The Uncanny Coffee Hour with Dr Kitsune and Odd Bob

A bonfire can warm you up, light your face, and make you feel brave. It can also listen. We’re leaning into Beltane folklore with coffee in hand, starting with the real-world roots of the Celtic fire festival and sliding, on purpose, into the unsettling parts: cattle between twin fires, protection rites, burnt bannock, and the way old communities tried to keep the fair folk from getting too close. From there, we step into the fae courts and talk about Nicknevin as more than a cartoon villain...

Zombies are everywhere, and we don’t just mean shambling corpses on TV. We mean the person crossing the street while hypnotized by a phone screen, the couple doomscrolling at dinner, and the eerie feeling of driving home on autopilot then realizing you can’t remember the last ten minutes. We start there because the zombie is more than a monster. It’s a fear that we can lose control of our minds while our bodies keep going. Then we go hunting for the “real” zombie stories that hide insi...

A two-year-old sits up in bed at midnight and cries “Help me” in a voice that doesn’t belong to her. That’s where our night begins... inside a Nevada family’s haunting, where a restless house and a neglected ritual collide, and a grandfather’s quiet arrival resets the room. We follow the thread from a shaken father’s dash across town to a grandmother’s Buddhist protection and a corner shrine that once fed three tiny guardians a single grain of rice a day. When the offerings stopped, something...

The wind has a way of finding the cracks in our certainty, and on this solstice we let it in. We light the room with laughter, pour thick drinks, and tell three stories that bite: a child hears promises the fog won’t confess, iron boots ring down ruined halls, and something skinless drags itself up from the sea, hot breath reeking of graves. It’s a Fae-forward gathering with Sortia, Barnaby the gnome, and Gracie holding the circle while our human co‑hosts wander off the map—until they stumble...

What if the thing you left behind never stopped moving toward you? We pour pumpkin ales, crack a few ridiculous sponsor bits, and then step straight into two of the most unsettling Japanese ghost tales we know—told with care, humor, and zero caricature. First, a samurai trades devotion for status and returns years later to a house swallowed by weeds and wind. The scene glows with a single candle, a familiar silhouette, and hair so black it seems to drink the light. Morning peels away the com...