Further updates on wheat and wheat by-products. The good news is that they are no longer poisonous serpents.
The bad news is that they have transformed into a particularly evil and destructive form of spirit. Please be aware that wheat and wheat by-products are now malevolent and violent supernatural forces capable of physically moving objects up to 200 pounds, and entering human souls of up to soul-strength four.
The frantic scientists, who are now hopping up and down just outside my recording booth, indicating various charts and figures, recommend creating a simple lean-to out of animal bones and mud– such as you might have made and played in as a child– and hiding there until the spiritual forces of wheat and wheat by-products have passed.
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.
More now on the Man in the Tan Jacket. Old Woman Josie called to tell us that her angel friends are saying that the deerskin suitcase is full of flies. The angels would not tell her more, explaining that knowing more would jeopardize her eternal soul, as well as their own statuses as angels. They did not want to mess with that.
Old Woman Josie added that she thinks the Man in the Tan Jacket is just a salesman of some sort, a fly salesman she bets, wandering from town to town with polished shoes and a suitcase full of flies.
“Oh, I just can’t stand those fly salesmen,” she said, “ringing my doorbell at three AM wanting to show me samples and asking for glasses of orange milk.”