josh talking honestly about labels and where he actually lands on them. And Kim stating for the record, more than once, that she is never calling Shane Dr. Waters.

The postcard wall has room on it. PO Box 690, Wabash, Indiana 46992.

Pull up a chair in the bunker. The only thing getting unmasked this week is Grandma.

What you'll hear in this episode:

The words they were not allowed to say as kids, and the one night in Grandma's Buick when Shane got permission to say all of them

Grandma's purse pharmacy, the good candy bars stored next to a cow taser, and the hollow stone turtle where the cigarette butts went

The Eagles Theater panel Shane got ambushed onto, and the food bank answer he came up with on the spot

A tarantula that molted and then cleared a man out of Josh's living room, plus the hissing cockroach that survived a weekend in a freezer

A nine person salt water hot tub discounted six thousand dollars over one crooked light

It's a Josh mystery week in the bunker, and this one comes with a warning: Josh's reading habits are involved. Deep in the Amazon lives a freshwater dolphin that starts life gray and turns pink as it ages. By day, the boto swims the tannin-dark river hunting fish. But in stories told up and down the Amazon for generations, some nights one of those pink dolphins rises out of the black water as something else entirely: a handsome stranger dressed all in white, charming, magnetic, and always wearing a hat. The hat is not a fashion choice. It hides the blowhole he cannot quite leave behind.

He is the Boto Encantado, the enchanted dolphin, and in the legend he appears at riverside festivals as the literal life of the party. He drinks, he dances, he sings, and by dawn he is gone, slipped back beneath the river as if he was never there. The villagers are left with a vague memory of the man in white. That is, until some of the women he charmed begin to show up pregnant. In communities that believed in the boto, naming a river spirit as the father carried more honor than admitting a stranger passed through, and a boto child was a blessed child. Josh has thoughts about this arrangement, and about Mr. Boto's parenting record.

Other branches of the tale go darker. The boto can take people under the river entirely, not to drown them but to carry them down to Encante, a shimmering sunken city beneath the Amazon, the river's own Atlantis. For centuries, that one legend quietly explained the river's drownings, its disappearances, and its surprise pregnancies all at once, in a jungle where jaguars, anacondas, and fast black water gave it plenty to explain.

Josh walks Shane and Kim through where the legend came from, why water spirits in folklore are almost always women (nymphs, sirens, mermaids, even Nessie) and what it means that this one is a man, and how the myth still protects the real animal today. Along much of the Amazon the pink dolphins are treated as sacred, and fishermen work around them rather than against them, a striking contrast with their propeller-scarred saltwater cousins. The species is genuinely endangered, which makes the old story one of its stranger guardians.

Also in the bunker this week: Kim's birthday celebration rolls on with cake and gifts, Shane's grandma's full-sheet-cake miscommunication gets told at last, the robot mower fails to make it home two nights running and has to be rescued from a flower bed, and Josh lands the "multiple porpoises" pun he is far too proud of. Plus a tease for next week: the gang takes on the Idaho student murders and Netflix's College Nightmare.

**What you'll hear in this episode:**

- The real pink river dolphins of the Amazon, and why they turn pink

- The man in white with a hat over his blowhole

- Unexplained pregnancies, blessed children, and folklore as social cover

- Encante, the glowing city beneath the river

- Why the legend still protects an endangered species today

- A sheet-cake miscommunication, a runaway robot mower, and birthday week in the bunker