Speaking of the City Council, it voted this week to remove the large, lead-plated door from the northeasternmost crook of Radon Canyon. You know, the area pulsing with green light and sotto voce basso humming. Proponents of the measure called the large, yellow emblem and red lettering that spelled out, “DANGER – PLUTONIUM – DO NOT OPEN DOOR – RISK OF DEATH” were at worst an offensive eyesore and at best a hacky sci-fi cliche.
Many Night Vale citizens attended the meeting, including, it was said, several angels— although no angel is admitted to have been present for the City Council meeting, or any other event ever, for that matter. Old Woman Josie agreed with the measure, adding that lead is a health hazard, and that the old door was nothing but a ticking time-bomb. According to the meeting minutes, Josie said, “That old door… ooh, that door. Someone’s going to get some kind of lead poisoning.”
Carlos— beautiful Carlos, tragically shorn of his locks— reportedly was the only dissenting voice, but it is not clear he actually opposed the measure, as the minutes only report him stating, “There is no time! No more time!” into a black rectangle in his hand, and then running, winded, from the community hall. According to Old Woman Josie, he was still absolutely perfect, and smelled of lavender chewing gum.
The Night Vale Community Theater is holding auditions for its fall show, Once On This Island. Interested thespians should bring a head shot and résumé to the Recreation Center auditorium on Thursday night.
All auditionees must perform a one-minute monologue and sing one song. Bring sheet music if you would like piano accompaniment. Auditionees will also be required to do a cold reading and give blood and stool samples, along with mandatory radiation testing following the auditions. Do not sing anything from South Pacific. People of color are urged to audition, as Night Vale Community Theater is an equal opportunity employer. Also, actors with long-range sniper training, Fortran computer programming, and top-notch wilderness survival skills are a plus. Final casting will be announced in secret, via dirigible. No one can ever know.
Virgo. Go see a movie today. It’s a great escape. Especially from all of this pollution and dangerous UV radiation. Say, is that mole new?
Libra. Your dreams will be filled with prophetic visions. Write them down. Hopefully, there are some lottery numbers or sports scores in there.
Scorpio. Curse you. Curse your family. Curse your children, and your children’s children. Vile, vile Scorpio.
Sagittarius. Eat well today! You’ve earned it. And by “it,” I mean massive food allergies. And by “earned,” I mean acquired. I should proof this stuff before I read it out loud. Let’s try that again. You’ve acquired massive food allergies. Yes, much cleaner. Eat well!
Capricorn. Those were not contact lenses you put in this morning. Best not think about this again.
Aquarius. The white ball will be under the middle shell. Trust the stars: invest all your money in this lucrative street game.
Pisces. You’ve won a brand new car!
Aries. You will feel a haunting sadness about times gone by. Today’s smell is wheatgrass and toast.
Taurus. Today is your annual Crime Day. All Tauruses are exempt from laws today.
Gemini. You will meet someone today who will have no effect on your life, and who you will immediately forget. Retain hope for a possible future.
Cancer. I’ve got to pay my phone bill, and also get some more milk. —That wasn’t me talking; that is what the stars say today. Interpret it as you will.
Leo. —It’s better that I don’t read this aloud. Better that you not know. Tell your family you love them.