by Joseph Fink
Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Ladies and gentlemen, the rumor mill is abuzz. We’ve had a celebrity sighting in our little burg! Old Woman Josie and one of her angel friends reportedly saw Rita Hayworth getting gas at the Fuel and Go over by the bowling alley! Rita Hayworth, ladies and gentlemen, right here in Night Vale! Can you believe it? Old Woman Josie said Rita was looking a bit older, moderately obese, and considerably more Hispanic, but the angel assured her it was indeed Rita. He is an angel after all. He would know, right? Wow. Rita Hayworth. Here in Night Vale. Just imagine.
Update on the Shape Formerly in Grove Park that No One Acknowledges or Speaks About. It seems the City Council, in their superhuman mercy and all-seeing glory, have chosen to move the shape directly in front of our own radio station, where it is continuing to be what can only be described as indescribable. The shape was not available for comment, as I could find no one willing to speak to it, or even meet my eye when I mentioned it. It has occurred to me that I may be the only one able to see it. Now that I think of it, I have also never bothered to actually check whether this mic is attached to any sort of recording or broadcasting device, and it is possible that I am alone in an empty universe, speaking to no one, unaware that the world is held aloft merely by my delusions and my smooth, sonorous voice. More on this story as it develops, I say, possibly only to myself.
The Night Vale Community Theatre is holding auditions for its fall show, Once on this Island. Interested thespians should bring a headshot and résumé to the Recreation Center Auditorium on Thursday night. All auditionees must perform a one-minute monologue and sing one song. Bring sheet music if you would like piano accompaniment.
Auditionees will also be required to do a cold reading and give blood and stool samples along with mandatory radiation testing following the auditions. Do not sing anything from South Pacific. People of color are urged to audition, as Night Vale Community Theatre is an equal opportunity employer. Also, actors with long-range sniper training, Fortran computer programming, and top-notch wilderness survival skills are a plus. Final casting will be announced in secret, via dirigible. No one can ever know.
Update on the green market situation from earlier in our broadcast: Everything is exactly the same as when we last reported on it, and there is no new information.
Listeners, do you ever think about the moon? I was sitting outside last night, looking at the moon, and I thought: Does anyone actually know what that thing is? Have there been any studies on this? I went to ask Carlos, but he hasn’t been seen much since that treacherous Telly’s vile haircut. The moon’s weird though, right? It’s there and there, and then suddenly it’s not. And it seems to be pretty far up. Is it watching us? If not, what is it watching instead? Is there something more interesting than us? Hey! Watch us moon! We may not always be the best show in the universe, but we try!
This has been today’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
Speaking of which, the Night Vale School District has announced some changes to the elementary school curriculum. They are as follows:
• In response to parent feedback, history class will focus more heavily on textbook readings and traditional exams, rather than live ammo drills.
• Geology is adding a new type of rock on the grounds that it’s been a while since anyone has done that. The new type of rock is Vimby, and it is characterized by its pale blue color and the fact that it is completely edible. Points will be awarded to the first student to discover a real-world example of it.
• Math and English are switching names. Their curriculum will stay exactly the same.
• Astronomy will now be conducting stargazing sessions only with blindfolds on every participant, in order to protect them from the existential terror of the void. Also, Pluto has been declared imaginary.
• All classrooms will be equipped with at least one teacher physically present for the entire instruction period. Astral projection will no longer be used in any classroom situation.
• Finally, in addition to the current foreign-language offerings of Spanish, French, and Modified Sumerian, schools will now be offering Double Spanish, Weird Spanish, Coptic Spanish, Russian, and Unmodified Sumerian.
And now, a continuation of our previous investigation into whether I am literally the only person in the world, speaking to myself in a fit of madness caused by my inability to admit the tragedy of my own existence. Leland, our newest intern, recently brought me a cup of coffee. He is no longer in my field of vision, but I do still have the cup of coffee, which is well made and is giving me the needed pick-me-up to continue considering this terrifying possibility. Is it possible that I only imagined Leland, and forgot making myself this cup of coffee? But then, who would have grown this coffee? Where was this cup procured from? Oh, Leland’s back in the room. He’s waving at me. Hello Leland. He’s saying . . . what was that, Leland?
I see, he’s saying that the shape has turned a molten red and is causing small whirlwinds in front of our radio station doors. There is apparently a sound of a great many voices chanting, as though it were an army giving out a battle cry before raining down destruction on our arid little hamlet. He has stopped shouting and is now writing furiously on a piece of paper. I have to say, Leland’s existence, as well as his finally speaking about the shape that no one else would speak about, has reassured me greatly about my lonely and solipsistic vigil here at this microphone. He is handing me a note. Thank you, Leland. Let me see here.
Ah, it says that the City Council believes the reason for the violent reaction of the Shape Formerly in Grove Park that No One Acknowledges or Speaks About is because I have been acknowledging and speaking about it, which has made it angry. They urge me to stop speaking of it, and never do it again, and in exchange they’ll move it somewhere else so we can get our front loading zone back. After brief consideration, I have decided to accept the council’s offer, because they are trustworthy leaders looking out for our better future, and also because Leland just got vaporized by a strange red light emanating from the station entrance. To the family of Leland, we thank you for his service to the cause of community radio, and join you in mourning his loss.
And, without further ado, nor ever again mentioning anything we shouldn’t, let’s go to the weather.
WEATHER: “Jerusalem” by Dan Bern
Hello listeners. In breaking news, the sky. The earth. Life. Existence as an unchanging plain with horizons of birth and death in the faint distance. We have nothing to speak about. There never was. Words are an unnecessary trouble. Expression is time wasting away. Any communication is just a yelp in the darkness. Ladies. Gentlemen. Listeners. You. I am speaking now but I am saying nothing. I am just making noises, and, as it happens, they are organized in words, but you should not draw meaning from this.
The service for Leland will be lovely. We will throw flowers and weep. He will be buried in the break room, as is the custom. His family will come and moon about the office, as though we have answers. We do not have answers. I am not certain that we even have questions. I have chosen to not be certain of anything at all.
This is Cecil, generally, speaking to you, metaphorically, for Night Vale Community Radio, and I would like to say, in the most nebulous terms possible, and with no real-world implications or insinuations of objective meaning, goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.
PROVERB: A million dollars isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? A basilisk.
EPISODE 6:
“THE DRAWBRIDGE”
SEPTEMBER 1, 2012
MY FIRST NEW CAR PURCHASE WAS A 1997 NISSAN ALTIMA, GREENISH-BLUE. It was a good car. I got about 150,000 miles out of it before the transmission fell completely apart. Fortunately, I had just moved to Queens, so it was easy to give up.
It was in bad shape: scratches on the paint, seats that reeked of smoke, only one working speaker, heat-torn dashboard, bald tires (which were not fun in Massachusetts winters), and ultimately zero hubcaps.
As an
aside, not to kick Nissan or Toyota in the butt, but I cannot tell you how many Altimas and Corollas (Toyota’s rival sedan) I saw with missing hubcaps. It is not a handsome look. I can only hope both manufacturers have addressed this issue.
Listen, we can blame the carmakers all we want, but replacement hubcaps aren’t really that expensive. It’s just that I was lazy when it came to car maintenance. I got it at age twenty-one and spent my twenties assuming that things just take care of themselves, because that’s what happens when you grow up with a mom. Why wouldn’t it just continue that way? Adulthood is just a number.
I look back on those times and deride my younger self and his smoking and sedentary physical lifestyle and lack of basic body/house/car care.
This episode is Steve Carlsberg’s first appearance—or at least, Cecil’s first mention of him. And Cecil hates him. I knew that as we wrote more and more episodes, we would learn that Steve was not as bad as Cecil thought he was. So I used the missing hubcaps thing to 1) suggest that Steve is either a slob or is generally inattentive to cleanliness or appearances, and 2) that Cecil is blowing up something relatively minor into a rage that might be difficult to come down from.
Remind me to tell you about the time I spent an entire year without a front bumper on my car, and then tell me you don’t relate to Cecil’s frustration with Steve.
—Jeffrey Cranor
Rabbits are not what they seem to be.
WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE.
We’ve had some power outages reported throughout Night Vale in the last couple hours. If you’re experiencing one . . . well then you can’t hear me, can you? The Night Vale Municipal Utility Department said that they are still working to determine the cause of the outages, which are roving back and forth across town in a continuous motion, like a great pacing beast. Those whose neighborhoods have been hit by the outages reported the shriek of hawks overhead, and that when the lights came back on, they felt that perhaps they were different people, their memories and identities the same as always, but suddenly felt like costumes that didn’t fit exactly, as though it all were actually brand new to them, as though they had been switched out with someone who was exactly like them, as though all that was familiar would ever after be strange.
Keep some flashlights with spare batteries and a childhood photo album by you tonight, just in case.
The revitalization of the Old Town Drawbridge experienced another setback this week as engineers determined that the furniture upholstery used to construct the bridge towers soaks up water and creates an unstable foundation. This week’s collapse was the third in as many months. Construction crews have tried building the bridge tower base supports from corrugated cardboard, nondairy creamer, and ceramic bowls. Nothing has worked. Engineers are asking for help in determining how proper bridge towers are made. If you have any tips, please write them on notebook paper and mail them to Bridge Magic, LLC, PO Box 616. Do not use cursive or long words. Clearly labeled drawings are preferred.
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time of year again. Time for our annual pledge drive. Sorry to have to do this, but, you know, Night Vale has a lot of community-supported radio, and the thing about community-supported radio—it’s supported by listeners like you, as well as Guatemala and some teamsters who are sometimes too generous. Any amount you can give will help us continue our community programming. A dollar or two, or even plasma.
Take WZZZ, our local numbers station, broadcasting from that strange and tall antenna built out back of the abandoned gas station on Oxford Street. Did you know that it broadcasts a monotone female voice, reading out seemingly random numbers, interspersed with chimes twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week? As you can imagine, that kind of work doesn’t bring in a lot of money, unless it does. To be honest, here at Night Vale Radio we don’t know exactly what that station is for, or what master it is serving. But I do know that it is a vital part of this community and we should pitch in to help it. We welcome your support. Give us a call. We don’t have a number. Just whisper “Forsaken Algonquinia” into your phone receiver, and angels (or Facebook or something) will deliver us an appropriate contribution from your bank account.
More on the drawbridge debacle: it was turmoil in city headquarters this morning. Following this latest in a long line of municipal failures, the City Council has come under fire from concerned citizens for wasting taxpayer money on inefficient services that go over budget and over schedule. One critic, who wished to remain anonymous, said, “We don’t even have a river or bay in Night Vale. There would never be a boat to necessitate a drawbridge.” He continued to . . .
You know what? Forget it. I can tell you right now that that was Steve Carlsberg who said that. And he is such a spoilsport, that Steve. Have you noticed how he never replaces his hubcaps? It’s laziness. Pure and simple. Laziness. I just can’t let him ruin our town by denying Night Vale a drawbridge when he can’t even care for a tan Corolla.
The Night Vale Daily Journal has announced that, due to spiraling printing costs, they will be replacing the print edition of the paper with a special new Imagination Edition. Editor Leann Hart explains: “Instead of confining our customers to the outdated modes of ink on paper, we are allowing them to choose the news that interests them by imagining whatever news they want. This will not only save costs, but allow customers to experience the news as a full-color, full-motion experience, taking place in a mental world that is tailored to their needs.” Subscription to this edition will be compulsory and automatic, and will cost a mere $60 a month.
This Friday at Night Vale High’s Memorial Stadium, it’s the annual softball showdown between the Night Vale Fire Department and the Sheriff’s Secret Police. Proceeds from the game will go to support development of nuclear weaponry for a strongly religious Indonesian militia that is looking to overthrow their heretical government, as well as to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. So even if you don’t like softball, come on out and support a couple of great causes.
Last year’s game ended in a rout, as the Secret Police hit three home runs in the eighth and ninth innings. The fire fighters claimed that there was some foul play involved (pun intended, dear listeners!), as their entire bullpen was assassinated in the middle innings with blow darts. Those murders remain unsolved and completely uninvestigated. Our hearts go out to the families of the deceased relief pitchers. Rest in peace.
Should be a fun one! Expect a real revenge-minded fire department to take the field on Friday! Tickets are only $10, or $5 if you bring enriched yellowcake uranium. Black helicopters will be mind-scanning the town on game day, hunting down those who do not attend. The first five hundred fans receive surgically applied working gills.
Notice: There is no digital, staticky hum coming from the Dog Park, Mayor Pamela Winchell announced today. The mayor stressed repeatedly in her ninety-second, impromptu press conference that there is no unbearable, soul-tearing sound that rips at the sinews of your very being coming from the Dog Park.
Mayor Winchell continued with a plea for all Night Vale residents to understand that there could not possibly be a deeply coded message emanating from a small, fenced-in patch of municipal grass and dirt. Citizens are not even supposed to be consciously aware of the Dog Park, so they could not possibly be receiving a menacing and unearthly voice instructing listeners to bring precious metals and toddlers to the Dog Park. Dog Park, she repeated. That could never, ever be real, the mayor shouted, pounding the podium with her bleeding fists. There were no follow-up questions.
And now a word from our sponsors: [long, soft moan]
And now, traffic.
There’s a stalled car on the northbound on-ramp to the Eastern Expressway just south of Route 800. Commuters should have little delays as highway patrol is fiercely denying this report. In fact, police representatives have just issued a statement claiming that there are no cars anywhere and “what are you doing talking about them, talking silly lies, you silly people. There are no cars. What is this fiction? Oh, please. Do y
ou seriously believe for a second. Wait. Wait! You thought that cars were real?” the highway patrol continued. “Oh, that is rich!”
All other roads seem clear. Expect delays, of course, at the drawbridge construction site, because it is years away from being competently finished.
Here are this week’s horoscopes.
Virgo: Go see a movie today. It’s a great escape, especially from all of this pollution and dangerous UV radiation. Say, is that mole new?
Libra: Your dreams will be filled with prophetic visions. Write them down. Hopefully there are some lottery numbers or sports scores in there.
Scorpio: Curse you. Curse your family. Curse your children. And your children’s children. Vile, vile Scorpio.
Sagittarius: Eat well today. You’ve earned it. And by it, I mean massive food allergies. And by earned, I mean acquired. I should proof this stuff before I read it aloud. Let’s try that again. You’ve acquired massive food allergies. Yes, much cleaner. Eat well.
Capricorn: Those were not contact lenses you put in this morning. Best not think about this again.
Aquarius: The white ball will be under the middle shell. Trust the stars. Invest all your money in this lucrative street game.
Pisces: You’ve won a brand-new car!
Aries: You will feel a haunting sadness about times gone by. Today’s smell is wheatgrass and toast.
Taurus: Today is your annual Crime Day. All Tauruses are exempt from laws today.
Gemini: You will meet someone today who will have no effect on your life and who you will immediately forget. Retain hope for a possible future.
Cancer: I’ve gotta pay my phone bill and also get more milk. That wasn’t me talking, that is what the stars say today. Interpret it as you will.
