01/04/2018 23:22:44 ¶ ●

## 125 - A Door Ajar Part 2

When one door closes, another opens. That’s why there are so many raccoons living in your house.
Welcome to Night Vale.

The phantom ocean has struck again. Last night around 2 AM, a horrible splintering sound was heard across town. Many residents awakened exclaiming: “What was that horrible splintering sound?” Many others who heard it shrieked: “I heard nothing! Nothing at all!”

Flickering lights splashed against the desert sky. The lights moved into the neighborhoods forming dark shapes across walls and streets. Shapes which moaned and shuffled as if wounded. A confused seagull cried out for sandwich crusts in the dark.

Big Rico, owner of Big Rico’s Pizza, neither heard the splintering sound nor saw the lights. He was awakened instead by a soft knocking at the door of his home. Believing the knocking to be part of his recurring dream where he is driving a pizza delivery car eternally down a dark suburban street, looking for an address that doesn’t exist. He tried to get back to sleep, not wanting to end such a pleasant fantasy. The knocking grew more insistent. Rico groaned his way to the living room half asleep, and was confronted by a bedraggled group of entities in rain slickers, who appeared to be in trouble. Though they did not speak a language known to Big Rico, the leader of the group who we now know as the Captain, managed to explain the situation by drawing an entire graphic novel on old pizza boxes. The images told the story of a doomed sailing vessel that met with misfortune when the ocean disappeared from underneath it. And it was dashed to pieces against solid earth. The confused sailors had gathered themselves from the desert floor, gotten together torches and supplies, and journeyed approximately eight blocks to civilization.

The Secret Police confirmed the story after finding the wreckage of a wooden sailing ship in the Scrublands earlier this morning. Illegally parked nearby was a silver 2011 Mini Cooper with an open sunroof filled to the brim of salt water and blobs of translucent jelly. If this is your vehicle, please pick it up immediately. Looking at you, Susan Willman.

After being physically coerced by the Secret Police, several caring families in Night Vale have volunteered their homes to these sailors. The Captain, Doctor Shouty, Old Wood Teeth, Rebecca, and the Really Tall One. We will be checking in with some of these families periodically for updates on how things are going.

Brandy Lance, behavioral science expert of the Girl Scouts’ Splinter faction, the Onyx Fist, believes there was a mutiny in progress before the shipwreck even occurred. A theory that was substantiated by today’s exceedingly awkward welcome breakfast at the Pancake House. Rebecca and Old Wood Teeth spoke only in grumbling undertones, periodically telling Doctor Shouty to shush, while the Captain sat far across the restaurant and pensively stirred his clam chowder. Bitter looks were exchanged between all parties.

But eating together in suffocating silence doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong. For example, since Carlos didn’t want to go to the welcome breakfast, we had a quiet meal at home. Like really, really quiet. I told him his scientist friends Nilanjana and Mark had called, again, to ask about organizing a case study on the shipwreck survivors. He got the strangest look on his face and said he was really busy with another project right now. I asked him what he was working on and he said oh you know, and then made the universal hand gesture for science. Then he kissed me on the cheek, washed his plate, and disappeared into his home lab. Later I heard the muffled screams of a sitcom laugh track from behind the closed door.

Meanwhile, in light of recent happiness, the Night Vale Tourism Board along with the Business Association, has announced plans for a massive expansion of the Harbor Waterfront project. This has been met with protest from the Marine Biology Association, who are intensely opposed to encouraging the existence of an ocean in a desert. In response, Madeline LeFleur of the Tourism Board issued the following statement at an emergency town hall meeting. “We believe expanding the Waterfront project will bring forth new opportunity and added value to this great city. Just because we don’t know how, when, or where the ocean appears, and have literally zero control over its behavior, doesn’t mean we can’t get at least profit from sightseers.” The agitated marine biologists responded: “That’s stupid! You’re stupid!” To which Annette Mahaka, head of the Business Association, responded in a whining tone: “Why can’t you just let us be happy?” LeFleur added in a much deeper, more authoritative tone: “Plunging ahead without considering the consequences is one of the maverick values this great land was founded on.” This last statement was met with thunderous applause. Based entirely on her tone of voice, rather than the actual words spoken.

Despite the conflict around this issue, there is something I admire about each party’s ability to clearly state their positions. There’s no confusion about either side’s feelings. They can express their concerns and move on from there. Or maybe they’ll end up deadlocked in stalemate, repeating the same phrases continuously until they cease to convey actual meaning. But at least they know where they stand. Comprehension without flexibility is so important when resolving conflict.

Let’s have a look at other local news. The first annual Fishermen’s Stew Contest, sponsored by the Night Vale Culinary Society, has named a winner: John Peters - you know, the farmer - won with his five ingredient corn chowder recipe made with invisible corn, hot water, cold water, kosher salt, and Swedish fish. Also, Night Vale Community College has its first ever Nobel Prize winner. Tara Aria won the coveted award for her work in mathematical poetry, with the following haiku couplet:

You keep the drawer locked
Where all five sharp knives are stashed.
But now it’s open.
You live alone right,
And didn’t use any knives?
But now there’s just four.

Tara has a fine future in the mathematical poetry trades.

Ah, speaking of the community college, I think that I am overdue to give another guest lecture there. It’s been – wow, um, over five years? I know because it was back when Carlos first got to town. I was walking down the hall on my way to the communications department, and I saw him standing there talking to a group of people in hushed scientific tones. Our eyes met for a second as I walked by, and he gave me a cordial nod. His perfect hair shimmering, almost indigo under the fluorescent lighting.

Later, after my lecture, I went back to that hallway, and it was empty. But then I hears his voice. He was talking to someone in an office a few doors down. I wanted to hide, I was so giddy and nervous, but then he was in the all again. And before I could speak he said, “Hey, you like science?” My mouth didn’t work so I nodded and he said, “You wanna see something scientifically interesting?” We went up the back staircase to the Earth Sciences building roof, and he pointed toward a field at the edge of town. There was a hazy column of darkness stretching from the middle of the field into the sky. “What is that?” I asked. Carlos told me he wasn’t sure, but it could only be seen from this exact angle and distance. We took two steps to the side and it was gone. We took two steps back to the left, our feet in perfect unison, a stilted little barn dance, and we could see the dark column again. “That is scientifically interesting,” I said, not sure if I was overselling my level of scientific interest. I told him, “You can also see my apartment building from here. It’s always there. It doesn’t disappear.” And he asked, “Which one is it?” And I showed him and he said, “That has a nice roof, good shingles.” It was the first compliment he ever gave me. And then he had to go to a meeting and I went home. It was a while before we spoke again, but I used to think of that moment often.

You know, I’m gonna think of it again now. And while I do,
You should think about the weather.

[“Source Decay” by Holy Sons, https://www.holysons.com]

Let’s check in with our host families to see how some of our nautical residents are adjusting. Doctor Shouty and Rebecca have gone to live in a barista commune, learning secrets of coffee making. Such as, the only difference between a latte and a flat white is 50 cents. And memorizing the incorrect spelling of every single human name. Old Wood Teeth lives with the Wallaby family, Hershel, Tuck and their daughter Megan, who is an adult hand sewn onto a tall Russian submariner. Megan showed Old Wood Teeth photos of submarines, and he didn’t believe that they were real, so she rented Crimson Tide, and while it didn’t change Old Wood Teeth’s beliefs, he’s now boy-crazy over Denzel Washington and doesn’t understand how Denzel didn’t win an Oscar for Malcolm X.

I have a report here from my brother-in-law, Steve Carlsberg. The Palmer-Carlsberg family is hosting the Really Tall One. Now the Really Tall One is proving to be a calming presence in the household, and has even taught the family nautical dancing, sailing dirges in her native tongue, and how to read ancient star charts that were used to accurately navigate the globe long before maps and GPS. Janice, my teenage niece, has shown the Really Tall One which remote controls are for the Blu-ray player, and which are for the surround sound. My sister Abby has noted a strong odor that seems like a combination of ozone, copper, and shrimp permeating the house whenever the Really Tall One is asleep. The odor gets stronger the deeper into unconsciousness the Really Tall One is. Other host families have also reported this phenomenon, but have been quick to add that it’s totally not a complaint, you know just a, just an observation.

Unfortunately we’ve learned that the Captain, who was being hosted by witness protection resident Sigrid Borg due to the extra levels of security in her apartment, has been reported missing. Sigrid released a statement saying: “Please stop telling people I’m in the witness protection program!” We’ll keep our eyes out for him, Sigrid.

I’m getting word now that the conflict between the Tourism Board and the marine biologists has escalated. The biologists have discovered what appears to be a makeshift aquarium being hidden in a 12-by-12 public storage unit in Radon Canyon. The secret aquarium consists of several tanks containing blobs of semi-animate clear jelly, likely taking from the lungs of the (trilors) [0:19:03], the rucksack of Girl Scouts’ Splinter faction leader, Randy Lance, the potholes in Old Town, and/or Susan Willman’s Mini Cooper. The biologists also discovered plans for a more complete aquarium, once the funding for the expanded Waterfront project comes through. To which the biologists cried out: “Over our dead bodies!”, alerting nearby Tourism Board sentries of their presence.

A verbal altercation took place, with both sides speaking over one another at louder and louder volumes, eventually erupting into awkward grabby physical violence. It ended when their roughhousing tumbled most of the scufflers into the canyon. The remaining biologists have chosen a more non-violent approach, instead marcing through town waving signs warning of impending doom and chanting rhymes. Madeline LeFleur of the Tourism Board responded on public access television that most Night Vale residents support Waterfront development. Several have even submitted their own ideas for store fronts, LaFleur claimed. Like one of those places where you write your name on a Frisbee and huff paint. Or a savory taffy stand. Or a mysterious warehouse, which appears abandoned but sometimes you hear clanging sounds inside.

Oh, hang on listeners, someone is knocking on my studio door. That’s weird, I’m not expecting anybody. Oh, maybe it’s Carlos! Oh I’m sorry everybody, just let me… Oh, um… OK, the Captain has entered the studio. He’s wild-eyed and he’s making the-the shushing motion with his finger. Oh, and now he’s hiding underneath my desk. Oh, and now my phone is ringing. OK, this is a lot happening at once, I had better deal with this.
Uh, listen to this pre-recorded PSA while I figure things out.

Deb: Hello Night Vale! This is Deb, a sentient patch of haze, speaking for the Department of Motor Vehicles. When it comes times to renew or apply for your driver’s license, please remember to check the eyeball donation box on the back of the form. Contrary to those nasty rumors, it does not authorize a representative of the DMV to break into your house at night and remove your eyeballs while you sleep. Huh, usually. Those days are, for the most part long behind us. It does mean you have the chance to be a hero in one of the many eye-claiming accidents that disproportionately affect residents of our fair city each year. Say you get into a car accident and die. Say someone else who was in that accident is alive, but no longer has any eyes. Your eyeballs will be removed from your face and placed into that person’s face. Then, that person not only regains the power of sight, but you do as well. Your consciousness, which lives inside your eyeball’s posterior chamber, will remain intact, seeing everything your host body sees, experiencing whatever they experience, throughout the rest of their life. And of course, if that person gets into a fatal accident later, both of your consciousnesses will remain, as your eyeballs are transferred to a third party. In this way, it is technically possible to gain immortality.

So please, remember to check that box on the back of the form. Thanks, friends!

Cecil: I’m sorry about that, I was, I was greeting the Captain and then my phone rang and it was Carlos and he wanted to meet me on the roof of the Earth Sciences building and watch the sunset together over the column of hazy darkness! A purely romantic gesture. It’s somewhat out of character for Carlos, but I didn’t feel like questioning it. I’m just grateful he finally seemed willing to open up. You know, I didn’t realize how much it’s been getting to me until talking to him just now. Whew! I mean I know I haven’t resolved or even fully understood what’s been bothering me, but I feel relieved anyway. Tentatively revealed. No no, I feel revealed. I mean, why frame positive things with the fear of losing them? So closing tonight’s broadcast a little early. I’m sure you’ll understand. Station Management won’t, which is why I’ve set up a Cecil-shaped mannequin I made out of burlap, twine, and dried lentils to place in my chair for the final few segments of the show.

You know, maybe I can get the Captain to help me secure the… Oh, oh my God I forgot about the Captain! He must have snuck out of here while I was on the phone. Oh yeah, yeah I can see him through the window. He’s climbed up to the top of our radio tower and is looking thru a spyglass, gesturing frantically at the horizon. And he’s crying out: “We are doomed, we are all doomed”. Oh man, he’s gonna blow my cover.

OK, if I’m gonna sneak out of work, I need to do it now. [chuckles] He’s an eccentric fellow, that captain. Sigrid Borg, I know you’re trying to keep a low profile, what with your participation in the witness protection program. But please come to the station and collect your house guest. Susan Willman, your Mini Cooper has been towed.

Alright! Stay tuned next for a Cecil-shaped mannequin made up of burlap, twine, and dried lentils reading you the latest on traffic and the community calendar.

[very fast] Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night!
Today’s proverb: I believe in tough love. Also, tough tenderness, tough vulnerability, and a daily session of tough mindfulness meditation.

15/04/2018 22:48:47 ¶ ●

## 126 - A Door Ajar part 3

Always keep your eyes closed during a storm. Otherwise your soul will get all wet and mildewy.

Welcome to Night Vale.

I hate sounding like a news media alarmist, but a phantom ocean has completely destroyed Old Town. I mean, destroyed. Wave after wave of cold brine has entirely swept away the Old Town drawbridge. Which is a shame, because the city made considerable strides towards its completion in recent years. Also missing: a number of cars, pets, human beings, and the teetering stack of bath tubs that granted wishes. A more complete list of the missing items has been posted at the newly reopened Pancake House. Come on down to the Pancake House, check if any of your loved ones have been affected by this horrible disaster, and enjoy free hotcakes. One free hotcake per missing loved one.

The surviving residents of Old Town have been placed with compulsory volunteer host families throughout the rest of town. Many of the survivors of the recent shipwreck have finally been placed in their own permanent housing, and are now hosting flood victims. Having experienced recent displacement themselves, The Really Tall One, Dr. Shouty, Old Wood Teeth, Rebecca, and the Captain are proving to be elegant hosts, and have been reported to supply slipper socks, steamed hand towels and all natural calamari flavored toothpaste to their guests. This generosity has put many Night Vale residents, who initially complained about hosting the shipwreck survivors, to shame. You know who you are, and so do we. There’s a list of those who should be ashamed of themselves posted at the newly reopened Pancake House.

Sometimes I get really tired of negative reporting. As the most prominent voice in local current events, I feel like what I say and how I say it does make a difference in framing the attitudes of the people who listen. That, that’s a big responsibility. So I’ve been thinking, it’s important to focus on the positive things too. I’m gonna try to do that more. Starting now.

What I said before was an exaggeration. Old Town isn’t completely destroyed. Oh yes, it’s uninhabitable, and some people who live there are now non-living. But there’s a lot of beauty left there, too! I mean, one might look over Old Town from the roof of the Earth Sciences building and appreciate the miles of pristine, shining water. Water we desert-dwellers never get to see! All of the tragedy and destruction is almost totally invisible beneath the waves, so it’s actually pretty easy to ignore. Oh, and one architectural landmark does remain. The controversial new traffic roundabout is glowing with blue light, and can be seen just below the water line, and will be ready to use again… soon.

Speaking of the roof of the Earth Sciences building, I should tell you guys what happened with Carlos the other night. It went really well, mostly. I mean, he was very open about the fact that he’s been hiding something from me, but he said it wasn’t a big deal and he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know I said all I wanted was for him to admit something was bothering him, and that him pretending nothing was wrong was really what was driving me crazy. But it turns out that wasn’t true. Now I’m being driven crazy by not knowing what it is. I mean, what if it’s about me? Even if it’s not about me directly, the fact that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling me it has to be a problem with us, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to share everything with each other, aren’t we?

I couldn’t let it go, so I finally asked him to see a couples counselor with me. The Really Tall One, who until last week had been staying with my sister and her husband, got her counseling license last week, so we’re going to see her. I even get a discount since she’s become so close to my niece Janice. We have our first phone session together scheduled for later today. I’m, I’m really hoping we can get to the bottom of this so I can stop obsessing! I mean, a-and also so Carlos can let go of whatever is distracting him so much, and then we can both get back to distracting each other. The emotional complexities of sharing a life with another are all that’s on my mind. Also, the sudden ocean which destroyed Old Town.

Oh, breaking news on that: all members of the Marine Biology Association have been reported missing. Randy lance, Girl Scouts Splinter faction leader, reports that the GPS tracking devices she secretly adhered to the biologists’ shoe heels have stopped transmitting, and no one has seen any of the biologists in over 24 hours. Members of the Tourism Board have declined verbal comment, instead offering a giddy smile while waving a giant foam number 1 finger. And with no biologists to throw a tantrum about menacing biohazards hidden in an unsecured locker, members of the Tourism Board have gone out to the storage unit in Radon Canyon to relocate their secret aquarium of semi-animate clear jelly collected from our new ocean to a more public venue.

Making our flooding situation even worse is the hard rain. On the bright side, we don’t normally get much rain around these parts. The gentle percussion of water is so soothing! It reminds me of my new sleep meditation track, Bloodstorm. More on the weather in a moment, but first an update from Radon Canyon. I’ve received word that the blobs of semi-animate translucent jelly in the Tourism Board’s aquarium have fused together to form one giant jelly cube that now completely fills the 12 foot by 12 foot storage unit from wall to wall. Horrifically unnerved by this discovery, agents from the Tourism Board who went to recover the aquarium have all left Radon Canyon and hired the Really Tall One for private therapy sessions. Head of the Tourism Board, Madeline LeFleur, released a statement which only said: “Well crap”. LeFleur was last seen in full sprint toward the airport.

And now, a PSA.

Deb: Hello friends. This is Deb, a sentient and occasionally benevolent, patch of haze. Speaking for the Department of Motor Vehicles. We’ve had some complaints about our eyeball donation program. We want to emphasize we created this program with only the best intentions. We’re sure you understand that. According to a survey, people in the donation program have been very satisfied they can retain some sort of consciousness after death. However, they have been reportedly very unsatisfied with what their eyes continue to see. This has ranged from nonconsensual television viewing in the middle of a season they’re not caught up with, to the witnessing of crimes and subsequent ethical dilemma of testifying in court against their own host bodies.

We hear your concerns. And you know what? Fine. The eyeball donation checkbox will be discontinued on all new DMV forms. The DMV itself has also been discontinued. If you need any services from the DMV, please go to another town. Please don’t call or come to the office. If you see any DMV workers around town, [tearily] please don’t speak to them or acknowledge their presents. It’s obvious you don’t like them. It will only make this harder for all of us. We think a little space would be good for us right now. But we do want you to know we were only trying to something nice. We care deeply about our DMV customers and have only wanted the best for you. We know that doesn’t make it right, but no matter what, just remember: the DMV loves you. The DMV has always loved you. That’s the important thing. If we could afford the rights to that Green Day song, we’d play. Good knowing you. Love, the DMV.

Cecil: I want to get back to the Carlos stuff, listeners. I really need to talk this all out, but I keep getting breaking news updates. We finally have word on the missing biologists. That’s good news. We found them out in the Scrublands. The bad news is we were only able to find partially eaten pieces of them. With the leadership of the Marine Biologist Association vacated, Randy Lance declared herself and the Girl Scouts Splinter Faction as the city’s foremost experts in marine biology. Lance surmises there is an aquatic creature of large tooth size and insatiable hunger living in this new ocean. Lance speculated the biologists were engaged in a heroic attempt to study the marine biology abruptly available to them, when events took a tragic turn. The biologists’ loved ones clarified that the biologists were actually fleeing town under the cover of night and got caught in the worst possible intersection of time and space, dying an agonized and terror-filled death in the exact matter that comprised their worst collective nightmare.

“He died doing what he loved,” a spouse of one of the deceased said. “Running away from his problems.”

[a song starts playing] Oh, oh look at the time! That’s Carlos and the Really Tall One calling in for our first counseling session. Um, oo, probably a good time for a weather report.

[“Clockwork Family” by Dan Warren. soundcloud.com/danwarren]

Well, that was an interesting first counseling session. Carlos apologized for being so quiet recently, and I said it was OK, I was just worried about him, and the Really Tall One said we both sounded like we loved each other a lot. And I said, well yes but that’s not the point right now, the point is I want to know all of Carlos’ secrets! And Carlos said, “Cecil, if it really means that much to you, I’ll tell you. The truth is, this isn’t my first phantom ocean. Before I ever came to Night Vale, there was an incident. It happened years ago, it was a different situation, but similar enough that I got preoccupied thinking about it these last few weeks. And sometimes I just need a little space to process things on my own first. It doesn’t mean I’m hiding anything from you. I mean, I kind of am, but if it were truly serious or was directly about us, I would talk with you about it. This is just a scientific and catastrophic phenomenon, not something to do with us.” That is verbatim what Carlos said. I wrote down every exact word, like an inexperienced journalist carefully investigating a huge story.

And then I said, “Yes OK fine, but what happened? What incident?” And – he said he still didn’t really want to talk about it and I asked the Really Tall One, “Aren’t there some sort of therapy exercised we could do to encourage Carlos to reveal every detail of his past to us immediately?” And she said “No”. And I said, “Maybe hypnosis or telekinesis?” I mean, she’s new to the counseling profession and maybe isn’t aware of all the tools available to be her yet. She said we have to accept that Carlos doesn’t want to talk about it right now, and maybe doesn’t want to talk about it ever. She said a person’s secrets are their own to keep or disclose and it isn’t necessarily an indication of the degree of intimacy in a relationship.

And I said, [chuckling] “Oh, really? Tell that to my 8th grade self!” Immediately embarrassed, I doubled down and said, “I played truth or dare and revealed to my friends that I’m afraid of mirrors and that I have a crush on someone in the room.” “That’s cute!” Carlos said. “Who was there?” And I said, “I can’t tell you!” And then I said, “I can’t remember, actually.” I don’t even remember what year I was in the 8th grade, let alone how old I am or even what I look like, because of the whole mirror thing. But I didn’t want to tell Carlos all that. It was too painful and complicated and not important. And the Really Tall One who could, I’m sure, hear all of my thoughts, smiled over the phone, which I thought was smug. I’m still not sure how I feel about any of this.

I have a lot more to say here, but there’s been some breaking news updates piling up on my desk. Let’s skim through the most interesting looking ones. Yeah. In order to protect us from the growing jelly cube and its apparent power to create random phantom oceans, the City Council decided the key to the jelly-filled storage unit in Radon Canyon will be destroyed, fed to whatever aquatic beast ate the marine biologists. A new budget line item was then approved to pay monthly rent on the unit indefinitely rather than, quote, “ever open that door again”. This cost to the city will be covered by the new tax increases on rental cars, gasoline, and dreams where you realize you’re naked in public.

A memorial service was held for the remaining body parts of the members of the Marine Biology Association. It was a beautiful service, in which each body part was given recognition for its unique contribution to the whole of who each person was. Inspired by this touching memorial, as well as the silent horror finally locked away in Radon public storage, the Tourism Board has decided to abandon plans for the Harbor Waterfront expansion project. Instead, it will shift its focus to renovating the recently destroyed Old Town. Plans for new Old Town are already underway, with some blueprints taken from the children’s redesigned Old Town drawing contest, hosted by the Girl Scouts Splinter Faction. The Captain is even slated to open a fusion restaurant there later this year. Mmmm, I love non-specific fusion cuisine.

[clears throat] Members of the Tourism Board have acknowledged that a huge amount of money and effort will go into the renovations and that all of the work, time, and expanse may or may not be destroyed by a similar incident at any moment. “C’est la vie”, they were hard to utter. It’s possible they actually said, “sepa vediare”, a protection spell that makes all sand eels harbingers of good fortune. Mm, hm.

OK, I only have a few moments of airtime left, and I just wanted to say, well… You know how if you keep staring at that one spot in the ceiling, it starts to look like a face? And the harder you look, the more it takes shape, and when you can finally see it really clearly, the face never disappears and it’s always there watching you? Or, or like how Oxyclean has those commercials where they can get blood out of everything from jeans to gloves to loaves of bread, but when you actually use the product, [angrily] those stains just never go away, reminding you day after day of what you’ve done? Or, no, OK, anyway.

[calm voice] What I’m trying to say is Carlos, if you’re listening, I’m sorry I freaked out and kept pressuring you to talk. Taking space for yourself is not the same as pushing someone away. And I guess I needed a little space too to figure that out. Whatever you need, I totally respect that. I can even go hang out at the Pancake House tonight if you- if you want some alone time. OK, I just wanted to say that before… Oh. Oh, Carlos just texted. “Come home now and I will do the opposite of push you away.” Well. Maybe what I’m trying to say is, [cheerfully] I think I’ve been on the air too long, I really should be getting home like right now.

Stay tuned next for bubble wrap being popped by rolling pins meant to simulate the explosion of fireworks.

Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night!

Today’s proverb: Pick a company and invest all your money in it. The absolute worst that could happen is that you’ll lose every cent and it would be terrifying and life-changing, so give it a shot.

17/04/2018 18:32:23 ¶ ●

The transcript for the new bonus episode, “Listener questions April 2018″, is now available for donors.

Email us at cecilspeaks@outlook.com and attach a copy of your email from the WTNV team.