Episode 77 - A Stranger
When a window closes, so does a door.
So do all the other doors and
windows. The house is alive, and it doesn’t know you, and it is
scared.
Welcome to Night
Vale.
Today’s top
story: there’s a strange person standing in the lobby of our radio
station. This person is standing still, in front of the reception
counter. Our receptionist, Lance, keeps asking the stranger if they
need anything, or if they are here to see anyone. The stranger has
not moved. Lance said that he never saw the stranger enter. He looked
up, and the stranger was just there, about eight feet away from
Lance’s desk.
The stranger has
eyes that are darker than some people’s eyes, but lighter than other
people’s eyes. The same could be said about the stranger’s hair,
teeth, clothing, lips, and skin.
The stranger
stands with their arms at their side, weight distributed evenly
across the hips – a rigid but casual stance. The stranger can be
seen breathing. It is hard to say exactly what the stranger is
looking at. It is even harder to say what the stranger wants.
Lance told me he
would update me on the stranger, and I will do the same for you,
listeners.
Now it’s time for
another Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
Did you know that
over 70% of the earth’s surface is water? It’s true! Scientists
believe that the other 30% is some kind of animal hide. Their data
shows that the world’s continents comprise the leathery back of a
slow-moving ocean beast. They don’t know specifically what kind of
beast, but scientists hope that it’s cute.
Or, at minimum,
non-venomous and fairly easy to take care of.
Scientists are
hoping they’re wrong about all of this, but given that they’re
scientists, that’s pretty much impossible.
Lest the beast
reveal its true nature, please walk gently and speak softly so as not
to alert it to your presence.
This has been
Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
Mayor Dana
Cardinal announced this morning that she has been in touch with
neighboring city Desert Bluffs.
“It’s
a disgusting town with terrible people, and we will no longer speak
of them,” she would have announced, if she were me. But, here is
what she actually said:
Dana: What
does it mean to be a good neighbor, Night Vale? Is it enough that we
introduce ourselves? That we say hello? That we avoid eye contact and
have sturdy doors and call centers for reporting suspicious activity?
How far out does neighborliness extend?
Because I have
tapped my friend’s phones, and am using trained birds to record all
of their activities, does that make me a kind person? A neighborly
person?
It does.
But
what about beyond what we can see? Who
we can see? How far does our kindness extend? To the limits of our
city? To the limits of our eyesight? To the end of our block? To the
tips of our noses?
People of Night
Vale, we have a chance to help a neighbor in need. I have been
approached by our friends to the north…
W–
wait, I– I’m being told it’s not
to the north. To the east.
Oh…which direction are they, then? What?
It changes? Really?
Okay.
Shh. Shhhh!
…By our nearby
friends in this desert.
Due to financial
hardships, the people of Desert Bluffs are in need. We are all in
this together, Night Vale. Sickness can spread, whether that sickness
is viral or economic. We must not ignore our neighbors, our friends.
Today I have
asked the City Council to negotiate a low-interest loan to Desert
Bluffs, our proximate civic family. I think they would do the same
for us.
[Dana starts sounding as if she is
chewing something as she speaks]
If I sound
passionate, it is because my heart is full of blood. If I sound
boisterous, it is because my lungs are full of words. If I sound like
I am eating, it’s because my mouth is full of dirt. Sometimes I chew
on dirt when I’m anxious, or when I’m happy, or when I’m talking. I
like chewing on dirt.
[Dana returns to regular speech,
her mouth apparently no longer full]
I hope you will
support your neighbors in whatever direction they live. I hope you
will support my decision as mayor.
Good day, Night
Vale.
Cecil:
Mayor Cardinal’s deputy, Trish Hidge, said there would be no
questions. She then picked the mayor up into her arms, pulled her
cloak across their huddled bodies, and ran through the crowd, bowling
over journalists and onlookers, and some random jogger who thinks
he’s better than everyone else because he exercises publicly.
The City Council
has already registered their opposition to the mayor’s plan to help
Desert Bluffs. The City Council issued their own statement, which was
to stomp into their room, slam the door, and play Rihanna very
loudly.
I
have to say, I agree
with the City Council on this issue, listeners. I understand Mayor
Cardinal’s concern about Desert Bluffs’ struggling economy, and she
is a very kind and sympathetic person. But, as the poet Robert Frost
once said, “Good fences make good neighbors. Really strong
fences. With razor wire and turrets. Keep those neighbors out.”
And Frost was
right.
I support Dana on
most issues, but I say, save your sympathy for your own town’s
people.
An update on the
stranger standing in our lobby:
The
stranger is still
standing in our lobby. Lance approached them, but grew scared. The
stranger stood so still that it became impossible to derive context
from motion or activity. Any sound or movement the stranger might
make would be completely divorced of linear narrative or conventional
meaning. At any moment the stranger could suddenly lurch, or shriek,
without apparent cause. Thus the clenching terror Lance felt as he
neared the person in the lobby.
Lance mentioned
he could hear breathing. It wasn’t labored, but it also wasn’t quiet.
“It was a
person breathing,” Lance confirmed.
I’m
not entirely sure how Lance confirmed that. I’m also not entirely
sure how anyone can confirm anything,
so let’s just go with what Lance says.
Listeners, if
you’ve been trying to call into the station I apologize, as Lance is
too frozen in fear to do much of anything. He thinks he sees the
stranger moving, but he also thinks he does not. He is desperate for
some explanation of this person’s presence in our lobby, but he has
received none.
Lance is now
crying, but without tears.
He is screaming,
but without sound.
He wants so gain
the courage to touch the stranger, to hit the stranger, to punch and
punch and kick and claw at the stranger. He wants to feel the relief,
a release from the madness of mystery. He would rather experience
actual pain than wait any longer in anticipation of the unknown.
Lance wants to
sigh, but he cannot. He doesn’t remember the last time he exhaled. He
is not sure of what is real. So he is sorry if you keep getting our
voicemail here at the station. It’s been a rough day.
More on this
soon. But first, let’s have a look at this week’s Community Calendar.
Thursday
afternoon, there is a free ice cream social for all members of the
Illuminati. If you are Illuminati, please go to the secret
underground bunker. There will be ice cream, streamers, and, of
course, a bocce ball tournament. If you are not
Illuminati, please disregard this notice. Maybe just stock up on some
bottled water and bullets, and hope for the best.
Friday night,
Dark Owl Records will host a 90s fashion night. Everyone is required
to non-ironically wear t-shirts and hats from the 1990s, which were
originally ironically worn t-shirts and hats from the 1970s. Owner
Michelle Nguyen asked that everyone be as sincere as they can be.
Irony will not be tolerated, only studied, museum-like, on puffy
truck hats with clever witticisms like “HEY,
BEER!” or “I LIKE HIGHWAY”
or “DOG,” along
with airbrushed pictures of rattlesnakes, eagles, hot glue guns, and
screen doors.
Nguyen asked that
I not invite the public to this event.
Oh.
Oooohhhhhhhhhh…I
should have read the whole press release before reading that.
And…I…just
received a…new press release from Dark Owl owner Michelle
Nguyen, announcing that the event has been canceled because people
know about it.
[Whispers]
Sorry, Michelle!
On Saturday,
StrexCorp – formerly a Desert Bluffs corporation and now a Night
Vale business, owned and operated by beings who are definitely not
angels – will be the headline sponsor of a new program called “Free
Opera Day,” a weekly community event where anyone can hear opera at
no cost. In fact, you don’t even have to go to the New Old Opera
House to hear it! Opera will be broadcast from the municipal
loudspeakers, which are located on every residential block in the
city, and within most residential homes.
On Sunday, the
Night Vale Opera will be running their most popular weekly program,
“Opera Free Day,” where citizens are relieved of all opera for 24
hours. No one is allowed to play any opera at all. Armed soldiers
from a private armed soldier corporation will walk the streets making
sure no one is playing any opera.
“What is
opera?” one armed soldier will ask the others.
“I don’t know,”
another will reply.
“Could that
be opera?” another will ask.
“Let’s go check
it out,” they’ll all say, lifting their rifles and approaching what
will appear to be an automated car wash.
Monday morning
doesn’t really matter. Nothing ever did. Be silent, and look upward
to the sky as if it had your answers. It does not. The sky is as dumb
as rocks. Really dumb. You’ll figure that out early Monday
morning, as you passively choose to experience the day in spite of
its pointlessness, mumbling, “naught else remains to do,” while
brushing your teeth.
And now a word
from our sponsor.
Today’s show is
sponsored by…well, it’s sponsored by…your mom.
She’s really
nice, and she mailed us a ten dollar bill to sponsor this show.
That’s well below our usual advertising rate here at the station, but
your mom was just the sweetest!
She also wrote a
letter saying that she hopes you’re having a fun time listening to
the show, she knows it’s your favorite radio program (aww!),
and wants you to know that she loves you very much (awwwwww!).
Your mom also
wants to know if you’re still seeing that boy. He’s bad news,
and she doesn’t like his tattoos. Not that people with tattoos are
bad, that’s not what she’s saying, but…
“What do you
think his skin will look like when he’s 60?” she added. “What do
you think anyone’s skin will look like when they’re 60?” she
said repeatedly.
She asked several
quiet sad questions about the process of aging. Then she said she
cares for you no matter what. She just wants you to be happy.
This message has
been brought to you by your mom.
Good news,
listeners! I’ve just learned that the stranger standing in our lobby
has finally moved. Unfortunately, the stranger has begun walking
slowly toward Lance. The stranger raised one arm, imperceptibly at
first, but by the time the hand was nearly brushing Lance’s neck,
Lance realized it and leapt out of the way.
Lance is
currently standing behind his rolling chair, watching closely for the
stranger’s next move, even though the stranger is moving so slowly as
to appear motionless.
It’s like the old
adage about the frog and the frying pan? I mean, they say if you put
a frog in a frying pan and then turn up the heat very gradually, then
you’re a sociopath who takes pleasure in the torture of innocent
animals. Go easy on the frogs, OK? They’re adorable, and ecologically
important, but also easy to trick into dying.
[Sound of a
distant scream]
[*Gasp*]
Oh my goodness! Lance!
Listeners, I must
check on my colleague, uh, but first, I must take you to the weather.
[“Meet
You at the Gate” by Jayne
Trimble]
Listeners, we
found Lance.
He was curled
into a dark corner of the storage closet, his eyes dull, his jaw
slack, his gray maw unnaturally long.
The stranger who
had stood so quietly, so nearly still in the lobby before, is now
nowhere to be seen. Likely, they are still in this very building,
ready to show themselves again at any moment.
I bent down, and
took Lance’s hand. He was always a good receptionist.
Well…he wasn’t
that great. I mean, there’s no national receptionist ranking
system, how am I supposed to know? I’ve never done it myself. Uh, he
could have been a receptionist savant, for all I know about the
field.
But Lance was a
good man. He loved movies. He always dreamed of moving to Hollywood
and becoming a makeup artist for major motion pictures. He loved
doing makeup. But it was a dream deferred as he could never figure
out where Hollywood was, or how you were supposed to get there. Most
airlines and bus drivers would stare blankly at him when he tried to
buy a ticket. It’s not on any map I’ve ever seen. It’s possible Lance
just invented it to take his mind off the tedium of daily life.
Either way, his
makeup skills came in handy, as he did himself up just like that poor
girl in the closet from his favorite documentary, The Ring. Plaid
skirt and white shirt, long hair, and a grotesque corpse face. He
really nailed it!
I told him good
job, he climbed out of the storage room and said thanks. I told him
one day, someone will find out where Hollywood is, and he’ll go there
and be a super-famous makeup artist.
He didn’t say
anything. We stood in silence for several minutes.
Oh, I’m taking a
continuing education class at the community college about the art of
conversation. They said every good conversationalist should try to
find five to seven straight minutes of no speaking, in order to let
others talk. Lance is taking that same class, so we both gave
the other person room to speak for those long silent minutes.
Finally, our
intern Kate entered and told us her roommate called to say there’s a
stranger standing just outside their apartment door. The stranger
isn’t moving, or speaking, and won’t leave.
Kate said she
needed to take off early to deal with this. She said this several
times, each iteration slightly louder, slightly more strained.
Have a great rest
of your day, Kate!
Oh, Lance has
returned to his work, feeling better. I asked him to check for missed
calls, as the light for the voicemail was rapidly blinking to
indicate it was full. We apparently received dozens of calls
from Night Vale residents reporting strangers – standing, silent,
and unmoving – in their homes, or sitting in the back seats of
their cars. A few residents were in their beds in the middle of the
night when they turned and found a stranger there, lying beside them,
empty eyes staring at nothing. Not moving.
Listeners, maybe
take a moment to check outside your front door. Check for a silent
strange face in your window, or just around the corner at the end of
a hallway. Perhaps take an agonizing look into your shower. Just in
case. Make sure there is no one there.
If there is,
well, be patient. They move pretty slowly, it turns out.
You know what?
Maybe hide until the stranger leaves. It’ll be fine…but maybe hide.
Or run away. Maybe just huddle down, close your eyes, and hope one
isn’t near you right now.
Stay tuned next
for the sound of human breathing. Which is probably just your own
breathing…probably.
As always,
goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.
Today’s proverb:
I’m a single issue voter. If the candidate is not a baby polar bear,
I straight up cannot support them.
Episode 78 - Cooking Stuff: Thanksgiving Special
Cook a feast no family could fully
eat, recite prayers no family could fully believe, and acknowledge a
frightful history no family could fully comprehend.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Cecil: We have a treat for you
today, Night Vale: a Thanksgiving edition of Cooking Stuff with Earl
Harlan. Our guest, of course, is Earl Harlan, sous chef at Night
Vale’s most celebrated restaurant, Tourniquet. Thanks for being here,
Earl!
Earl: Thanks for having me on,
Cecil.
Cecil: Earl’s going to be
talking us through preparing and cooking a basic Thanksgiving meal. I
know a lot of you out there have your ancient family recipes, still
on their original cave walls, but Earl might have some new techniques
to help you spice up those old dishes, and there are a lot of people
– like Carlos and me – who have never cooked (or even seen)
a Thanksgiving turkey. It’s intimidating!
Where do we
begin, Earl?
Earl:
Well, it doesn’t have to be intimidating. On today’s show I’ll walk
you through the five easy steps for the perfect Thanksgiving turkey –
kill, clean, gut, stuff, and cook – also some essential dishes like
mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce.
Cecil:
That sounds great, Earl! But, before we get started, let’s get a news
update about the trial of Hiram McDaniels.
Things are coming
along in Night Vale’s trial of the century. Judge Siobhan Azdaq has
been assigned this case. Siobhan is not actually a judge, she’s the
theater writer for the Night Vale Daily Journal. But, given that
Night Vale has never had a trial, we just didn’t have many judges
around.
Since Siobhan has
such a nuanced understanding of contemporary stage craft, but with an
acerbic and unforgiving critical voice, she seemed a pretty good fit
for deciding the fates of likely criminals – which is who she’d be
dealing with. I mean, what innocent person gets arrested and brought
to trial? Ha! No innocent person I’ve ever heard of! Ha-ha!
[Cecil clears his throat]
Hiram McDaniels,
a literal five-headed dragon, has been charged with the attempted
murder of current mayor Dana Cardinal, as well as conspiracy,
assault, and willful destruction of private property.
The
trail will be held just as soon as they can find a jury of Hiram’s
peers. So far, they have found a salamander. But it’s tiny. And
cannot speak human languages. Let alone hold still long enough to
listen to the lawyers discuss jury selections. Also, it’s an
amphibian, not a
reptile, so…that’s pretty insensitive.
They
did find another
five-headed dragon available to serve on a jury, but it turns out she
is Hiram’s sister, Hadassah, and she was none too happy to be called
in for jury duty, let alone at her brother’s trial.
The
prosecuting attorney, Troy Walsh, has been toying around with the
idea of just…dressing people up like dragons, so that Hiram feels
like he’s getting a fair trial. This seems the most equitable thing
to do, since everyone knows that justice is less about what the law
says, and more about
how everyone feels
about it.
More on the trial
of the century as events develop.
Now, let’s get
right back to Cooking Stuff with Earl Harlan.
Earl:
Thanks, Cecil! So, let’s cook a turkey!
First step: find
a turkey and kill it.
Cecil:Yum!
Earl:
I shot mine, but you could use a knife, a bow and arrow, a heavy
wrench, your teeth…whatever’s easiest for you.
The next step is
to clean your bird. Pluck all of the feathers from its lifeless
corpse. Cut off its head, and all six of its hooves.
Now, adventurist
culinary experts out there could pickle those hooves and serve them
with ice cream for a traditional Svitzish dessert.
Next, gut the
turkey, and don’t be intimidated by the stench. Just stick your knife
deep into its belly and allow everything to pour out onto the floor.
You won’t need any of that mess.
Cecil:
Well, my mother used to actually cook turkey organs for us. She said
they were called giblets.
Earl:
Oh, your mother lied to you, Cecil.
Cecil:
Then what was she feeding us?
Earl:
Let’s stuff this turkey! What do you say?
Cecil: Okay!
Earl:
I used to make my stuffing from stale bread, but since wheat &
wheat by-products can turn into snakes and kill you, I just take old
newspapers, wad them up, and shove them into the turkey. They absorb
most of the bird’s toxic fluids, so…same result, really.
After the
stuffing, throw in some seasoning like salt and pepper, thyme, sage,
a fistful of grass…anything you find lying around. Just put it in a
pile on top of the turkey, and slide it into the oven.
While you’re
waiting for it to cook, maybe catch a football game on television. I
plan on watching some games this year with my son Roger. Last
Thanksgiving we watched football together, but at the time I had just
come into awareness of myself as an adult, and suddenly had this son
that I didn’t know at all, so I didn’t know his name. It was awkward.
Plus, neither of
us had heard of football, let alone its byzantine laws and
restrictions on dancing.
We both sat
silently, waiting for it to be over, wanting to speak to each other,
unable to find the words.
Cecil:
Not talking can be a blessing, Earl! Well, Thanksgiving football
games are my favorite, because my brother-in-law doesn’t talk to me
for hours.
Carlos likes
watching the big parade, but I don’t deal well with gore so I cover
my eyes and have him describe to me how they all die.
Earl: I’m
trying to build family traditions with Roger. Trying to build
anything with Roger.
Cecil:
Fun. And, hey! I remembered to rent an oven for your appearance this
time, Earl!
Now, you already
prepared our turkey before the broadcast today. It’s cooking right
now, low and slow at 675º. I can’t wait to taste it!
But first, a
public service announcement:
The
Night Vale Parks Department would like to remind you that bears are
dangerous animals, and you should stay away from them.
Conversely, bears
are also adorable! So it’s hard to want to stay too far away.
The
Night Vale Parks Department understands bears look like they want
hugs, and maybe they do
want hugs! Maybe a hug would be just the thing to calm down their
aggressive side. Who knows? In fact, the rangers over at the Parks
Department are split right down the middle as to whether bears are
dangerous or cute.
According to the
new Parks Department brochure on wilderness safety, “It’s tough to
say. I don’t know, try hugging a bear, see what happens!”
Earl:
What a weird brochure. Bears are dangerous animals, Cecil. No one
should ever hug…
Cecil:
Let’s not argue, Earl!
This has been a
public service announcement created by the Night Vale Parks
Department, and paid for by a bunch of bears that pooled their money
and bought some air time.
Let’s talk now
about the ultimate Thanksgiving side, mashed potatoes!
Earl:
Right. Mashed potatoes are a simple dish in concept, but they take
skill to master. A lot of people think they only need to mix
potatoes, stock, butter, and cream, but there’s so much more to it
than that!
Cecil:
Really? I’ve been using that standard recipe for years. It seems
fine.
Earl:
Oh, but Cecil, it could be so much better!
For instance, you could cook
those potatoes for about 45 to 60 minutes to really soften them up. A
raw potato is quite hard to mash, let alone chew.
Cecil:
Oh, I never thought about that!
Earl:
People also forget to take the butter out of its wax paper or foil
wrapping. You should definitely unwrap your butter before using it.
Also, make sure your cream is fresh. You don’t want to use any heavy
cream older than, say, six months.
Cecil:
Amazing! I would have never thought of any
of this!
Earl:
And listen, salt and pepper are fine for mashed potato seasoning, but
if you really want to step your dish up a notch, really
have your family clamoring about your kitchen skills, then let me
tell you my secret spice mix.
Cecil:
What is it, Earl?
Earl:
I used slightly more salt, and a little extra pepper. Just a tad.
Cecil:
Amazing!
Earl:
Then you just put it on a pot and mash it with your feet until it’s
warm enough to serve.
You know, I
recently made this dish for me and Roger.
Cecil:
Did he love it?
Earl:
I couldn’t tell. He ate it, and then said, “Thanks, um…”
And then I said,
“Dad?”
And he said,
“Okay.”
And he went to
bed.
Cecil:
Aw. How sweet.
Earl:
Lately I noticed he wakes up in the middle of the night and just
walks. I got up quietly and followed him one night. He walked out of
the house, and into the neighborhood. He walked down each street in
our subdivision, never backtracking or walking the same street twice.
He didn’t stop or look at anything. He just walked in the darkness.
Once a hooded
figure passed him, but neither of them acknowledged each other. The
hooded figure saw me for sure, but I think they also saw that I was
just a concerned father, and was not interested in spying on any of
their secretive activities. The hooded figure nodded and let me pass.
Cecil:
And Roger…came home after that?
Earl:
Yep. He walks each street, each night in a different pattern, and
then returns to bed.
Cecil:
Quite an adventurous kiddo you have there!
Let’s pause now
for a word from today’s sponsor. With that, here’s Deb, a sentient
patch of haze.
Deb:
Hello, human listeners. Today’s show is proudly sponsored by corn.
It’s almost Thanksgiving, after all, and you wouldn’t have
Thanksgiving without corn.
Thanksgiving is
America’s holiday. Corn is America’s crop. America’s life blood. You
can’t live without corn! If we didn’t have corn, we wouldn’t have
tortillas, or syrup, or soft drinks. Without corn, we wouldn’t have
dogs, or cars! We wouldn’t even have a moon. Everything is made of
corn!
Listen to your
heartbeat. “ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzph!” You hear that heartbeat of yours?
I’m a patch of haze, I don’t know what a heartbeat sounds like. But
this is what I imagine it sounds like. “ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzph!” That
sound in your chest is corn, my friend. All that corn, pumping
through your delicate mortal veins.
You didn’t choose
how ya got here. Neither did corn. You are both products of free
market and overpopulation.
Corn. Eat it.
This message is
brought to you by the Corn and Imaginary Corn Farmers of America.
Cecil:
Thanks, Deb!
Earl:
It’s really humid in here!
Cecil:
That’s Deb for you!
Well, speaking of
corn, that brings us to my favorite Thanksgiving dish, cranberry
sauce!
Earl:
A lot of people look down on canned cranberry sauce, but don’t be so
quick to judge! It’s inexpensive, easy to store, and – with the
right preparation – you can elevate this plain can of red gelatin
into the most talked-about dish on the table.
Cecil:
Great news! I have an entire cupboard full of canned cranberry sauce.
I’m looking forward to hearing what I’m supposed to do with it.
…Earl?
Earl:
I found Roger one evening in the cupboard. He was just sitting there.
He wasn’t hiding, or crying.
I asked him what
he was doing and he shrugged his shoulders. I asked if he was all
right, and he said, “Sure.”
Cecil:
Tell me, how is he doing in school?
Earl:
It’s been up and down. There’s no record of his birth, or his
existence prior to
last Fall. I don’t know of any birth mother, and he has no memories
prior to showing up at my house for the first time a little over a
year ago.
The
school has let him enroll and take classes despite his lack of
paperwork. He gets along with most kids okay…but some tease him.
They call him names like “Ghost Child” and “Zombie Kid”
because his skin is grayish and decaying, and he is
nearly transparent.
Cecil:
Ouch. Kids can be cruel.
Earl:
He’s really good in
class, though! He’s still in elementary school because he looks about
eight or nine, but his teacher Ms. Blackwell says he has adult-level
reading and math skills, so we’re trying to get him more advanced
material. He’s been reading Emmanuel Kant for a book report.
Cecil:
Roger’s such a bright kid. You’re a good father, Earl. You know that,
right?
Earl: I
have no idea what he’s thinking, Cecil. I try to talk to him but he
seems…distant? Bored? I don’t know.
Cecil:
He’s a child. It's– it’s difficult. I imagine. For what is
essentially an adopted child to–
Earl: He’s
not
adopted, though! He looks just like me, Cecil! See? Here’s a photo of
him, and here’s one of me when I was a child.
Cecil:
Oh, wow! You two are
identical! When was this photo taken of you? Is…is that a steam
locomotive in the back–
Earl:
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
FIRE!
Cecil:
Oh, my! Listeners, it appears our oven has caught fire.
[Cecil
coughs]
Earl:
Here! Here!
[Cecil coughs
several more times]
Cecil:
Where are
you?
[Cecil coughs
again]
Earl?
Oh, there’s so much smoke!
Listeners, while I find Earl, let me take you all
[Cecil coughs
yet again]
…to the weather.
[“Autumn’s
Echo” by Stripmall
Architecture]
Cecil:
Well, our turkey has finished cooking, and you’ve laid out a whole
Thanksgiving spread for us here, Earl. It looks delectable!
Earl:
Yeah, the turkey came out perfectly!
Once the oven catches fire, that’s when you know it’s time to take
out your bird and dig in.
Cecil:
Well, oh! Let me start by tasting the cranberry sauce.
Mmmmmmm!
Oh, that’s so
good!
It’s got that perfect balance of tart and sugary sweetness I like,
plus the crunch of the frozen corn mixed in just gives this gooey
dish a delightfully complex texture.
Earl:
I also recommend mixing in a handful of bay leaves at the end.
Cecil:
Yum!
And now let’s try these Earl Harlan special mashed potatoes.
Mmmmmm! So buttery and warm! Like the skin on the bottom of a human
foot.
Earl:
And don’t forget my secret spice mix!
Cecil:
Oh-ho! I’ve already forgotten.
Let’s move on to the crown jewel of Thanksgiving dinner, the turkey.
Tell us about this masterpiece, Earl.
Earl:
Turkey is easier than you think, listeners. Don’t be intimidated! I
shot this bird, drained its blood, tore all of its feathers off,
removed its organs, and cut off its head and feet. Then, I stuffed
things into its dead body, and put it in an oven.
Cecil:
Let’s give it a taste.
[Cecil chews]
Mmmmm!
[Cecil chews]
So…
[Cecil chews]
Oh…okay…
Huh.
Earl:
That’s so nice of you to say, Cecil!
This
show has meant a lot to me today. I’ve been having a tough…well, a
complicated
year. And cooking, cooking has brought me so much joy…well,
distraction.
It’s a real pleasure getting to spend time with you and your
listeners.
Cecil:
Earl? Come over to our place for Thanksgiving.
Earl:
I…
No.
Cecil:
Yes! Please! Carlos and I would love to have you and Roger…
Earl:
Who?
Cecil:
Your son?
Earl:
Right.
Right!
Cecil:
We’d love to have you two over. My sister and her husband are coming,
plus my niece Janice will be there, so that would be someone Roger
could talk to and play with!
Earl:
I don’t want to intrude. Can you even fit that many people?
Cecil:
Oh, of course! Plus, Carlos and I will do the cooking. No working for
you this holiday!
Earl:
Cecil, I don’t know what to say!
Cecil:
Well, actually we might need a hand with the cranberry sauce. I have
over 20 cans of the stuff I need to prepare.
But, other than that, you and Roger just sit back and try to
understand the point of football. Maybe even have Carlos describe the
torture scenes from the parade to you both? Eek!
Oh! Keep Steve occupied and out of the kitchen while I’m cooking!
Earl:
Thank you, Cecil.
Cecil:
You’re welcome.
Ah!
I can’t wait to try out all these new recipes. I’m gonna go out and
assassinate a turkey right after the broadcast today, I’m that
excited!
Listeners, thanks again for tuning in and thanks to Earl Harlan of
the restaurant Tourniquet for these helpful cooking tips!
Stay tuned next for a nearly-exact repeat of this same show, but with
the addition of one extra word that changes the meaning of
everything.
And as always, goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.
Today’s
proverb: If a car flashes its brights at you, it’s probably a gang.
And if you flash your brights back, the gang gives you cake. It’s a
cake gang.