Long before Santa Claus squeezed down chimneys with bags of presents, Scandinavian families knew something else watched over their homes during the darkest nights of winter—something small, ancient, and very particular about its porridge.

In the folklore of Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Finland, the Tomte (or Nisse, depending on where you're from) has been guarding homesteads for centuries. These diminutive spirits—typically described as elderly men the size of young children with long white beards and red caps—were believed to protect families, tend to livestock, and bring abundance to farms that earned their respect.

But the Tomte's help came with conditions. They demanded cleanliness, proper treatment of animals, and one non-negotiable offering: a bowl of Christmas porridge with butter on top, left out on Yule. Forget the butter? The consequences could be severe—from mischievous pranks like tying cows' tails together to outright catastrophe for the farm's fortune.

Josh Waters takes Shane deep into the world of these fascinating household spirits, exploring their origins in pre-Christian Norse tradition and their surprising connection to modern Christmas customs. You'll discover why the Tomte is considered an ancestral guardian, what happens when you hide the butter under the porridge (spoiler: don't), and how these ancient spirits evolved into the gift-giving Jultomte and Julenisse we recognize today.

Plus: An extended conversation about the brothers' favorite Christmas treats and Josh's meticulous eating rituals that have to be heard to be believed.

• Wikipedia: Nisse (folklore) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nisse_(folklore)
• Ingebretsen's Nordic Marketplace: Legend of the Nisse and Tomte - https://ingebretsens-blog.com/legend-of-the-nisse-and-tomte/

Alright gang, buckle up—because this case gets weird.

In January 1897, a young bride named Zona Heaster Shue was found dead in her rural West Virginia home. The local doctor took one look and said "heart trouble." Her husband Erasmus—who went by "Trout," which should've been everyone's first red flag—played the grieving widower perfectly. Case closed, right?

Not so fast.

Zona's mother, Mary Jane Heaster, wasn't buying it. Something about her new son-in-law just didn't sit right. So she did what any determined mother would do: she prayed for answers. For four straight weeks. And then, according to her actual sworn testimony in an actual courtroom, her daughter's ghost showed up. Four nights in a row. With receipts.

The spirit allegedly revealed that Trout had flown into a rage because dinner didn't include meat—and snapped her neck over it.

Now here's where it gets really interesting. Mary Jane took these ghostly details to prosecutor John Alfred Preston, and somehow convinced him to dig deeper. Literally. When they exhumed Zona's body, the autopsy found exactly what the ghost described: broken neck, crushed windpipe, finger marks on the throat.

Trout Shue was arrested, and what followed was one of the most bizarre trials in American legal history—the only known murder case where spectral testimony helped secure a conviction.

Jinkies.

Sources & Further Reading:

West Virginia Encyclopedia - Greenbrier Ghost

Greenbrier County Tourism - The Greenbrier Ghost

Historical Marker Database - Greenbrier Ghost

The Case of the Vanishing Paralyzed Dude

Like, this one's gonna give you the creeps—and there's not even a guy in a rubber mask at the end!

Picture it: June 1763, a spooky little English town called Shepton Mallet. There's this old timer named Owen Parfitt just chillin' in a chair outside his sister's cottage. And here's the thing—the dude couldn't walk. Like, at all. Hadn't moved those legs in years!

Farm workers were right there in the field, practically close enough to wave. Travelers on the road. Witnesses everywhere!

His sister Mary goes upstairs to change some sheets. Fifteen minutes, tops.

She comes back down and—the chair's still there. His coat's still there. But Owen?

Poof. Gone, baby, gone.

No footprints. No screaming. No nothing!

The whole town searched through a gnarly thunderstorm—woods, ditches, ponds, wells. Everywhere.

They found absolutely zilch.

Now here's where it gets really weird. Mary—his own sister—went to her grave saying Owen got "carried off by the Devil." And the neighbors agreed! See, rumor had it old Owen spent his wild years as a soldier, sailor, pirate, and maybe even dabbled in black magic down in the West Indies.

Fifty years later, some lawyer tried to crack the case. Interviewed witnesses. Nobody could get their stories straight, and the last person to see Owen alive gave super suspicious testimony.

Even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle called it "one of the most piquant mysteries" in British history.

So what happened? Murder? Kidnapping? Actual demons?

Like... we may never know, man.

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Wabash, IN 46992

We'd love to hear your thoughts on Owen Parfitt's vanishing—or share your own mysterious encounter with The Bunker.