April 2015

Episode 65 - Voicemail

Cecil, recorded: You have reached the voicemail of Cecil Gershwin Palmer. That might seem like an easy thing to do, but think about how long you had to stay alive just to learn how a phone works and who I am. Congratulate yourself on that. Give yourself a vigorous pat on the back, and…don’t forget to leave a message after the heavily distorted sample of a man saying “I just couldn’t eat another bite.”


I̱̺̭͕̜ ̥̐͂͆̋j̰̥͔̔̒ͬ̐͆͊ͮǘ͓̺̳̰̑ͅs͕̝͎̼̞̏t͚̋ ̟̥͂ͧ̑c̓ͬ́͐̌̀o͇͖ͩ̋̄̊̽ͬu͈̲͉͍̩ͦ̎l̩̜͊̽̉͛̅ͥd̙̝͌͑̐͗͆n̬'̟̹̦͖̒͗͐͛t̰̠̙͖̱̹̰͌ͨ͆ͬ ̤̭̲̭̪͇ͪ̄ͯ́ͯ͊̍ͅê͕͈̣ͩ͆̂ͩa̯̠͍̮̾t͉͈̊ ̟̯͂͐͊̌̌̍ͅa̺̮̻̮̱͚̩͛n̟̝͇͎̥̂ͫ̏̈́o̺̰͇͔̹͓̩͊̍ṫ͇̠̭̻ͦh͉̹̼͙̯̊͒̂͛e͖̗͉̦͗̄ͩr̖̺͍̩͆̈́̓̈́ ̫͈̟̗̞ͤͣͧͅb̰ͮͤ͗͊ͬͧi̠̺̙̍t͚͙̆ẽ̜͈̞͐̌.̮ͧ̍̏ͯ̋͒

Carlos, with wind in the background: Hey, sweetie, it’s Carlos. I know you’re probably busy talking, or not talking. It seems like you’re always talking, or not talking, you know?

So, I’ll try again in a bit, but I just wanted to let you know what’s up here. What’s up? The sky!

OK, OK, that is a funny joke, but it is also a scientifically accurate one. I only tell scientifically accurate jokes. I don’t get how people can find inaccurate jokes funny.

Like, OK, so a horse walks into a bar, and says “I feel used. As a species, even, I feel used.” And so then the bartender, who is also a horse, ‘cause, you know, this is the Horse District where the horses live when they’re not being used by the humans, and the horse bartender says, “Don’t I know it, buddy!” and the first horse says “I’m not your buddy!” And then he says, “Man, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was awful of me. It’s the anger.”

So, that’s another example of a scientifically accurate joke.

Things are going really well here. With the help of Doug and Alicia and the other members of the masked army who live in this strange desert other world, we’ve been starting to build out an infrastructure. Of course, I had already set up a temporary lab, but now we’ve dug up the stones that were used in the old settlements up on the mountain and have been building important basics of life, like shelter and roads and blood stone circles. It’s starting to look downright homey around here…if you ignore the disquieting wasteland beyond. So it’s just like the rest of the world, really.

There’s lots of material to work with, because – get this – we’ve been just finding stuff lately. Microwaves, toolboxes, old tennis balls. They look like they’ve been here a while. I’m not sure how this stuff ended up here, but I’m going to find out.

Ooh! That reminds me. I’m thinking of getting a tattoo with the definition of science straight out of Webster’s Dictionary. So it’ll say, quote, “I don’t know, but I’m trying to find out, OK?” end quote, and then it’ll have a skull and some roses. Ooh, maybe an anchor, to make it look old-timey.

Hmm.

I’m still working on how to get you here, but I will. How? I don’t know, but I’m trying to find out, OK?

OK?

OK.

I love you. Talk again soon.

[BEEP]

Michelle Nguyen: Hey, Cecil, it’s Michelle from Dark Owl Records calling. The new…ugh…Woody Guthrie album is in for you? I can’t believe you’re still listening to that stuff! He hasn’t been cool since his electro-punk period. We’re all listening to archival recordings of bees now.

Come in for your stupid album and I’ll show you the bee sounds while you’re here. And maybe you could hang out for a while, because I’m lonely and I need more human contact. Ugh. Woody Guthrie?

[BEEP]

Steve Carlsberg, with “A Wandering Star” from Paint Your Wagon playing in the background: Hey, Cecil! I know you said that I wasn’t allowed to leave any voicemails on your phone, and you marched around the room waving your arms and saying, “No, Steve Carlsberg, no voicemails!” then you tried to convince me that voicemails aren’t real, but you couldn’t, because I know what is what around here.

I know what is what.

But anyways, I just wanted to make a quick call to see if Janice could stay with you in a few months. Abby and I are looking at doing a nice little vacation. You know, just the two of us. Somewhere romantic, like the Warehouse District, or the Sand Wastes, or Arby’s. You of all people know how romantic a long weekend at Arby’s can be!

Which – listen. By the way, I meant it as just a nice gift when I printed up all those T-shirts of you and Carlos there, looking up at the lights. And you got all weird about it, but…I don’t mind. Sorry I made you upset again.

Just get back to me about the Janice thing, or answer me on your radio show while ranting about me. Either way is fine.

Hope everything’s going well with Carlos. Hope everything is just…going. Hope everything goes. Hope it’s gone. We all do.

Okie dokie!

[BEEP]

Tamika Flynn: Cecil, Tamika Flynn here. I’m calling to let you know that me and the rest of the missing children are having a book drive. We’re taking books and herding them out on the long trail. Sleepless nights on our horses, books clear from our feet out to a horizon gone dusty, with the dreary stomp of spine and page upon Earth, the sad yelp of books taken in the night by coyotes or librarians…I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but when my horse is neck deep in the Colorado, and I’m watching the drowned carcass of some book that will never find a reader again float away on that relentless current, I’ll think about you.

Also, it will probably be Thursday. We’ll be back Thursday. We’re not taking the books that far. They can’t walk, and…they’re not even sentient, so this will be a short one.

Oh! Gotta go. Night Film by Marisha Pessl is looking restless, and I’m worried it’ll start a stampede!

[BEEP]

Earl Harlan, with the sound of a crowded restaurant in the background: Hi, it’s me. Sure, I’d love to come back and do another segment of “Cooking Stuff with Earl Harlan.” I have this great recipe for pumpkin pie. There’s so much less blood splatter than you would think!

Um, but listen, I’m trying to schedule a little more time in my life for my son. It’s hard for both of us, what with me having a full-time kitchen job, plus going straight from being a childless teenager to a middle-aged man with an eleven-year-old. I– I mean, they have Sesame Street episodes about it that you can show your kid, but even with PBS’s help, trying to explain how weird time is? It’s really hard! Time is unimaginably weird.

Uh, my son’s name is Roger. I finally asked him, and he told me. It was that easy, and it wasn’t easy at all.

I gotta get back to the kitchen. We have a lot of orders coming in, plus it’s on fire. Cook with you soon, Cecil.

[BEEP]

Fey: SEVENTEEN.
EIGHTY-EIGHT.
[DING]
FORTY-NINE.
EIGHTY-SIX.
EIGHTY-ONE.
SIXTY-EIGHT.

'CAUSE I AM A CHAMPION ♫
♪ AND YOU’RE GONNA HEAR ME… ♪
[SIGH]

EIGHTY-ONE.
EIGHTY-THREE.
[DING]
FOUR.

[BEEP]

Carlos: Hey, sorry to call again so soon…I know we talked about space and boundaries and all of that, especially with this whole Lot 37 thing you’re going through…gotta have time to think. And Cec, I understand a time to think, but I have made an important scientific discovery, and you know the rules are different when an important scientific discovery is made. An important scientific discovery is grounds to interrupt anything!

I found people! Here, in this desert other world! We – me, and the members of the masked army – saw human shapes coming towards us. The masked army opted, as is their way, for something of a warlike response, but I convinced them that it was important to discover the facts before formulating a response – an idea to which Doug roared in a fearsome voice, “THAT MAKES TOTAL SENSE! LET’S GO CHAT WITH THEM AND SEE WHAT’S UP!

And here is, my sweet Cecil, what was up. These people were citizens of Night Vale. They had been lost from their home, as of today, for exactly two years, and they have apparently been wandering the desert since!

They are a tad traumatized by their years in a featureless wasteland accompanied only by a distant rumble and a bright light that they felt primarily in the roots of their teeth, and so they haven’t told me yet how they got here, but I have them resting in the hot yoga studio we recently built, so I hope to hear their story soon. And when I hear the story, you will too. And then, you know, I’m sure everyone who listens to your show will, you old blabbermouth!

You know, it would upset me if it weren’t just who you are. So much of each other would be annoying if it weren’t also the essence of us. Hmm.

OK, more soon.

[BEEP]

Deb: Hello, Cecil. It’s Deb, the sentient patch of haze. I have some new ad copy I wanted to run by you, and then I want to disregard any petty human feelings you have about it, and then I want to run the ad on the air. Here goes, okay?

I drift above you. I see mostly the top of your heads. You are pitiful from that perspective. Your hair droops, or falls out, or hangs flat. I haze above you, sentiently. You slog below me, humanly.
Sentient patches of haze: we are the future. We are also the past. You aren’t even the props. You are the backdrop.

So if you have any issues or questions at all about that ad, don’t hesitate to not tell me.

Hope you’re having a great day. Okay, Cecil, buh-bye.

[BEEP]

Faceless Old Woman, with the sound of moths fluttering about in the background: Hello, Cecil. It’s the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home. I’m in your closet, listening to moths eat one of your suits. They make such a lovely crunch and tear.

I just wanted to reach out in regards to you protecting your former intern, Dana, against Hiram and I’s good work toward destroying her. You’ve foiled us more than once. I won’t forget that, Cecil. I forget nothing. Unlike you, your brain a dusty surface so easily blown clean.

My memory cakes on. It stains. It warps. My memory’s erosion. It is on the very surface of the earth.

Do you feel my fingernails on your back? No. You don’t. I could do so many things to you without you feeling it. Remember that, if you remember nothing else…which seems likely these days.

Tell Carlos I said hi. I always liked him.

And stay out of my way, or I will destroy you. Just as these moths I caught outside and carried into your closet are destroying all of your clothing.

[BEEP]

Old Woman Josie: Cecil. I’m here with Erika and Erika, just checking to see if we can get a ride to league night later. My car’s in the shop because I stopped believing in it, so if you can fit us all in there, we’d appreciate it.

Also, I can’t use my left hand lately, so it might be a little tricky, but we are still going to win. We’ll crush 'em, Cecil!

[BEEP]

Dana: Hi, Cecil! It’s may–…it’s Dana. I hope you’re doing OK. You seem kind of…I mean, lately. Lately you’ve been…

Isn’t it weird how we talked more when I was trapped in that distant desert other world than now when we work a five-minute drive from each other? It’s funny how life works.

That word meant the opposite of its usual meaning. That’s funny too, I guess.

I know you think I bought Lot 37, but you’re wrong. I wasn’t in Night Vale at the time. Yes, I projected myself into the auction that day, but I only bought some collectible spoons and a Lee Marvin autographed baseball of my brother. That’s all, though.

It’s awful when you can see the reasoning for someone’s feeling towards you while knowing wholly that they’re wrong.

I wonder sometimes if my double could have done better, or if I am the double, whether the original me would have done better. Did I destroy my better half? Then maybe I was lucky that even half of me was better, once upon a time.

Cecil, I do my best with what I have. I don’t have much.

I hope we’ll talk soon. Night Vale needs me as much as it needs you, and when it comes down to it, I’ll stand for that before anything else. It’s my job.

OK.

[BEEP]

[Electronic static and feedback]

[BEEP]

Carlos: Hey, OK, quick update, and then *poof* I’m gone again from your voicemail.

I’ve put some of the junk we found and some of the people we found in my lab, and I’m studying them using microscopes and vials of bubbling liquid and me making thoughtful expressions and saying things like “Hmm.” So I’m really using all of the available scientific tools right now.

Ooh, I feel like I’m on the verge of something big here, something new!

I’ll call you soon. [Gasp] This is so exciting!

[BEEP]

Hiram McDaniels - Gold Head: Well, howdy Cecil! Uh, Frank Chen here.

Blue Head: Yes, Frank Chen. With 100% certainty, that is who I am.

Gold Head: Right. Uh, so, uh, Frank Chen, normal human with one voice. No other voices interrupting that main voice, making me sound anything less than human.

Green Head: What’s going on? Someone put the phone near my ears! I can’t hear!

Gray Head: Well, there’s that busted.

Gold Head: Just normal Frank Chen, uh, playing a joke with funny voices, wantin’ to hear if the mayor told you any plans she might have. I’m curious 'cause, uh, I’m a citizen, and a voter.

Purple Head: This was a bad plan! I told you I didn’t want any more to do with your foolish plans!

Gold Head: Purple! Green, Blue, Gray, come on, guys! We’re in this together!

[Exasperated sigh]

Just…all right. Frank Chen, average person of normal head amount, saying, uh, goodbye. See ya around, Cecil.

[BEEP]

Automated voices: Hello, this is your daily update from the automated weather service. Here is the current weather.

[“Tag!” by Scarves]

Automated voices: Thank you for using our automated weather service. Have a nice day.

[BEEP]

Carlos: Cecil! Cecil, I did it! I understand! I hooked everything up to computers, and I said “hmm” a lot, and then I asked the people to talk about how they ended up in the desert and it turned out that they were all lured into the Dog Park during Poetry Week. And then the gates closed on them, and they’ve been in this desert ever since.

And I thought about this. I thought about how Dana came in here with them on that same day, and about all of the stuff I found, which I think is junk that people got rid of by throwing them over the walls of the forbidden Dog Park.

And I realized…this is the Dog Park! This whole desert, the mountain, the light up on the mountain, we’re in a vast, perhaps endless, and definitely endlessly forbidden Dog Park!

Which means you can visit now! You just have to walk through that Dog Park gate, and then…you know, walk a few more hundred miles after that to wherever we’re at in this huge desert, and then you’ll be able to take that vacation here!

Uh, call me as soon as you get this. Cecil! Oh, honey-voiced honey! You’ll be able to visit!

Talk soon. I love you.

[BEEP]

Kevin: Hey, friend! We haven’t spoken in a while. Not since all that…unpleasantness happened. I hope everything has been super-pleasant since then.

Oh! But hey! I’ve been working on something I’d like to show you. I think you’ll be just jazzed about it! Get back to me A.S.A.P., OK?

Until next time, Cecil. Until next time.

[BEEP]


Instead of a proverb today, I just have some important news about the stray cats that live outside my apartment. There is the usual one, named Bisquick, who is missing one ear and is terrifying, but today I saw a second one, who is fatter and less terrifying and who I have named The Baron. I will keep you updated as events unfold.

Episode 66 - worms...

We all lie dreamily upon damp earth, spotting clouds shaped like animals we have yet to invent.

Welcome to Night Vale.

If you woke up today, you’re probably already well aware of the worms. It’s been about 12 years since the last round of worm-based terror in this town, but…they’re back. They’re doing all of the usual worm things: flying around and dropping trees onto cars and houses, spitting venom at people, and eating stray cats and then leaving large mewling pellets all about town.

Thousands of worms have managed to completely envelop the Rec Center Annex, which is where today’s continuing education course, Counter-Terrorism Techniques for Beginners, was taking place. Sadly, despite frequent pleas by many to classify worm attacks as terrorism, worms remain classified as a low-grade infestation – and thus were not covered in today’s continuing education coursework. This means more giant squirming pellets to clean up.

Um, yeah, yeah…worms…worms, worms, worms…great.

Hey. Unrelated to anything, just wondering, but…have you ever asked yourself why the Dog Park is off limits? I mean, I know it’s a municipal park and all, but shouldn’t citizens be able to use it? Seems kind of weird, right? That you can’t just go to the Dog Park and hang out. Maybe even…bring your dog? I don’t know. It’s not like it contains any kind of vast desert otherworld where my boyfriend lives, it’s…I’m sure it’s just a plain old Dog Park and not an alt-dimensional portal!

Maybe our mayor will try to open up the Dog Park for public use. Just…temporarily. Say, for a few minutes. Maybe our mayor can help me out for once. That would certainly be a friendly and mayoral thing to do.

After years of applications for city approval, there is finally an official Night Vale Book Club, listeners! The Book Club, which is run by 14 year-old bibliophile and heroic vigilante Tamika Flynn, will feature weekly discussions of popular and classic fiction, as well as Q&As with book experts about some of literature’s most famous controversies., like last week’s heated argument about whether or not Herman Melville really wrote all of the novels which bear his name, or just Fight Club.

The Book Club meets Tuesdays from 2:00pm to 4:00pm at Patty’s Hardware and Discount Pastries. Members can candidly discuss the books without fear of most government repercussions, while noshing on some delicious wheat- and wheat byproduct-free pastries sold at great discount to you.

Patty’s also specializes in hammers, crowbars, and anything heavy that fits in your hand and can be easily swung.

“Shop at Patty’s. They’ll never suspect a thing!” Patty shouts in the looped recording playing from her perpetually squirming animatronic statue out front of her flagship store.

This week’s book is Helen DeWitt’s The Last Samurai. There is only one heavily-charred edition of this novel left in the world, but Tamika assures us that she managed to…“borrow” a copy from the library’s Forbidden Material Collection. She did finger quotes around the word “borrow,” while also shaking her head no and stomping “I am being totally facetious” in Morse code with her right leg. Then, an owl landed on her shoulder and winked.

Spring League baseball tryouts are next Saturday afternoon at the Haunted Baseball Diamond. Children new to organized baseball will be assigned teams automatically, based entirely on their personal dispositions. That way there’s a whole team of courageous players, a whole team of clever players, one of conniving selfish players, and one that…takes all the rest of the players. Just like the four Major League Baseball teams. Tryouts are from 10:00am to 2:00pm, with volunteer coaches Betty Lucero and Lucia Tereschenko.

The Night Vale Youth Baseball Association is asking parents to bring any extra baseballs to tryouts, as coach Tereschenko died over 150 years ago, and is now a ghost, and so has a hard time picking up ground balls during batting drills.

Um, getting an update on the worms…City Council has now elevated the warning scale from “worms…” (with a lower-case w followed by an ellipses) to “Worms!!” (with a capital W and two exclamation points). It has not yet reached all-caps “WORMS!!!” but, if something is not done, this could become a more destructive “Worms!!” outbreak than the famous

with all caps, one exclamation point, and underlined-twice disaster of 1997.

You know, listeners, if the worms get near the Dog Park, um, perhaps the Hooded Figures who pace about behind the tall black fences would get distracted. And then I could…run in there, and get to the desert otherw– ha…I– I…I could just go check out the dogs! Catching tennis balls, and– and have a nice afternoon in a local park.

Or…actually, no. No. I’d make a break for the desert otherworld inside the Dog Park, and finally go visit Carlos.

Or…you know. Something.

And now, a word form our sponsors.

Too much clutter in your home? Do you have excess furniture? Old clothes? A couple of folding bikes you never ride anymore? Jazz CDs that you no longer want because you finally realized how intellectually dangerous they can be?

Perhaps you could put that stuff online for sale!

There’s no reason to let old junk go to waste. How does that saying go? “One person’s trash is another person’s leather bodysuit?” It’s true! I bet that couch of yours would look really good in, say, Denise Esposito’s house. In fact, it’s there now. We went ahead and sold your couch to Denise. She’s already come and picked it up while you were at work.

Also, we sold your TV to Sally Jensen, and your fridge to Mario Landis, and both of your cats to Pedro Renia. We sold all of your belongings, and you didn’t have to do a thing!

Craigslist. We sold your stuff while you were gone.

Due to today’s worm attacks, the Sheriff’s Secret Police are putting their search on hold for literal five-headed dragon Hiram McDaniels and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home. After the attempted coup at City Hall several weeks back, the Secret Police have been aggressively pursuing the two fugitives, who have reportedly conspired many times to overthrow Mayor Dana Cardinal.

Mayor Cardinal has been imperiled several times in the last month, only to be saved by someone controlling Night Vale Community Radio host Cecil Palmer…who is still quite upset about being used against his will.

“If the mayor had just asked for my help, I would have happily come to her aid on my own,” a frustrated Palmer said, just now, into this very microphone.

Palmer alleges that Mayor Cardinal purchased him last year in an auction, and has been using him as her personal protector. The mayor has denied these charges – but, like the Night Vale Constitution says, denying that you are guilty is a major sign of guilt.

The Secret Police had previously wanted against approaching either Hiram or the Faceless Old Woman, as they are both deadly. But, the Secret Police have been so busy dealing with the worms today, that they just can’t deal with everything on their own.

“Maybe you could…help us out a bit, you think?” a Secret Police spokesperson said, as worms gripped his legs tighter. “I– I'm– I’m sure you’ll be fine. If you could find either the 18-foot tall, five-headed dragon, or the omnipresent ethereal woman who you can’t quite ever see, go ahead! Bring them down! Thanks for doing that. Big help. Big help,” the spokesperson said as the worm consumed, with one slimy gulp, the cutlass in his left hand.

The Secret Police added they received a tip from Night Vale human Frank Chen that he saw Hiram McDaniels flying far away, to some other place. And so, Chen said, Hiram is definitely not still in Night Vale.

“Hiram ain’t comin’ ‘round here anymore. I’m sure of it!” Chen’s long Gold Head stated.

“I will burn your frail, useless corpse, human!” Chen’s scaly Green Head added.

“Stop calling people humans! We are human, remember?” Chen’s Blue Head said.

“Uh, I mean, I am human, OK?” Chen’s Gray Head said.

“Knock it off, you guys!” Chen’s Purple Head grumbled, from behind the other heads.

Speaking of the Faceless Old Woman, she knows a lot about this town. I bet I could ask her how to get into the Dog Park, how to get into that desert otherworld. I should ask her, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to find…

Faceless Old Woman: Ask me what?

Cecil: Oh! Hah! Faceless Old Woman, you…you scared me.

Faceless Old Woman: I know. So, you want to go to the desert otherworld and visit your boyfriend?

Cecil: Well, I do…

Faceless Old Woman: You are upset that the mayor has been using you to protect her from those wonderful threats to her life, and you’re frustrated by this town. And you just want some time away to clear your head, and so you don’t have to always be saving the mayor from whatever great forces are trying to remove her from office.

Cecil: Well, that’s…

Faceless Old Woman: And by “great,” I mean “really incredible.” Of course, who even knows who’s been doing all this to the mayor? I mean, I know. I know everything. But…all of these delightful rumors and lies about me and Hiram…I mean, how can people even report such rumors? Well, they’re not totally untrue, I suppose. And how on Earth could I even get…

Cecil: But, Faceless Old Woman, is

Faceless Old Woman: Yes. I’m sorry. I’m a bit distracted.

Cecil: You know how to get into the Dog Park.

Faceless Old Woman: I do. And I want to help you, because…well, I want you to be happy, Cecil. I will tell you how in a dream. You will be in a boat – which will sink, of course – and you will lose all of your teeth. And as you are trying to pick up your teeth, you will find an oil painting of a Victrola. You will then place the needle on the record and eat the entire painting. Your chest will open, and dozens of red birds with gold ribbons in their talons will fly from you, and the ribbons will lift your limp, open body, carrying you through the sea and dropping you onto a frantic eddy of pink fish near a pink reef. You must wake immediately when you see the shadow of a young woman emerging from behind the coral. Do not look long at her.

When you awake, you will hear her whisper.

Cecil: And she will tell me how to get into the Dog Park?

Faceless Old Woman: I don’t know what she will tell you.

Cecil: Well, Faceless Old Woman…

Faceless Old Woman: I have to go. I have to get back to keeping a distant eye on whatever it is that Chad is doing in that cursed home of his.

You’ll be fine. Night Vale will be fine. The mayor will be…

Take a nice, long break, Cecil. You’ve earned it.

Cecil: Faceless Old Woman? Hello?

She’s gone, I think.

[Ominous sound of Station Management in the background, sort of like what I imagine a large dinosaur caught in a bear trap large enough to snare a large dinosaur might sound like]

Listeners? Oh, dear. I have made a bad mistake. I believe I have upset Station Management. I think my openly talking about the Dog Park has proved to be far too political a topic for this station’s old-fashioned values that believe in not questioning local, world, or secret reptilian governments, nor their parks.

I have grown cavalier in my anxiousness to get out of town for a vacation, and this lack of care in my job, perhaps, will lead to my end! I do not like the color glowing around my studio door right now. I do not like the predatorial sniffing around the door’s edge. I do not like that hum, nor the heat of my skin, nor the cold in my heart.

I cannot face them, listeners! I can not! I just want a vacation! I just want to see Carlos, for a week! A day! A…

[Station Management goes suddenly silent]

An envelope!

Oh, no! The noise and the lights are gone! All that is left is a black envelope, upon which is a single silver glyph, lightly afire. I…I do not recognize the language, nor even the alphabet of this burning symbol. But I know, in my mind, exactly what this says. I wish I did not know.

I must have courage. I must open this frightful news. Before I do, let me say I am sorry to Station Management, and to the city of Night Vale. I have…betrayed your trust with my careless speech. If spared, I promise to never speak ill nor question the Dog Park again, but…for now, I will take myself to my punishment.

And I will take you to the weather.

[“Little Black Star” by Hurray for the Riff Raff]

So…guess what? The envelope wasn’t about the Dog Park at all. I fell to my knees, begging Station Management for forgiveness, but they silenced me immediately. They were simply letting me know that my vacation had finally been approved!

I was confused for a moment. I asked about the burning glyph on the outside of the envelope and what I thought it meant – which took some explaining, as I didn’t know how to describe that particular horrifying experience in English. And they laughed, and said, “No, that glyph is just the ancient abbreviation for Human Resources. They’re who approve the vacations around here.”

Then they showed me the actual glyph that meant what I thought the other one meant, and I lost consciousness. I’m not sure for how long.

When I woke, I heard the whispered instructions from the woman in the coral!

And then I heard laughter. Station Management was…laughing! And I laughed, too! And then they stopped laughing, or…growling? Perhaps it was growling they were doing. It’s very difficult to say what that noise is they make.

Oh. Wow. Yeah, I think it was growling.

Aw, now I’m super embarrassed about laughing.

Anyway, the worms. *Ahem* The worms have backed down, thanks to a flamethrower and fierce rhetoric by the City Council, resulting in some sick burns…both metaphorically and literally. The worms have left, sure to return for us again someday as all of nature eventually will.

Friends, listeners, all of Night Vale…I love you. Very much. But I need time away to be with Carlos. Yes.

And, also, some time to myself. To reflect. Also, I got a message from an old…colleague? Acquaintance? Nemesis? who lives there as well.

You know, I don’t want to talk about it just yet.

Night Vale, we’ve had many great years together. And I won’t be gone long, but…I’ve also grown…weary. Weary of some friends who are less than friends. Weary of fights that need not be fought. Weary of not being myself some of the time, which is something I strongly prefer to be all of the time. Weary, sometimes, of Night Vale itself, I think.

I’ll be back. Whenever. Refreshed…you’ll know when! It’ll be when you hear my voice again!

Stay tuned next for…oh, I don’t know! Anyway, time for a vacation!

Goodnight, Night Vale.

[Cecil can be heard taking off his headset]

Goodnight! Whoo-hoo!

[Cecil leaves the studio, and we hear the door close behind him]

Today’s proverb: When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. But, because of distance, not for millions of years.