Piercing The Night Vale
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The black moon howls as the red sun weeps, and the desert night is beautiful. Welcome… to Night Vale…

Old Woman Josie has recently advised us that the angels do not care for the antics of small children in certain Halloween costumes, dear listeners. So, in the coming weeks, as we move into that most Hallowed time of year, it is advisable to avoid the following costumes: demons. Skeletons. The candidates of the 1916 Presidential election. Chechens. And Bob Hope. Why not dress your kids up as something more innocent, like cats, pumpkins, or the strange, gripping ecstasy we all felt last March? I'm sure the angels, and the community of Night Vale at large, will appreciate your efforts to make the holiday season friendlier.

On a related note, please do not feed the bowling alley your candy. It gets ill, and begins shouting anti-Semitic remarks. I think we can all agree that nobody likes that, but especially not the bowling alley the morning after.

According to a series of reports I have just been handed, the Triannual Night Vale Can Drive has been cancelled, due to the minor complication of our homeless vanishing without a trace. Dear listeners, I can assure you, this is an absolutely normal occurrence for a town such as ours, and there is absolutely no cause for alarm and/or ritualistic panic. Trust me.

Now, here's something I think you'll find interesting, dear listeners. Carlos, and his perfect hair, of course, came to me just the other day and said he had heard about some out of town scientists planning a trip to our humble desert community. By now, I have, as I hope you all have, learned that scientists are not the dangerous, subversive men the town council once wanted us to believe they were. In fact, they can even be loved. So, being the cutting-edge reporter and gracious host that I am, I decided it would behoove me to go out and get an exclusive interview with these scientists.

It was dangerous, of course, dear listeners. The scientists were only in town because they had heard the last broadcast - you know, the one telling of the oncoming storm of despair and happiness that descended upon the westside of Night Vale last night. Being out in that tempest was certainly an experience I do not wish to repeat, but I am willing to do anything to bring you your news, dear listeners.

Anyways, they certainly were a strange lot. All dressed in white, with white gloves and in white vans, white as the moon as it sails across the sky and stares down upon Earth, so lonely in the universe. They certainly weren't beautiful like Carlos and his perfect hair. They didn't even have any sort of equipment on them! In fact, they were quite surprised to meet me out there; apparently, they hadn't expected the person who warned of such a dangerous storm to be standing right out in the middle of it.

Of course, they didn't even notice the storm either, but then, do any of us really want to notice such things, dear listeners?

I'm afraid I have to apologize here, friends and listeners. I had hoped to coax these scientists into town long enough to get them on the show today, but they only stuck around long enough to ask me a few questions about Night Vale before leaving. I can barely even remember their faces! However, I can tell you, dear listeners, what I told them.

I told them of Night Vale. I told them of the unsavory parts of our town - the dog park, the hooded figures, of the Apache Tracker, of that asshole, Steve Carlsberg. But, dear listeners, I also told them of the good aspects. Of the humble Arby's, of the beautiful lights that dance across the sky at noontime every seventh Friday, of the lovely scientists that inhabit our dear town, of how much better we are than Desert Bluffs. Of Carlos in particular, and his beautiful, perfect hair. And, of course, of you, dear listeners, the best citizens any community could ask for.

I told them all of this, and waited to see what further questions they would ask, what curiosities they would explore first. Instead, all they did was stand around for a few minutes, look around them, then thanked me for my time, piled into their vans, and left. I could swear one of them muttered about what a "delusional, rambling nut" I was as they departed, but none of them seemed all that rude.

Perhaps, dear listeners, they were simply too stunned by the great town we have been blessed to live in to pollute it with their poking and prodding. We may never know, but we can say they were very odd men. Just remember, listeners, that we should always embrace the odd and weird, unless the town council tells us not to. True, they were strange, but I accept them all, even if they are no longer with us.

After all, isn't meeting new people what being a citizen of Night Vale is all about?

No. It's about hiding under your desks and praying for salvation when the birds croak their terrible secrets.

And now, the weather!

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