12.2 – The Candidate

First, the news. Old Town Night Vale residents are complaining about extremely noisy sunsets. Several agitated citizens are pushing for the City Council to do something about the solar shrieking every evening for the past few weeks. One homeowner described the sound as ‘the parched cries of sad buzzards or perhaps even the unholy voice of Old Scratch himself’.

The City Council, speaking in unison at a televised press conference, said that the noise is just the windmill farms that litter the unfortunate wastelands of Desert Bluffs, and that the noises do not fall under Night Vale jurisdiction. Walton Kincaid, president of the community group Soundproof Old Town, said that the windmills can’t possibly be the source of the noise, as they are non-existent and also don’t work, because of Desert Bluffs’ staggering incompetence. The City Council called a second press conference, wherein they all wordlessly stared down Kincaid for fourteen uninterrupted minutes. Their dark eyes tore holes straight through the community spokesman, metaphorically speaking, until his soul was compacted into what looked like a partially chewed black-eyed pea. Literally.

To date, only Old Town residents have reported hearing these inconceivable noises every evening as the sun crosses the indifferent horizon. And the noises seem to be taking their toll. There have been two heart attacks, twelve cases of significant muscular atrophy, and at least two dozen claims of folks growing third eyes, including Kincaid himself, who had an arachnid-like eight eyes when he spoke before City Council yesterday morning. No other neighborhood can hear the sounds.

I spoke to Simone Rigadeau in the Earth Sciences building at Night Vale Community College about the scientifically fascinating story, and she called it a simple case of celestial ‘just desserts’. Full disclosure, listeners: Rigadeau does not work in Earth Sciences. She is a transient living in the recycling closet of the Earth Sciences building, and she collects cans as pets. There is another hearing scheduled at 4 a.m. tomorrow, on the highest ledge overlooking Skeleton Gorge, which can only be accessed by government helicopters. All previous endeavors to scale the cliffside by rock-climbing enthusiasts have failed in extravagantly gory fashion. The Council issued a statement wishing Kincaid luck in attending this mandatory meeting.

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12.5 – The Candidate

An interesting note on Hiram McDaniels: intern Stacy tells me that she’s been googling the roguish dragon. Did you know that he has a blog? He’s a really smart fellow! Some really groundbreaking ideas. Here’s one post from last week:

‘If I were mayor of Night Vale, I would give incentives for small business development, and focus on youth physical fitness programs. Human youth are the human future, after all.’

Well, it seems a certain multi-headed fugitive wants to become mayor of Night Vale. You have my vote, Hiram.

12.8 – The Candidate

Dear listeners, right after we reported on Hiram McDaniels’ interest in becoming mayor, the dirty campaign tactics came into play, stirring up bad feelings, and slinging the old municipal mud. Incumbent mayor Pamela Winchell issued a statement citing township bylaws that prohibit prisoners from running for public office.

Now, isn’t it just like a career politician, such as Mayor Winchell, to make such unethical, ad hominem attacks on a great reptilian beast, simply because he is in jail?  It sounds to me like the mayor is feeling McDaniels breathing down her neck!  Breathing dragon fire, that is. Give ‘em hell, Hiram!

12.11 – The Candidate

During the break, I received a message from Mayor Winchell’s office responding to our previous reports. According to the mayor, mayoral elections aren’t for another three years, and Hiram McDaniels is ineligible to run, not only because of his jail stay, but also because he is neither a Night Vale resident, nor a human being. There is, she says, no precedent for a five-headed dragon as elected official.

Mayor Winchell also pointed out that writing the throwaway phrase ‘If I were mayor of Night Vale’ on a blog is not an official declaration of candidacy. “There is paperwork!” Mayor Winchell shouted into my voicemail. “You can’t just… argh!” she continued, trailing off slightly at the end. What followed was about ninety-five seconds of loud stomping, and what sounded like wood chopping in the distance, before the message finally ended.

Allow me a retort, dear listeners, with this brief editorial: With all due respect, Madame Mayor, have we not had enough dragon-bashing? Our great country once held to some terrible old customs, but we grew up. We learned. We abolished slavery. Women won the right to vote. Ghosts can now marry, but of course, not have children. I mean, that would be a real slippery slope. And our own little burg is on the verge of becoming the first city in this great nation to legalize time travel.

So let’s loosen our collars. Let’s march into the reptilian future, not cling to the narrow past. Just because a dragon is a dragon, and has five heads, doesn’t mean he can’t lead our community. Sure, critics will say, ‘Oh, but Cecil! What if his five heads don’t agree on something? What if one’s like, Yeah, let’s build this school! But another’s like, No more schools. And the others are drunk or sleepy or something? How can we agree to elect five heads that can’t agree with themselves?’

To this, I say shame on you for your negative stereotypes of multi-headed beings. Free your mind! The rest, as our official town song says, will follow. The song also says, “Lap deeply of the scarlet mud, after the bloodrains of the apocalypse,” but I don’t think that quite applies here. So with this, I am proud to offer my endorsement of Hiram McDaniels for Mayor of Night Vale. Sure, the election isn’t for three years, but it’s never too early to effect change. And in that time, we will rally. We will petition to get what we want. And soon, a great leader will rise. Lead us to that future, Hiram!