Work Text:
The diameter of the restraint is three inches.
The width of your hand is five inches.
All you have to do is make the width of your hand three inches. But do it quickly, if you want any hope of escape.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Breaking news, listeners. The prolific serial killer known as “the Surgeon” has struck again. The body was found just an hour before the start of this show. The Sheriff’s Secret Police describe the scene as “bloody.”
“It’s a bloody tidy scene,” Sheriff Sam said, seeming very happy about it. “Usually, with murders, there’s a lot for us to clean up, but here we just have to get rid of the body and the place will be tidy once more. Maybe a bit of a sweep, but that’s just life when people wear shoes indoors for some reason.”
I asked Sam if they thought that meant the victim wasn’t killed on the scene and was instead brought here after their death. They gave me a long, judging look and told me I should watch less violent television so I don’t get ideas. “Those TV cop shows are just outsider propaganda. I really have to get the Mayor to agree to ban them.”
Then they held up two colored eyeliner pens and asked which I thought would match their eyes better because they had an important appointment later.
I told Sam they both were nice, in fear of arrest in case I answered wrong.
This marks the third body found in as many months. All victims have precise, surgical cuts, likely from a scalpel, as well as something “really fucked up done to them, but like, in a Dr. Frankenstein way,” said coroner Lorelei Alvarez. “Like, if someone just went wild with attaching internal organs together or removing them entirely to see how long the person can survive. Just seeing what happens!” she explained to me and tried to show me photos, which I politely and firmly declined.
Unfortunately, the victim was on the table nearby so she showed me that instead, pulling off the white sheet without warning.
I was able to escape by asking her if she thought Victor Frankenstein was a real MD or not by today’s standards and then making a break for the door while she was distracted.
The victim was 63 year old Todd Ellington, a member of the Air-Filled Earth Society, who had mostly taken over campaigning after the founder, Paul Birmingham, began to protest against more than just the globe Earth and Flat Earth models.
So far, neither the Sheriff’s Secret Police nor Dr. Alvarez have any leads on who the Surgeon is, or why he’s doing this. But there’s plenty of discussion and speculation on our community Facebook page, so those interested in the case can head over there to form your opinions, or to accept someone else’s as your own without questioning it.
In other news, the Night Vale Tourism Board is planning to build a hotel in town. Madeleine LaFleur, executive director, sent out a press release earlier this week. “When the tourists arrive, they’ll need somewhere to stay,” the press release explains. “They will need somewhere to keep their belongings, to shower, and sleep. If we provide them with that place, we can ask them for even more money.
“Have you ever seen Pretty Woman?” the press release continues. “It has Julia Roberts in it. Her character, Vivian, is lounging on a hotel bed, at one point. We will continue watching Julia Roberts movies to learn more about what a hotel should look and be like, so we can do our best to accommodate our future tourists. And locals can stay there, too! If you get in a fight with your spouse or just want to pretend you live somewhere else, come to our hotel. But only after it’s built. There is no hotel yet. Do not come yet.”
A very thorough and informative press release, Miss LaFleur. I’m sure this idea will be a massive hit at the next town meeting.
Let’s have a look at the community calendar.
Thursday is Thirsty Thursday. Don’t drink a single drop. You’ll be thirsty. So, very thirsty.
On Friday, Jessica Whitly will be hosting a party to celebrate being the “richest person in town”. The previously richest person in town, Marcus Vanston was… Called into higher duty by some winged beings, that are NOT angels, but are all called Erika with a k. The money and valuables previously in his possession now belong to no one, and thus, the person with the most wealth after Mr. Vanston is Mrs. Whitly.
An Erika, who looked wealthy and was mostly nude, protested Mrs. Whitly’s claims by saying “I’m still the richest in town. I have a huge mansion and several chimneys. I even own that company that tried to take over some time ago, Strex Corp. So I’m like, way richer than she is. Hope she’s happy while she still can, or whateverrr.”
Nobody heard these comments as nobody was acknowledging them.
As some of you might know, the Whitley family is originally from outside of Night Vale, but like my lovely, imperfectly perfect Carlos, they’re the good kind of outsiders. Still, some of their customs might be confusing, such as what is considered proper evening party attire. So after this calendar, we are introducing a new segment to help you figure aaaaaallll that stuff out.
On Saturday, Teddy Williams is hosting children’s bowling league tryouts. The entrance fee is paid by buying a bucket of wings, or by giving him two buckets of quality, homemade spackle.
Sunday is the tri-monthly Faces In Our Windows day, during which we do our best not to move and pretend to be statues the entire day so that the grotesque faces that periodically look through our windows don’t steal us away and do whatever it is that they do with those they catch moving. We recommend trying to use those weird strips of fabric hanging by most windows to obscure their view or those paper ladders with wayyy too many tiny steps. Or spending the day in a room with no sightlines to windows.
On Monday, Dr. Whitly is performing free operations for the six first lucky volunteers at Night Vale General Hospital. You do not get a say in what the procedure is.
On Tuesday the Night Vale Highway Department is putting up “new kinds of billboards”. You are not permitted to understand the subliminal messages they show to only those who wear real Ray-Bans, not those cheap lookalike knockoffs.
This has been the community calendar.
And now, listeners, the unveiling of a brand new segment: Cecil’s fashion advice! I feel like I should have a proper soundboard jingle but I don’t sooo… Du-du-duuuu! Pah, pa-pa-pah! Nyaaaaauuummmm, fashuuuun! It’s a work in progress.
As you know, beloved listeners, I’m a bit of a fashion guy myself. If you’ve seen my Tumblr, you know I “serve looks” as the teens these days say. But Mrs. Whitly’s party isn’t our usual Night Vale evening party, where one would show up wearing sponge clogs or beehive caps.
According to my research, outside of Night Vale evening parties are meant to be elegant and simple, but good-looking. Dresses or “evening gowns” as they’re called, are long, and usually a single color, but they can have a striking feature, such as an interesting neckline, or some kind of embellishment. Think traditional Bloodstone Mass full-body robes, but without the hoods.
Hairstyles should be less “just woke up” but not full-on “spent 3 cans of hairspray on it”. Makeup and jewelry are up to the user, but cursed rings or pendants are not recommended, as that is considered bad manners.
Suit jackets and pants should match each other in color and pattern. I know, it sounds limiting, but you can accessorize with cufflinks, earrings, or headpieces. If you go with a date or dates, your tie should complement your partner’s clothing. So, for example, if your partner is wearing a blue suit, your tie should be blue or invoke the idea of blue things, such as the sky in movies, or all Ford Fiestas in town. Bow ties, bolo ties, ascots, and cravats are also allowed, but they should also try to complement the partner’s main color in some way.
“But Cecil. What about shoes?” you’re asking. “There’s going to be dancing, isn’t there? What shoes should we wear, Cecil? Please, bestow us with your knowledge!” Don’t worry, bestow I shall.
You should wear comfortable, but nice-looking shoes. No dirty sneakers or platform sandals. Heels, oxfords, all of those are fine. Heck, you could even wear boots if you wanted. I think I will. I have this adorable pair in mind. Sponge clogs and meat slippers, however, are not allowed.
Now, I know this might seem super demanding. Like, you invite people to a party and then tell them how to dress, and it’s not even a City Council mandated surprise “attendance obligatory or else” costume party? But listeners, think of it like this. We have so many beautiful traditions, like our soft meat crowns and shouting at the Void, and the Whitly family has accepted them with open arms. And now, Mrs. Whitly wants to offer us a tradition of theirs. Should we not do our best to show her we care?
I think we should. And I’m sure all of those who were invited, will.
Segment: done. Du-du-duuuu! Pah, pa-pa-pahhhsunnnn. Du!
And now, traffic.
There is a boy. There is a boy, running. There is a boy, running, in the woods. There is a boy, running, in the woods, at night.
He is holding a blood-soaked knife.
He is running away from the cabin, with the two men. One a stranger, he other someone who was supposed to be his protector. He is in more danger with him, than with the stranger, who will not spare him if he’s caught.
Leaves crunch, twigs snap and he trips every so often on something, but he doesn’t fall over. He can feel his heart pounding, his lungs burning, his ribcage hurting. He doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know if he will make it out alive.
He wishes his father would save him.
He knows his father can never be trusted again.
This has been traffic.
Uhhh, I just received a text from intern Ainsley reminding me to talk about the giant, invisible snail currently leaving behind a slimy trail of destruction in Old Town Night Vale. Sooo…
Listeners, there is a giant, invisible snail currently leaving behind a slimy trail of destruction in Old Town Night Vale. If you think it might be coming for you, look at what has already been destroyed, and try to stay away from that path. The snail seems to be moving in a somewhat straight line, and pretty slowly, due to its size.
Intern Ainsley also sent me a few videos of the situation, but given the snail is invisible, it’s mostly just lamp posts falling over or trash cans and parked cars getting squashed. I’m… not really sure if she knows radio is not a visual medium.
These younger people and their phones and videos and such. They're practically glued to them. It’s as if they won’t survive if they can’t open the app they just closed on the off chance that something has happened in the last three seconds.
My cell phone just appeared on my nightstand one morning, as it did for all other native Night Valeans, and honestly, the only things I really know how to use are Tumblr and texting. Carlos is usually the one to call me and I just gotta press the green button to hear his lovely voice, so that's pretty simple.
Listeners, while I figure out FaceTime so I can tell Intern Ainsley to give a verbal report to the station first, and suggest she post videos to our radio’s FaceBook page after, you all should figure out—
—hang up now? ...You already did. Okay, good.
I’m back, listeners. Compliment sandwich delivered, and giant, invisible slug defeated.
Do you remember, a few years ago, when Old Woman Josie’s… tall, winged house guests took all her salt? That was the day when my beautiful Carlos arrived, in case you needed a refresher. I remember everything about that day with perfect clarity, even if my memory is a bit spotty about other things. I could never forget the moment when he smiled, and I fell in love instantly.
It looks like we finally know why Josie's... strange friends borrowed her salt. To kill this latest interruption to our daily lives. Salt rained from the skies, like dead animals from the Glow Cloud, all hail, upon the snail, and the white cover allowed us to see its outline. It took a while, but eventually, it fell over, crushed one last car, and stopped moving. I think that means it’s dead from sodium poisoning?
Snails don’t usually lay down, do they? I mean I know they move on their bellies, but they don’t like to be sideways, I don’t think. They… Retreat into their shells? How do they sleep? Do snails sleep?
I should ask Carlos. I’m sure there’s something scientific about snails he can tell me during dinner. He’s cooking tonight, and it’s going to be delicious as usual, I’m sure. It's not Franchian cuisine, though.
Stay tuned next for an oaky voice welcoming his boyfriend home, followed by sounds of kissing and then half an hour of smacking and slurping while eating, and finally, a discussion of what movie to watch while sleepily cuddling on the couch.
Good night, Night Vale.
Good night.