2.10 – Glow Cloud

Alert! The Sheriff’s Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Hiram McDaniels, who escaped custody last night following a 9 PM arrest. McDaniels is described as a five-headed dragon, approximately 18 feet tall, with mostly green eyes, and weighing about thirty-six hundred pounds. He is suspected of insurance fraud.

McDaniels was pulled over for speeding last night, and the secret police became suspicious when he allegedly gave the officers a fake driver’s license for a 5’8′ man named Frank Chen. After discerning that “Frank Chen” was actually a five-headed dragon from somewhere other than our little world, the secret police searched McDaniels’ vehicle.

Representatives from local civil rights organizations have protested that officers had no legal grounds to search the vehicle, but they ceded the point when reminded by Secret Police officials that our backwards court system will uphold any old authoritarian rule made up on the fly by unsupervised gun-carrying thugs of a shadow government.

The secret police say McDaniels escaped custody by breathing fire from his purple head, and he was last seen flying and shrieking over Red Mesa. Secret police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Hiram McDaniels. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, as he is literally a five-headed dragon. Contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police if you have any information. Ask for Officer Ben. Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their Alert Citizen Card. Collect five stamps, and you get stop sign immunity for one year.

4.3 – PTA Meeting

It’s election season again, and you know what that means. Sheriff’s Secret Police will be coming by to collect certain family members so that everyone votes for the correct Council seats, and there’s no confusion. These family members will be held in a secure and undisclosed location, which everyone knows is the abandoned mine shaft outside of town.

But don’t let the name fool you, listeners. It’s been used for years for so many kidnappings and illegal detentions that the abandoned mine shaft outside of town is actually a pretty nice location these days, featuring king-size beds, free wi-fi, and HBO. Also, torture cubicles, but I don’t think anyone’s going to make the Council use those. Remember, this is America! Vote correctly, or never see your loved ones again. This message brought to you by the City Council.

6.13 – The Drawbridge

Apparently, the Sheriff’s Secret Police agree with me about old Steve Carlsberg, dear listeners. We just received a report from a reliable witness that two days ago, Steve was whisked into the back of a windowless van, only to reappear earlier this morning wearing thick head bandages, and eating styrofoam shaped like an ice cream cone.

I want to take this moment to thank all of you out there for all of the generous donations you may or may not be aware that you just made. During this show, we have raised just a hair over $45,000, which includes a $45,000 donation from a certain anonymous world leader. I can’t tell you who. Let’s just say: muchos gracias, El Presidente! Mano dura, cabeza, y corazón. [This was a campaign slogan used by Otto Pérez Molina, President of Guatemala; it means “Firm hand, head and heart.”]

Thank you again for your involuntary support of community radio. We couldn’t do it without the support of listeners like you, in conjunction with unethical contributions from nefarious organizations. And with that, I leave you alone with your thoughts, folks. Stay tuned next for Zydeco Note By Note, a special two-hour verbal description of what zydeco music sounds like. Buenos noches, Night Vale. Good night.

9.2 – “PYRAMID”

The Sheriff’s Secret Police are asking the public’s help in catching a dangerous fugitive on the loose in the greater Night Vale area. They say he is armed, and should be approached with extreme caution. For everyone’s protection, they’re keeping the name and description of the fugitive secret, but indicate that all strangers should be mistrusted and avoided, as well as friends and loved ones— because how well do you know those people, anyway? Are you aware of their location every second of every day? Who among us does not have secrets?

The fugitive is wanted dead or alive, and vigilante justice is, as always, highly encouraged.

9.3 – “PYRAMID”

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.

9.12 – “PYRAMID”

Well, listeners, it seems the pyramid has disappeared as mysteriously and suddenly as it arrived. Too late, I’m afraid, for the Flaky-Os board of directors, who have all been taken to the abandoned mine shaft outside of town for processing by the City Council.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police are declaring victory in their stand-off against the pyramid because they say it’s about time they won something.

Meanwhile, the pyramid has left behind a much tinier pyramid. A mere souvenir of its looming, inscrutable mass. This tiny pyramid is broadcasting one final message, a farewell from the geometric shape that stole our hearts. So, let us wrap up our show today with its words.

Somewhere there is a map, and on that map is Earth, and attached to Earth is an arrow that says your name and lists your lifespan. Some of you die standing. Others sitting. Many of you die in cars. I can never die. It is difficult for me to understand the concept that I am attempting to convey. I cannot show you this vision, but you may imagine it. Step forward and tell someone of it, please.

You heard it here, folks. Tell people. Tell people about Flaky-Os’ new line of cereals for nighttime only. Do it in memory of its board of directors.

Stay tuned now for an hour of dead air, with the occasional hiss and crackle. Speaking of the nighttime, I truly hope you have a good one, Night Vale. Good night.

10.12 – Feral Dogs

Ladies and gentlemen, good news. Mayor Pamela Winchell called a press conference moments ago, declaring an end to our dog pack terror. The mayor announced that the dogs were not actually dogs. Just some plastic bags caught in the breeze that people mistook for wild dogs.

“There are no wild dogs in Night Vale,” she said, “and if there were, they’d be sweet little dogs with big, meaningless eyes and tongues like flypaper.” The plastic bags, meanwhile, have been safely returned to the dog park from whence they came, and which is to remain unknowable and unremembered.

Journalists asked about the injuries and aftermath of this morning’s dog-pack-related crimes and injuries. The mayor responded with a hollow stare. She promptly shook the podium off its base and whispered through gritted teeth, “Plastic bags. Plastic. Bags.” The Sheriff’s Secret Police then ethically kettled the pool of reporters, gently coercing them with pepper spray. Most were taken away peacefully in handcuffs and black hoods.

Thank goodness it was all a misunderstanding. Dear listeners, I don’t want to say I told you so… but wasn’t I right when I said we were a determined, resilient little town? In the face of wild beasts, we did not crumble. We did not back down. We stood eye to eye with violence and it blinked first.

Stand proud, Night Vale! Be afraid on the inside, of course. You are, after all, your own downfall. But stand proud against those predators that would harm your family.

And that is our show. Thank you for listening, listeners. Stay tuned next for the popular advice program “Dr. Brandon.” This week, Dr. Brandon offers a step-by-step on how to remove your own appendix without surgery.

The sky tonight is a soft, quivering green. The wind is calm, but prepared. Get your sleep, Night Vale, and don’t forget to dream. Good night.

12.6 – The Candidate

Thursday night, the City Council is voting on a new measure that would prohibit breathing as an involuntary muscular action.  Historically, the human body has been able to control breathing without the brain needing to consciously activate the diaphragm.

Under the new rule, all residents of Night Vale would be required to make the physical choice of whether or not, and when, to breathe.  The City Council said that we have too long taken the receipt of oxygen for granted, and that the sense of entitlement must cease.  If the vote passes, residents will have until March first of next year to learn to control these involuntary muscle groups during lucid sleep.

Detractors say that it is our constitutional right to breathe how we want, and that it is not the government’s job to legislate breathing.  The Council responded by waving a brick in the air at reporters and shouting “We learned to beat our own hearts!  We taught ourselves to wet our own corneas!  We have pulled ourselves up from nothing!  It is the American dream.”  Then, they took a deep breath all together, lowered the brick, broke it into pieces, and devoured it.

14.10 – The Man In The Tan Jacket

This just in: the Sheriff’s Secret Police has just issued an important request related to our earlier story. They ask that all Night Vale citizens be on the lookout for a man in a tan jacket, carrying a deerskin suitcase. He is about five or six foot something, probably with hair, and normal human features.

He was last seen early this morning on the unlit, gravel-paved stretch of Oak Trail, near Larry Leroy’s house, out on the edge of town. The Man in the Tan Jacket was reportedly seen in the moonless black, standing next to a refrigerator engulfed in flames. He was smoking a cigarette. Witnesses claimed he stared at them as they slowly drove by on the darkened country road, but despite the prolonged eye contact, the witnesses still could not describe his face to police.

Two days prior, the Man in the Tan Jacket was seen standing in a park. No one can remember which park, but they were fairly certain it was a park. Or, maybe, it was in the Old Navy outlet store or near the invisible clock tower, it wasn’t quite clear. Either way, the man was definitely standing with his deerskin suitcase, and staring up at the sun for hours. He followed the bizarre glowing orb, which is somehow the source of all light and life, and– “OH GOD, the sun, are you kidding us with this thing? We don’t even have time for that mystery!” the Secret Police then interjected. Secret Police officials added that if you see a man in a tan jacket carrying a deerskin suitcase, write down what you see immediately.

The City Council has temporarily lifted their ban on pens and pencils, so that citizens can help law enforcement on this matter. Once you write down your encounter, call 911 immediately, or simply say, “Hey, police!” out loud. We’re all being monitored almost 24/7, so they’ll probably hear you just fine.

15.8 – Street Cleaning Day

From time to time, listeners, I like to bring a little education to our show. Throw out some interesting facts or mind fuel. Today I’d like to share some fascinating facts about clouds. Clouds are made up of [BEEP]. Rain clouds are formed when [BEEP] air. When the density of the humid air, a.k.a. the cloud, becomes [BEEP], that’s when it rains. Lightning is [BEEP]. And it’s important to [BEEP] can kill you, or at least cause you a great deal of body-altering pain and regret. But take some time to stop and look at the clouds. They are beautiful, wondrous creations!

Wait. I’ve just been handed a piece of red paper by one of the Sheriff’s Secret Police officers.

[whispering] I can tell that’s what he was because of his short cape, blow dart chest belt, and tight leather balaclava.

Dear listeners, I’ve been told to inform you that you are to stop looking at the clouds immediately. Stop knowing about the clouds. Intern Stacy tells me in my headset here that they’ve also been censoring my broadcast. Well, I back our public protectors, and if they say to stop knowing about whatever it was was talking about, then I’ll stop knowing about it. Let’s go now to the sounds of predatory birds.

[cawing, screeching, hooting]