Originally published at: Man finds creepy doll behind wall in his new house with note about the murder of the former residents | Boing Boing
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The big take-away here is the time to plant a creepy doll with a murder note is NOW and not down the line when you are doing renovations.
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Admit it @pesco - you really wish this was in your house (and/or safe), don’t you?
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After we bought our new house we found out there’s a “Doll Hospital” about a block away. I’m still not sure if it’s an establishment that restores physically damaged dolls or some kind of mental hospital for dolls that pose a threat to themselves and others.
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If anyone ever really searches my childhood home, that my parents sold 25 - 30 years ago, they would find whiskey, weed, and some dirty magazines in the floor boards.
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when the doll you found isn’t really even creepy, then you’re pretty sure it’s a nothingburger. the note was creepy, but the doll? it’s just a doll, and not even a frightening looking one.
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Yeah, exactly - that doll’s not even remotely creepy enough to be a murder-doll, so he’s completely safe.
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Guy I used to work with looked up in the dropped ceiling of the house he grew up in, and found 20-year-old weed in there, likely stashed by his father when that was his father’s bedroom.
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Likely, Lewis was the target of a longterm prank played by the previous homeowners.
Or maybe Lewis is the perpetrator of a prank to get youtube clicks.
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The doll and note looked suspiciously clean to me.
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I would have bet the farm that POPKIN posted this.
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Reminds me a bit of this TV show from a long time back.
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You know, this sort of thing has risen to the point that not finding a skeleton will be a big disappointment when remodeling.
Which, come to think of it, will make hiding real skeletons easier since the future remodelers will simply assume it was a prank…
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Elaborate prank or elaborate marketing scheme for the next Blumhouse horror fiasco. 
What you need to do is hide a dozen or so fake skeletons, and one real one.
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Whoever demolishes my boyhood home will be pleased to find about ten “Erinmore Flake Pipe Tobacco” tins, each with a “message to the future” and perhaps “examples of our currency” (up to and often including a ten cent piece). They are distributed among the extensive concrete works my Dad and I embarked upon in my preteen years; all mixed by my hand in a trough, carried by me in steel buckets with uncomfortable wire handles, to sites excavated by me … Sidewalks, footings, pillars, posts, and completing the house’s half basement foundation to a full basement. After all this, then my Dad buys a power mixer 
. I later realized that I was the project , “give the boy a little exercise…”
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