I'm Already Scared with Dr. Adam
May 28, 2026 · 35 min · 12 segments
The boys are having a great time being culturally insensitive again. Aaron has to strap a boom box to his bottom. Zak lays down on every bed he can find. Nick won't take his jacket off in the heat…
Thank you very much to Nicole for giving me the story and giving me permission to read it to you.
Nicole says, "I grew up in a normal house in Ohio, built in the '60s, in a neighborhood, totally normal.
On my 12th or 13th birthday, sometime in the late '90s...
Anyway, I had a slumber party.
A group of girls and I crowded into our basement and brought out the Ouija board." Nicole, fucking don't, don't do this.
I was a kid in the same era.
I had friends.
My friend across the street, Kate, God, I was so in love with her, she had a Ouija board.
It was the only thing I would not do for that girl is play with a Ouija board.
But anyway.
Nicole says, "I know, how cliche, but we were young and dumb, and we thought we contacted a ghost named Floyd." Was he pink? "Nothing real spectacular happened besides the letters spelling out a name and the lights flickering once." That would freak me out.
She says, "The next night I was in bed, two stories away from the basement, when I heard knocking on the wall.
I ignored it, and it came again.
One knock, pause, pause, knock.
This went on for a few minutes before I said out loud, 'Okay, stop it,' and it stopped.
After that, things get a little spooky.
Nothing ever touched us or anything real wild, but the absolute fear my siblings and I felt in certain parts of the house was terrifying.
None of us could go upstairs without the paralyzing fear something was behind us.
My sister's bedroom was constantly colder than the rest of the house.
We had to stop using her big closet to play in because it scared us so badly.
I felt something watching me when I moved my room in the basement for a couple years.
The worst was our dining room.
The feeling of being watched from both the exterior door and the garage door was so strong.
We kept our computer in there, so to use the internet, we'd just have to endure the feeling like somebody was out to get us." Okay, pause.
Thank you very much to Nicole for giving me the story and giving me permission to read it to you.
Nicole says, "I grew up in a normal house in Ohio, built in the '60s, in a neighborhood, totally normal.
On my 12th or 13th birthday, sometime in the late '90s...
Anyway, I had a slumber party.
A group of girls and I crowded into our basement and brought out the Ouija board." Nicole, fucking don't, don't do this.
I was a kid in the same era.
I had friends.
My friend across the street, Kate, God, I was so in love with her, she had a Ouija board.
It was the only thing I would not do for that girl is play with a Ouija board.
But anyway.
Nicole says, "I know, how cliche, but we were young and dumb, and we thought we contacted a ghost named Floyd." Was he pink? "Nothing real spectacular happened besides the letters spelling out a name and the lights flickering once." That would freak me out.
She says, "The next night I was in bed, two stories away from the basement, when I heard knocking on the wall.
I ignored it, and it came again.
One knock, pause, pause, knock.
This went on for a few minutes before I said out loud, 'Okay, stop it,' and it stopped.
After that, things get a little spooky.
Nothing ever touched us or anything real wild, but the absolute fear my siblings and I felt in certain parts of the house was terrifying.
None of us could go upstairs without the paralyzing fear something was behind us.
My sister's bedroom was constantly colder than the rest of the house.
We had to stop using her big closet to play in because it scared us so badly.
I felt something watching me when I moved my room in the basement for a couple years.
The worst was our dining room.
The feeling of being watched from both the exterior door and the garage door was so strong.
We kept our computer in there, so to use the internet, we'd just have to endure the feeling like somebody was out to get us." Okay, pause.
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