Weird Shit Blog

Because not everything has to make sense

Hello again! It’s been a while, but I knew you’d come back eventually. I’ve been here, tending to my campfire. You don’t remember where you are, do you? You probably woke up and just found yourself here, right?

Well, that’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you until the sun comes up, and then you’ll get right back where you came from. Let me pass the time for you with another story.


There was once a man named Maurice Morris. Maybe it was his real name, maybe it wasn’t. He was a confidence man from Jackson, Mississippi. His favorite way to trick people was to convince them that he had an inside man at a nearby bank. He told them that he just needed money to pay the inside man, then he’d rob the bank and pay the target back. Of course, the robbery never happened. Maurice Morris took the money and ran every time. He would come up with a new name, maybe a new haircut, but the scam was always the same.

One time, Maurice pulled this con on a woman named Eliza. But one thing he didn’t count on was that Eliza was in love with him. She told her husband about the scam and said she was running away with Maurice.

Maurice thought he got away, but as he was leaving town in the dark of night on an old dirt road through the woods, a shape appeared in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes and nearly lost control of the vehicle. It was Eliza, wearing a red dress and pointing a gun at him. She forced him out of the car, took him to a nearby farm yard, and shot him twice in front of the pigs.

The farmer found the body the next day along with a white glove. He turned the glove over to police who found a tag inside it with Eliza’s name. They found Maurice’s car abandoned on the old dirt road. The only unusual thing they found in there was a beat-up suitcase full of cash.

That same morning, they broke down Eliza’s door and found her husband on the couch, dead from a self-inflicted shot to the head. Eliza was laying dead in their marriage bed. Her throat had been cut by a razor with her husband’s fingerprints on it. Her blood had turned her white dress red. She wore one white glove, a match to the one they found in the farm yard.

The medical examiner said that they had both been dead for days. They determined that the gun Eliza’s husband killed himself with was the same gun that killed Maurice, but never located the gun itself.


There ya go, the sun’s back again. You best be getting back to where you came from. I wouldn’t recommend staying here.

I hope I get to see you again sometime soon, friend!