The Night Vale Daily Journal today announced that, due to the recent economic downturn, they will start running ads on the front page. Any business interested in running one of these platinum premium ads should contact editor Leann Hart. Hart mentioned that they have also created a “write your own news story” program for interested citizens. Because every writer has been laid off, the Daily Journal now needs these community contributions to supply Night Vale with important news and features.
The first platinum premium ad runs next Monday, and features the terrified face of an infant primate with a superimposed spoon that has been stone-sharpened to a rough point, and the tagline “Better Use Tide!”
Hart also said that last year’s explosion that decimated the Daily Journal’s distribution plant is still “totally an accident,” and would like her insurance rep to call her back. Please, call her back.
New billboards have appeared all over town, bearing the image of a turkey sandwich and the single word HARLOT in large block letters. These billboards have caused some confusion, both due to their ambiguous message and to the fact that the entire structure of the billboards materialized overnight in places billboards are not usually constructed, such as the living rooms of local homes, the middle of busy thoroughfares— causing multiple car accidents— and, in one case, directly through a living dog, who has not appeared harmed by the addition to his body, and has carried the entire billboard around town while going about his usual canine business.
The Department of Health & Human Services recently claimed responsibility for the billboards, saying that they were part of a campaign to promote nutrition and healthy living among children. The original draft of the release also mentioned something about an offering to a long-dead god, but this was altered to “fun, active lifestyles are important for kids of all ages” in a subsequent addendum.
Our top story today: a large pyramid has appeared in the center of the Beatrix Lohman Memorial Meditation Zone, destroying over half of the zone’s state-of-the-art meditation equipment and paraphernalia.
Experts have been contacted as to what could cause sudden pyramid existence. However, as it turns out, there are no experts in pyramid materialization. And the town’s other experts offered up merely shrugs, followed by panicked conjectures, and finally screams and moans, all of which fell uselessly upon the City Council’s merciless ears.
The pyramid has been described as a kind of triangle shape, only three-dimensional. It has made no movement, despite repeated taserings by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. Many suspect that this may be a publicity stunt pulled by our own local cereal company, Flaky-Os, who are launching their new line of nighttime-only cereals next month. An angry mob has formed outside the cereal factory, just in case.
An update on the pyramid reported on earlier. Word is in that the pyramid has spoken. It is broadcasting, on low-wave frequencies, a repeated message. The message is the following.
I will place within some of you questions. Within others I will place answers. These questions and these answers will not always align. The questions I provide may have no answers, and the answers I provide may have no questions. I will study the effects of these questions and these answers. Some of you will hurt others, and others will heal. Grow my seeds inside you, and let them flower.
The Flaky-Os marketing department must be complimented for the best use of viral marketing in Night Vale since Stan’s Pawn Shop released a virulent strain of ebola back in ’98. And, as a communicator by trade, I applaud their ingenuity.
The Sheriff’s Secret Police has responded with surface-to-surface missiles, which, they say, will “silence the dark heart of the beast.” So far, they have not so much as created a smudge on the pyramid’s broad, shiny surface.
Today’s program is brought to you by Audible.com, your online source for recorded books. There are thousands of great titles at Audible.com that you can download to your computer or portable device, and listen to on the go. I use Audible to catch up on best-selling titles like The Help and Van Gogh Notes For Technical Communication 11\E.
I’m on their website right now, and I’m typing in a search for “dog park,” because I was thinking about this town’s beautiful new fixture, and how I will never, ever take my dog there. Let’s see what Audible comes up with.
Huh. It’s a flashing black-and-red screen that says THOUGHT CRIME in all caps. And below that, a little animation of two digging workers. “Under Construction”— that’s adorable!
So, check out Audible.com. New Audible members can get one free audiobook just by smudging their computer monitors with baby’s blood and humming the Spanish translation of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
Audible.com: You Can’t Burn What You Can’t Even Touch.
Update on the pyramid situation. Flaky-Os’ board of directors are vigorously denying— some of them at gunpoint— that they had any part in the pyramid that is stubbornly continuing to exist in our town. They are sneaky ones. I hope the new line of cereal turns out to be worth the hype. Meanwhile, the pyramid itself has altered its broadcast, sending out a second message, which is as follows:
Everything you do matters except your life. Death will be the last action you’ll undertake. I do not live, but I exist. What is my purpose? I will not tell you. One day you will discover your purpose, and then you will tell no one. And then you will die.
Now, I’m not too good at this viral marketing thing, so I can’t see all the codes and hidden web addresses that I’m sure are all through that message. I’ll leave that to all the dedicated amateurs out there in the listening world.
The Sheriff’s Secret Police are now attempting to charge the pyramid with resisting arrest, on the grounds that they couldn’t figure out how to arrest it. More as the story develops.
You come home. The lights are off. You get an uneasy feeling. Suddenly, the phone rings. You remember that you do not have a phone. It rings some more. You do not know what to do. Then you remember that, yes, you do own a phone. Why wouldn’t you own a phone? Everyone owns a phone. The phone is still ringing. Hahahaha! How silly to think you didn’t own a phone! It rings again. You smile, and shrug, and answer the ringing phone. It is still dark. “Hello?” you say.
“They are waiting for you,” a whispery gender-indeterminate voice tells you. “It is your time,” it says.
You turn on the light. You laugh again, wondering why it took you so long to turn on the light. Gosh, it was dark, you think. “Hello?” the voice asks. You hang up, glad you remembered to buy Tropicana orange juice, at least.
Tropicana premium orange juice is made from the freshest oranges, with no added flavors or preservatives. Also, you should get caller ID. It’s the 21st century. How do you not have caller ID? Really.
Got a home improvement project? Need help? Incomplete? Having feelings? Strange feelings? Feelings you’ve never felt? Incomplete? Is your body filled with hot blood, waving curves of sinew, and skin? Can you feel all that blood? Is it even your blood? How can you be sure? Incomplete? Are you dizzy from it all, all of this? What are your hands doing? Incomplete? Where are your hands now? Where have they been? Where are they going? Where are you going?
Have you ever broken the surface of something with a hammer? Ever channeled sublime thought into sandpaper? Ever wanted to touch something because you feel things, because touch is the only sense you trust? Incomplete? What is trust? Is making a thing proof that you exist? Is fixing a thing proof that you have transcended mortality? History? Incomplete. Feel things? Feel things?