1.11 – Pilot

A great howling was heard from the Night Vale Post Office yesterday. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passers-by described the sound as being a little like “a human soul being destroyed through black magic.”

The Indian Tracker [sic]– now, I don’t know if you’ve seen this guy around– he’s the one that appears to be of maybe, Slavic origin? yet wears an Indian headdress out of some racist cartoon and claims to be able to read tracks on asphalt.

He appeared on the scene, and swore that he would discover the truth. No one responded because it’s really hard to take him seriously in that headdress of his.

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2.4 – Glow Cloud

The Apache Tracker– and I remind you that this is that white guy who wears the huge and cartoonishly inaccurate Indian headdress– has announced that he has found some disturbing evidence concerning the recent incident at the Night Vale Post Office, which has been sealed by the City Council since the great screaming that was heard from it a few weeks ago.

He said that, using “ancient Indian magics,” he slipped through Council security, into the Post Office, and observed that all the letters and packages had been thrown about as in a whirlwind… that there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh… that the words written in blood on the walls said “MORE TO COME” and “SOON.”

Can you believe this guy said he used “Indian magics”? What an asshole.

7.4 – History Week

It has been several weeks since anyone in Night Vale has seen the Apache Tracker, that white guy who wears the inaccurate and horribly offensive Indian headdress everywhere. He has not been seen since he began investigating the great screaming heard at the Post Office, and the words written in blood inside. Also, the entire structure of his house has vanished, and the lot where it stood is now a bucolic meadow that neighborhood kids will not ever enter, for reasons even they are unable to explain.

I think I speak for everyone in the community when I say, good riddance to that local embarrassment. He made the whole town look ignorant and racist.

11.3 – Wheat & Wheat By-Products

New information on the Apache Tracker, who you might remember as that white guy who wears the cartoonishly inaccurate and offensive Indian headdress, and who disappeared some weeks ago after investigating the strange occurrences at the Night Vale Post Office. Well, word is in that he has reappeared, except it now seems he is actually Native American.

Witnesses say his features are still recognizable but during the disappearance he has transformed into that which he always absurdly claimed to be.

More explanation, of course, is needed, but the Apache Tracker is also now only able to speak Russian, and I did not bother to get his statement translated. Apparently he has been taking to leaning on the hood of an old Honda Accord in the parking lot of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, shaking his head slowly and checking his watch.

Does his complete racial transformation make his previous actions less offensive, listeners? Write us a letter telling us what you think, and then put it away in a drawer for ten years. Reading it again, you’ll get a little pang of nostalgia for the person you used to be, once upon a time.

17.11 – Valentine

In other news, several alert citizens have reported that the Night Vale Post Office, closed since the strange and probably supernatural attack that it suffered several months ago, now appears to be open for business once again. This is good news for all of us, as we as a city have been unable to send or receive letters and packages since the closing. All private delivery companies of course refuse to enter the greater Night Vale area, because, a FedEx representative explained, ‘It is cursed.’

Witnesses say the post office has opened its doors and looks to be full of activity. There have been a few changes. For instance, all clerks behind the counter are now strange cloth-wrapped figures who hum tunelessly and turn in place instead of doing any sort of official postal business. In addition, the entire customer line and lobby area is full of more of these cloth-wrapped figures, all similarly turning and humming. Those who have tried to enter the building have reported an immediate wave of dizziness and nausea, followed by visions of strange jagged peaks and a churning black ocean. Also, they say, stamps now cost two cents more than a few months ago. It is not enough, apparently, for the postal service to violently assault our minds with visions, but they are also intent on bleeding our wallets dry. For shame.

But hey, at least everyone can get Amazon deliveries again. As their slogan says, ‘Amazon dot com: The only website now. Where did the rest of them go? Do not ask. Do not ask.’

And now, the weather.

[“Neptune’s Jewels” by Mystic.]