From Within: A Tale of the Macabre
Sep 29, 2026 · 12 min · 8 segments
Mrs. Henderson's cult continues to grow, much to her neighbor's chagrin. Mr. Peterson throws his weight around but receives little for it. Finally, an unlikely alliance reveals an existential threat…
It was quite the tricky day.
March 19th.
Mrs. Henderson, owner of the leather pantsuit made from her presumably deceased husband's skin, has amassed quite the following with the revelations she has received from what she describes as the new gods.
One does not need to be a convert to learn of her new religion, as everyone can hear her proselytize from her backyard across the entire neighborhood.
Quite the vocal power she has, which she attributes to her years performing her one-woman show, Botox, the Songs of Cher, for Carnival Cruises.
Apparently, the Gaidoj family, the ones who built an effigy to their own dark deity of worship, the pagan god Baal...
Did I mention the effigy is constructed of wicker and reeks of kerosene? It has taken great
offense.
As I
sat on my balcony with Catherine, we saw the entire family, including five-year-old Juanita Guidos, all cute in her black robes and pale makeup with black lipstick and black eyes, gathered in front of Mrs. Henderson's house, all the while chanting some phrase that sounded somewhat like Latin as spoken by a deranged
porpoise.
At first, I assumed Mrs. Henderson did not notice as she was bearing witness at full volume to a group of devotees in her backyard.
But she was a wily one and soon began to condemn those who worship the dead religions and how the gods of old were vanquished by the coming of the new.
Initially, this all appeared to be a standoff, what with Mrs. Henderson and her followers chanting some vile phrases in her backyard while the guidoshes chanting their own from the street.
Whatever power each respective cult drew forth through their enthusiastic but honestly quite repetitive summations apparently cancelled each other out.
I had had just about enough of it all and had decided to retire when Catherine bade me to wait just a few more moments.
To be honest, I was a bit cross with her request as I had grown quite weary with it all.
Plus, there was a fresh batch of ancient aliens for me to stream.
But then, to my surprise and amusement, a tiny thundercloud just the size of Mrs. Henderson's property appeared over her house, looking very ominous.
Very ominous indeed.
Catherine expressed nothing but delight as she loves tiny versions of things, even thunderclouds.
Mrs. Henderson's chant soon grew quiet as I am sure she noticed the oddly specific weather pattern situated just above her house and yard.
The dark cloud hung there for a moment, and then a torrential downpour, again only covering about a quarter acre, let loose, along with copious amounts of tiny lightning and tiny thunder.
All in all, it was quite the light show, although the screaming was a bit off-putting.
It was quite the tricky day.
March 19th.
Mrs. Henderson, owner of the leather pantsuit made from her presumably deceased husband's skin, has amassed quite the following with the revelations she has received from what she describes as the new gods.
One does not need to be a convert to learn of her new religion, as everyone can hear her proselytize from her backyard across the entire neighborhood.
Quite the vocal power she has, which she attributes to her years performing her one-woman show, Botox, the Songs of Cher, for Carnival Cruises.
Apparently, the Gaidoj family, the ones who built an effigy to their own dark deity of worship, the pagan god Baal...
Did I mention the effigy is constructed of wicker and reeks of kerosene? It has taken great
offense.
As I
sat on my balcony with Catherine, we saw the entire family, including five-year-old Juanita Guidos, all cute in her black robes and pale makeup with black lipstick and black eyes, gathered in front of Mrs. Henderson's house, all the while chanting some phrase that sounded somewhat like Latin as spoken by a deranged
porpoise.
At first, I assumed Mrs. Henderson did not notice as she was bearing witness at full volume to a group of devotees in her backyard.
But she was a wily one and soon began to condemn those who worship the dead religions and how the gods of old were vanquished by the coming of the new.
Initially, this all appeared to be a standoff, what with Mrs. Henderson and her followers chanting some vile phrases in her backyard while the guidoshes chanting their own from the street.
Whatever power each respective cult drew forth through their enthusiastic but honestly quite repetitive summations apparently cancelled each other out.
I had had just about enough of it all and had decided to retire when Catherine bade me to wait just a few more moments.
To be honest, I was a bit cross with her request as I had grown quite weary with it all.
Plus, there was a fresh batch of ancient aliens for me to stream.
But then, to my surprise and amusement, a tiny thundercloud just the size of Mrs. Henderson's property appeared over her house, looking very ominous.
Very ominous indeed.
Catherine expressed nothing but delight as she loves tiny versions of things, even thunderclouds.
Mrs. Henderson's chant soon grew quiet as I am sure she noticed the oddly specific weather pattern situated just above her house and yard.
The dark cloud hung there for a moment, and then a torrential downpour, again only covering about a quarter acre, let loose, along with copious amounts of tiny lightning and tiny thunder.
All in all, it was quite the light show, although the screaming was a bit off-putting.
The rest of this transcript — segmented and speaker-labeled, so you land on the exact moment something was said
Search every transcript — by keyword, by phrase, or by meaning, across every show Radar indexes
Trends — what is surging across podcasts, measured against its own baseline
Alerts — when a name you follow appears in a newly indexed episode
No account is needed to search Radar.
