Episode 74: The Good Shepherd

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I mean, you practically live with each other already, but that's great. Did you hear that, Joe? Yes. Thanks for letting us know. I see you've updated your universal credit claim. Now you're going to be living together. If you're telling other people about change in your circumstances, tell us to to avoid a penalty. Search tell DWP. Construction shapes our communities. The buildings, roads and bridges we rely on every day. It's why the industry's most innovative companies trust Procore as the leading technology partner for every stage of construction. Procore connects teams from the site to the office on one global platform. Over 20 years of serving construction, we know that anything is possible when we build together. Learn more at procore.com. This is your business. This is your business supercharged with the help of zero accounting software. This is managing cash flow. This is managing your cash flow with the help of zero accounting software. These are your customers paying you. These are your customers having more ways to pay you with the help of zero accounting software. This is your business supercharged with the help of zero. How can you show your cash flow by giving your customers more ways to pay so now you can focus on making your business boom. Supercharged your business today with the help of zero. Search sir with the next. Old Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences. So listener discretion is advised. Baker's Gap Tennessee 1989. The woods that laid either side of Big Gap Road were just as dark and ominous as he feared. Bryce Adams sighed and shook his head as he and his girlfriend Crystal hiked up the hill from the turn off the main road where they'd stashed her uncle's work van. Bryce had been here for three whole semesters and still wasn't used to what his parents in Nashville called the country life. He'd flunked out of Vanderbilt after a boring year spent working in the mailroom of his daddy's law office, found himself attending a small four year school in Tipton. It was the ass end of nowhere but hell, the weed was good. He'd found a group of fellow weirdos who were obsessed with Lord of the Rings and black Sabbath as he was. Once he met Crystal who was East Tennessee born in bread. The situation became downright tolerable. The woods however had never been a place that Bryce Adams felt truly comfortable. I mean sure he liked to get high and put on a cloak and go out in the trees and imagine he was a hobbit from time to time. Their D&D group had even gone on an overnight camping trip where they'd gotten dressed up and rolled dice around a fire and that had been a blast. But this was different. This wasn't role playing and they definitely weren't pretending to be druids or rangers. When Crystal introduced their small circle of friends to her uncle's Scotty who she said practiced real magic like Aleister Crowley shit, things had changed. His roommates Franklin and Drew, dedicated stoners like himself had read just about everything there was to read on Crowley and the golden dawn and all the freaky things they got up to. Being red blooded mostly straight boys from the south they were more than down for trading rolling dice to rolling around a campfire with witchy local girls in the name of a little sex magic. It was kind of weird to think that his girlfriend's uncle was the one organizing these parties but he tried not to think about that too much. Scotty was pretty cool for an old dude, I suppose. He kept them supplied with weed and twice a week they gathered to his place out in Caney Hauler to learn about a cult masters like Crowley and Kenneth Grant as well as some hillbilly shit their family had believed in for generations. According to Scotty there was power to be had and all the trappings that came with it. Money, sex, a lot of luxury and leisure. Brice would take any help he could get to obtain the ladder. While his family came from old Nashville money he'd always been sort of the black sheep of the family. At least in comparison to his brothers one of whom had become a lawyer while the other was currently in med school at Vandy. Given Brice's grades and a few unfortunate encounters with law enforcement he imagined he might have maybe a couple years for his daddy cut him off entirely. Now as the year wore on the fireside sexy times and troon driven spirit quests had seen a significant decline. Crystal told him to be patient. That her uncle needed them to do other things now to open the path to their glorious future. Lately however those other things seem to mainly consist of doing weird shit to scare the locals. Scotty had them roam around the gap in a weird mix of goth makeup and their Middle Earth inspired garb to freak the mundane as he put it. In Scotty's words the purpose of these shenanigans was to create a sense of unease and though setting their ways and let them see the dark future that lurks around the corner give them a glimpse of what shall be after their kind has passed on from this world. Privately Brice thought it was horseshit but it wouldn't do to voice that opinion to Crystal who clearly idolized the man. Local news reports were full of far fetched stories about animal sacrifice and devil worship and their group was partly to blame for that. Scotty had a habit of sending them out on their excursions into the woods with buckets of Kentucky fried chicken for the evening meal after which they'd have a great old time chucking those bones into the fire and getting up to the devil's business with their lady friends. A few imaginative park rangers who discovered fire pits full of blackened bones in the state forest had run to the local media with tales of Satanous stalking the woods east Tennessee and that's all it took to get the rumor mill churning. It wasn't like they were hurting anybody. Brice told himself it was just a little harmless fun to stir up the energy for the rituals Scotty had promised to teach them when the time was right. Scotty had started inviting them out to an old barn on Peter's branch where there were older people in attendance. Folks cut from different cloth than Brice and his college buddies. These were not the philosophy majors and trust fund babies that Crystal had recruited into the fold as spooky wind addressing but rather the teeth and claws of a cult. Though no one would ever use that word. The men were hard. Most of them looked like they'd spent time in jail with their craggy faces haunted eyes and weathered skin covered in the faded newsprint of old stick and poke tattoos. He saw how they sneered at him and the other boys in their makeup and costumes when they came by the barn after a night on the town. Scotty liked to call their little escapades. The women were different. They reigned from timid little shadows who looked at Scotty like he was Jesus Christ himself to the Marlboro throated biker queens who would just as soon spill your guts with a switchblade as look at you. Brice's friends learned quickly that the younger women in the group were off limits to them. That they risked the wrath of those vicious mother hens by even starting a conversation with one of the girls near their age. Scotty seemed different at the barn gatherings too. Less like Crystal's cool uncle and more like some sort of preacher motivational speaker. He'd go on and on about how the world had wronged people like them and how there was a way to tear it down and those who had built empires on their backs he'd ramble for hours about folks that were long dead and how close they'd come back then. The world was ripe for the picking and the door was open but the faithful had lost their nerve at the last minute and those with the real power hold the secret power they had to take back had swooped in and slammed the door shut in their faces. Scotty had asked for their solemn pledge to never let that happen again and Brice and everybody else in that old barn had been so fired up by the tall man's passionate die tribe they'd sworn that oath without question. After that Brice and his friends weren't invited back to the barn meetings. Instead they met with Scotty at his trailer in Caney Holler where he told them what happened out at the barn was no longer their concern. He had a special purpose in mind for them and each of them had a role to play. And they hadn't even questioned it. The atmosphere over at the bar ventured a little too close to church services for their taste anyway. Franklin had also privately shared his suspicion with Brice that Scotty was running heavier dope out there and didn't want Crystal getting into anything harder than weed. So they progressed from weird people out in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly to knocking on doors asking creepy questions. They didn't quite understand the point of those but they followed the script and acted the part per Scotty's direction. Next he had them sneaking around abandoned houses digging up dirt from their yards. They almost got shot at a time or two and while it had been scary as hell. Oh it had also been a rush. Every time they completed one of Scotty's assignments Brice could feel things changing, could feel himself changing. He wouldn't have dared to do half the things he'd done at the urgent of Scotty Blankenship before he came to Johnson County but now oh he felt bold and strong. At times he felt like he could do anything and why not? No one was stopping him. People were scared of him and there was power in that just like Scotty had promised. So here they were about to take on the most dangerous and illegal mission Crystal's uncle had ever tasked him with and Brice was close to shitting his pants. When Scotty had sent him to watch the funeral home he hadn't thought much of it. He figured it was just another way to fuck with the normies and when Scotty told him to dress down, jeans and t-shirts only he'd been surprised but not really concerned. When Crystal had produced a Manila envelope containing photos of two men, a woman and their license plates. Well he started to get nervous. The pictures of the folks they were sent to watch had been Xerox from old newspaper articles. In one an older woman with short gray hair smiled out from a staff photo attached to a brief item announcing her retirement from the local school system. In the next clip in the men one middle aged and the other clearly in Papua territory held up two massive muskies. The text documented their record catches in a father son fishing tournament at Douglas Reservoir. There weren't any images of the younger man exiting the funeral home with them who seemed unremarkable with perhaps the exception of his expensive looking black suit. Brice and his girlfriend watched from the front seat of a brown work van Scotty had provided them as the foursome prepared to leave. The two men from the photo in a pickup truck and the retired teacher and young man in her car. Crystal began fiddling with the CB radio which she told him they would use to let the folks back at the bar in on Peter's branch know that their targets were on the move. That's just how she put it like they were in a James Bond movie or something which had only increased Brice's anxiety. Still he put the man in gear and followed the two vehicles out to Big Gap Road at a careful distance. The instructions issued over the CB next came directly from Scotty himself. Breaker, breaker this is Bo Peep. Good Shepherd you got your ears on. There was a moment's silence before Scotty Blankenship's voice slithered out of the speaker mounted by the kick panel. Well clear Bo Peep. What's your 20? Over. We're on our way to the church picnic Good Shepherd y'all need anything? Over. We're all good on our end Bo Peep. Got the rest of the flock and all the picnic superlines in order. Now I heard there might be a wreck out that way. Should you see anybody needing help you do the Christian thing and offer them a ride why don't you? Sun's going down. Nobody needs to get hurt fighting their way home in the dark now do they? Over. Heard that Good Shepherd we'll do. See y'all soon. Over and out. Brice swallowed hard and took a steadying breath as he drove. He was thankful they were only expected to act as backup for this particular task. Their job was to slip onto the north end of the property, pitch a tent and start a campfire so they looked like nothing more than a couple of college kids camping out. The spot Scotty had directed them to was far enough out in the woods surrounding the house that they could plead ignorance to trespassing if discovered and move on. The others would knock on the door of the tall house on the hill. But instead of asking questions, their assignment was to bring the man designated as their new hope back to Scotty's place to hear his particular brand of the good news. If anybody made a break for it through the woods behind the house while they'd run right into a nice normal looking pericampers, the kind of folks who'd be happy to give somebody running for their lives a ride back to town. They'd get in the van and then they'd be off to the barn on Peter's brand, which all the same. Brice had just finished laying in the wood for the campfire when he got the feeling they were being watched. Dark was coming on fast. And the woods around him were rapidly disappearing behind a curtain of encroaching gloom as the setting sun withdrew its golden light. He shook his head as if to clear it and peer it into the deepening shadows. Oh, he was just being paranoid. He knew he shouldn't have smoked before coming up here. He needed to get this fire going for it was too dark to see what he was doing. There was gas can back in the van. Wasn't the safest way to light a campfire, but he was in a hurry. He turned the head back down the hill to fetch it when the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked stopped him in his tracks. Yeah, stop right there, young filler. You got about five seconds to tell me what you're doing on the Walker's land. So, uh, talk fast. When the heart grows cold home is nowhere then your mind is well. When darkness calls run like hell. Company. What do you mean we're expecting company? Archie Stallard went to the front winter and peered down into the driveway. I don't see nobody coming down the drive and there ain't nobody pulled up out there. Miss Bell, Miss Marcy always said the wards around the Walker house are some of the strongest there are that nobody mean and harm could even come on to the property without you all being able to stop them. If trouble does come, they should keep it safe, right? Bell shook her head. Wards have to be fed and charged regularly. And I just moved in here last year. This place sat unoccupied for almost five years. Ellie couldn't bear to come to the house for a long time, so she wasn't keeping up with them and will. To be honest, wards were always Marcy's specialty. And in any case, nobody is needed the kind of protection this place used to offer in a long time, so we just kind of let them go. Are y'all talking about some kind of security system? Like y'all got tripwires and alarms out there on the property or something? Sort of, Archie, there's not a lot of time to explain. The wards I can't keep up with just let me know if someone's arrived or if there's something big like a bear passing through. We've not had to deal with the sort of things we had to back then in a long time. So if any Archie's weirdos come knocking, I guess we'll just have to meet them at the door and ask them what they want. Archie's style returned from the window with a slightly sour look on his face. Oh, y'all are talking about that kind of thing. Miss Bell, you mean to tell me you're wrapped up in all this strange and dangerous stuff too? This stuff, as you call it, Archie Stallard is in my blood. Marcy and Ellie Walker are my aintes. My whole life has been wrapped up in things that are strange and dangerous in some way or another. Before Archie could respond, the distinct sound of a shotgun blast rang out from the woods behind the house. All three of them started and stared toward the backyard. Cowboy scowled and closed his eyes as if he were listening to something that neither Miss Bell nor Archie could hear. Kid, are you okay? Cowboy had risen to his feet and was pulling his coat on. Y'all stay here and lock the doors. I'm gonna see what's going on. You're gonna run toward gunfire, kid. I know you think you can't die in hell. Maybe you can't, but that's just stupid. That might not have had anything to do with anything we've been talking about. Could just be hunters or, well, I guess, poachers if they're on Miss Bell's land. Best thing we can do is call the sheriff as if to put the lie to Archie's suggestion. Two smaller caliber rounds echoed in the distance and the shotgun roared again. Unless the deer had learned to shoot back, it was not hunters. The young man shook his head. I'm just going to take a look around. I'll be right back. With that, Cowboy Abshure bolted through the kitchen door heading toward the woods that bordered the north side of the Walker Property. Although he had spent his time in Baker's Gap on the other side of town or down by the reservoir, Cowboy felt a comforting sense of familiarity here. The crunch of leaves underfoot and the rustle of small critters in the underbrush had formed the chorus of his childhood. He could smell the crick that round its way down the east side of the property, and there was a purity and clarity to the scent that took him back to being a boy. Following his big brother and his friends through the woods to whatever adventure awaited them. When the trail broke at the edge of a small clearing in the trees, Cowboy's feet came to such a sudden stop that he almost stumbled. His thoughts of adventures pass colliding with the present scene before him. For a moment, he had the disconcerting sense he had stepped into a frame from one of his old buddy Shane's adventure comics. A man was stretched flat on his belly on the ground, groaning in pain. A young woman, pretty except for her bloodied nose, lay across from him, clearly unconscious and snoring softly. Oddly enough, however, it was the third figure in the clearing that had stopped him cold. The man who stood over the two sprawled bodies on the ground was enormous. Cowboy's adopted daddy, Junebug Apshire, who was not a small man himself, would have classified this fella somewhere between a house and one big sunbedge. He was at least six foot four and thick as a tractor tire. He sported a bushy beard and wore a trucker cap, emblazoned with the words, blevin's towing and service. In his hands, he held a pump action shotgun. Cowboy thought that this were a panel out of a comic book. There'd be wavy lines of smoke curling from the barrel. His face instinctively split into a grin as recognition dawned, but no, it couldn't be. Could it? Mr. Mr. Blevins? The man turned casually, though he nevertheless kept the shotgun leveled in Cowboy's direction. That's my name. Don't wear it out. I wouldn't come any closer there, son. We've had enough excitement out here this evening. If you're with these two, I suggest you just have a seat for you end up in a similar situation. Cowboy raised his hands and ventured another step closer. He gazed up at the big man in confusion, realizing his mistake. No, of course it wasn't. His Mr. Blevins would be well over 100 years old. And this man didn't appear to be 35. His thick beard was a deep russet red, not yet bearing even a hint of silver. He was dressed in camo hunting pants and combat boots, and an army surplus jacket stretched over his muscular shoulders. I'm sorry, sir. I mistook you for somebody else. I'm not with them. I'm a friend of Miss Blevins. The big man spat tobacco juice out of the corner of his mouth and narrowed his eyes at Cowboy. Miss Blevins? Is she okay? I know she was going to Osbrin's tonight for Mr. Absher's visitation. She's fine. I, well, you probably won't believe this, but Floyd Absher was my brother. My name's Caleb, but they call me Cowboy Cowboy Absher. For a moment, the man who said his name was Blevins. Scowl to Cowboy. Son, I don't know what kind of fool you take me for, but ain't no way Mr. Absher could have a brother that much younger to... wait. Blevins' expression cleared his understanding dawned in his eyes. You wait just a minute. You're him, ain't you? Huh. Well, I'll be goddamned. I thought you'd still be a kid if you ever come back. What do you mean, I'm him? No, never mind that. Cowboy gestured at the man's hand. You said your name was Blevins? I'm guessing you're Ken to Melvin Blevins. He was a big feller too. The bearded man's face cracked into a grin. Huh. I'm Cody Blevins. Melvin was my great pep-o. Never got to meet him though, died before I was born. When I was little, he took care of me and a bunch of other folks. When I saw you standing there with your shotgun for a minute, I thought I'd seen a ghost. I swear, just looking at you, you're Melvin made over. Yeah, so I've heard. My pep-o and daddy raised me on pep-o Blevins' stories about hates and ghosts and slick talking men from the company who ain't actually men at all. Memo Blevins collected a bunch of them stories over the years and passed them down. When I was little, I thought they was just meant to scare me enough to stay out of the weeds and mind my mommy and daddy. And I know better now. It ain't quite like it was back in them days, but I've seen enough out here to know a lot of those stories were likely true. Cody Blevins looked cowboy up and down, nodding a little as if confirming his previous statement regarding who cowboy was. Even the one about the boy who couldn't grow up or die. It looks like you grew up a little though. Yes, sir, I have. Your great-granddaddy had a part in that. He drove me out to see the lady who helped me with with some of what was wrong. Cody Blevins, whose nearest and dearest just called him Bear. Grand even wider. Huh, wait, my daddy told you you almost brought down half the mountain when something tried to hurt you and pep-o Blevins. Something like that. Cody, would you mind putting that thing somewhere else? Cody glanced down at the shotgun as if he'd almost forgotten it. Well, in a bash grin, he lifted the weapon in his hands, propping the barrel over one shoulder. Oh, sorry about that. What's going on out here? We heard shots and Miss Bell said the wards told her somebody was out this way. I'm assuming you know what those are. Cody Blevins nodded and fished around under his shirt pulling out a charm bag that he had pinned to an old pair of dog tags. He smiled and let the protective trinket fall over his shirt. Huh, yeah, I know a little bit. I live a little ways over by the south end of the creek. Our families looked after the house and the walkers for a long time. Miss Marcy was like family to us. Miss Ellie too, of course, but Miss Marcy was like my third-ma'am all. Place ain't the same without her. And more ways than one. Those wards ain't much more than a doorbell these days. As for what's going on, I spotted these two sneaking onto the property a little while ago and decided to see what they were up to. Been all kinds of strangers out here playing dress up lately. Some of them are harmless, just college kids, you know. Others, we've been watching for a while on account of who their people are. Who their people are? So there are people like my family and yours who know something about what's going on out there in the dark that most folks don't, right? Guy Boy nodded in understanding. Then there's people out there in the dark doing the things they don't want nobody noticing, just like our practice has been passed down through the gears. So there's, we watch them, make sure they don't get up to anything about hurt anybody. That girl over there is from a family that's been dabbling with the dark since, well, since your day, old timer. I found their van down by the road and had a look inside. Rope, duct tape, pillowcases, zip ties, all inside a van with no backwinders. Cause that's not suspicious at all. Right. So I watched. When I've seen enough, I decided to ask some questions. I got to drop on pretty boy over there. The man on the ground groaned again. And his girlfriend snuck up on me with the 22 and got off a couple of shots before it jammed. Turns out she can't hit the broad side of the barn, which is looking for me. Cause that's, that's about my size. He tried to grab my shotgun. She tried to jump on my back. So I threw an elbow back, not her silly. The brave man here tried to run. So I dusted the ground at his feet a little shot, just grazed the back of his legs. It's just bird shot hurts like hell. I imagine, but he'll be all right. I was best our question to the kid, but you showing up here answers more than a few of those. You may answer some for you, but not nearly enough for me. Cody Blevins nodded, smiling grimly as he strode over to the young man laying prone on the ground. He lowered the shotgun from his shoulder, aiming down at the kid as he nudged him with one booted foot. Wakey, wakey kiddo. It's time we had a little chat. The kid groaned, blinking with apparent confusion as he opened his eyes. One look down the barrel of Cody's weapon swept the cobwebs from his mind as efficiently as any dust mob. Injured leg notwithstanding, he started to scrabble away doing a half-ass crab walk backwards on his hands and one foot and Cody tightened his finger on the trigger in response. Uh-uh-uh. You stay right there, son. Jesus fucking Christ, man. You, you shot me. Oh, don't be a baby. I just grazed you. Stings like a son bitch, I bet, but you'll be fine. What are you gonna do? Kill me? You can't just- No, of course not. Cowboys sunk down on his haunches by Cody's side, bringing himself closer to the boy's level, and the kid seemed to register his presence for the first time. At least not as long as you answer our questions anyway. The boy's gaze, wide with panic, bounced back and forth between the two men like a ping-pong ball. He licked his lips. Okay, what do you want to know? Well, let's just start with who the hell you are. What's your name, son? Br-br-Brice? Br-br-Brice Adams. Cody nodded toward the unconscious girl laying nearby. What about her? Crystal. Crystal blankenship. Okay, Br-Brice, you mind telling me what you two chuckle fucks are doing on Miss Bell's land? We-we was just camping. We didn't know it was private land. We thought this was national forest. We-we- That's a lie. Cowboys' head had dropped to one side as he contemplated the boy, absorbing the words, tasting their flavor on the palate of his mind. When Cody glanced down at him, he saw that the young man, the black suit's eyes, had gone a bit unfocused. But his voice was steady and certain. Oh, yeah. He told the truth about their names, but not their purpose here. Cody turned back to Br-Brice. All right, son, you've got to the count of three to cut the bullshit and start telling the truth. One, two, all right, we knew. We knew whose land it was. We were- shit. We were sent here to bring the old lady in and Br-Brice glanced nervously at Cowboy, seeming almost more afraid of him than the shotgun. And-and him, back to Scotty. Who the hell's Scotty? And Crystal's uncle's Goddy Blankenship. He just wants to talk to him, that's all. Nobody means any harm, I swear. Nobody's gonna get hurt. Cody Blevins laid the shotgun across his shoulder and knelt down by Cowboy, peering into the young man's eyes, his expression grim. He reached in the back of his waistband and produced the pistol, which he held up for Br-Brice's inspection. Tell me this, son, if nobody's supposed to get hurt, what was your little girlfriend here doing with this? Br-Brice licked his lips nervously and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. I-I-I didn't know anything about that. She did not tell me. Cody glanced over at Cowboy, who nodded inside. I'm willing to bet there's a whole lot of things she didn't tell you, Br-Brice. Turned away from the kid. Cowboy turned back to Cody and rose to his feet. We've gotta get back to the house and check on Miss Bell. You go on ahead. I'll deal with these two. Bring them up to the house, we can figure out what the hell's going on here. Cowboy nodded and took off down the trail behind him, his feet pounding the brush as he retraced his steps through the woods, all thoughts of his friends and the house he on days of youth spent in the woods behind him. Now there was only the present and the urgent need to get back to Archie and Miss Bell to ensure that they were safe. He had no idea what all this was about just yet. He felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle that was missing half the pieces, but there would be plenty of time to question Br-Brice Adams and his girlfriend later. As he broke the edge of the tree line and jogged into Bell's backyard, Cowboy heard the distant sound of tires crunching gravel. It sounded like a car at the end of the walkers long driveway. He picked up his pace, racing through the back door and into the kitchen and from the parlor he heard the sound of a low groan. Miss Bell, Archie, Cowboy's dress shoes skidded on the polished floors as he sprinted into the front room and he had to catch himself on the door frame. The front door hung open. The night breezed her and the curtains had hung from the windows to either side. Through it he could see the distant red glow of tail lights disappearing down the road. Archie's salad lay crumbled on the hardwood nearby. The silver hair at his temple stained crimson with blood. The room was otherwise empty. Cowboy rushed to his friend's side. Archie, Archie! He pressed his hand to the side of Archie's neck and felt the pulse there pounding strong. Archie groaned, his eyes fluttering. They took her kid. They took Miss Bell. There is a curse upon my every waking breath. And I cannot escape the darkness. Well, hey there, family. Looks like we've gone and done it again. Left y'all hanging by your fingernails on the edge of that cliff. Can't stop won't stop. Y'all are just gonna have to come back and see what happens when old Cowboy seeks to settle the score with Scotty Blankenship and Motherfolks up on Peter's branch. We want to thank y'all for all the kind words we've been seeing all over the place regarding season five. We appreciate that so many of you have completed your social media ritual following us on all the appropriate platforms as listed over at Old Gods of Appalachia.com, where you can also find a link to the Discord server and our brand new subscription service, The Holler. There are hours and hours of exclusive content and other goodies for those of you who cast your lot with us over in The Holler. Head on over to OldGodsOfAppalachia.com slash The Holler for more details. And this is your Yes, Melvin 2. We thought about it, but he was older than Marcy Reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media distributed by Rusty Quill. Our theme song is by Brother Landon Blood and our outro music is by those poor bastards. Today's story was written by Steve Shell and Cam Collins and the voice of Cowboy Abshure is Brandon Bentley. Talk to you soon, family. Talk to you real soon. Oh, I cannot escape your name. It's time, my girl, to go and find another. I love my old, now just where is the moment? DRIVING DRIVING Redeem your lab bucks on FreeBetspins or even Cashion for real money. That's LADDISFACTION from Lab Brooks. And for extra laddisfaction here's the Tees and Sees. Let's rock! Yeah, but we're that hot. LAUGHTER I can't believe it. Max has asked me to move in with him. I mean, you practically live with each other already, but that's great! Did you hear that, Joe? Yes, thanks for letting us know. I see you've updated your universal credit claim. Now you're going to be living together. If you're telling other people about a change in your circumstances, tell us too to avoid a penalty. Search, tell DWP. 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