Don’t let your problems get you down. Hey, I said don’t let them. Are you even listening to me?? Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, there has been a murder!

Now obviously this is big news, but first let’s look at some of today’s top headlines.

The Ralphs will be extending its hours in November so that we can all stock up for Turkey Day, as every staff member at Ralphs is forced to call it.

“I hope the weather is good on turkey day,” they’ll mumble to you. “Any big plans for turkey day?” they’ll groan, not meeting your eyes. And if you say “thanksgiving” to them, they are forced to correct you. “I think you mean turkey day,” they’ll wail, tears streaming down their cheeks. “That’s just the fun little way we like to refer to it,” they’ll croak, with throats gone raw from screaming. Anyway, the Ralphs will be open to 11 in November, so be sure to get in there and shop for any day you want, turkey or otherwise.

Also there have been booms and flashing lights from the old missile range, just before the vanishing point of the horizon. That desolate stretch where the government used to test weapons back in the 50s. The government says that this time, it’s not them. “Nuh uh,” the government said, through a coded message in the television static that only very attuned people could receive. “No way,” they said, “we would NEVER do something like shoot missiles off near a town. Couldn’t be us. Frankly, insulting that you would even suggest it.” The lights seen at the old missile range have been a cool green and a flickering yellow. The sounds have come as deep booms and hot little pops. Who knows what’s happening there? Not my job to find out, I’m just a journalist.

Ok, the important stuff out of the way, let’s get to the murder.

The angel formerly known as Marcus Vanston was killed today in the private library of his estate. Marcus was once the richest man in town until he transformed into an angel, and then he became the richest angel in town. He used his fortune, among other things, to buy Stexcorp Synernists Inc and also to fund some much needed repairs to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex.

The cause of death is not known, but the body was found surrounded by the following objects: a venomous snake, dead. A ceremonial dagger recovered ten years ago from an archeological site in Luftnarp. A length of rope tied into the knot known as “the Devil’s Handshake.” And a book of dirty limericks with every fourth word circled and a handwritten note that said “it is finished!” on the last page.

The other angels expressed shock for two reasons. The first is that Marcus’s library had been locked securely from the inside, as it always was during what Marcus referred to as “me time” in which he sat in a large throne in his private library and laughed about how much money he had. There is no sign of forced entry on the door or windows, and no sign that a ghost or sentient haze passed through the walls.

The second reason is they had no idea that angels could die.

The angels, all named Erika, huddled in a chattering mass near the crime scene, saying things like “what could possibly kill an angel?” and “does that mean that I too will someday die? But I don’t want that to happen. That’s not fair.”

The Sheriff's Secret Police currently have no suspects, but have assured the public that they will as soon they can make all the evidence look right.

But more interestingly, I received a call from former mayor of Night Vale, Dana Cardinal

DANA

Cecil, I have reason to believe that this murder is not just about the death of one angel. I think that this murder is related to a secret. A secret that forces in Night Vale have worked to keep hidden for centuries. We must solve this case, for to solve this case is to learn something profound about this place we live, and perhaps about ourselves. And also because the person or persons who murdered Marcus are still out there, and I believe they will strike again, and soon. I am reaching out to the best detectives in the business, hoping one will take my case. I’ll let you know how it goes. Also, long time, no see. Hope you’re good or whatever.

CECIL

I have been meaning to give Dana a call. I really should get to that. But more importantly, what if Dana is right? I’m glad she is getting an experienced detective here. All the best to the Sheriff’s Secret Police, who are great if you need something covered up or a convenient patsy pinned for a crime, but they just don’t really have what it takes to, you know, actually use evidence to come up with a solution.

More on this soon.

But first, a word from our sponsors.

Today’s show is brought to you by Little Roy’s Hand Crafted Potato Chips. We’re just a small family business, making the potato chips we love and we hope you love them too.

Our story is simple: Roy Little, nickname Little Roy, was always making his special potato chips for family parties, and everyone always said “Roy, you could sell these,” and so Roy did, and thus the Little Roy’s Hand Crafted Potato Chip story was born.

Little Roy’s Hand Crafted Potato Chips are proudly owned by MunCo, owner of Matilda’s Proper Potato Chips, The Kerr Family Handcrafted Chip Company, and Doritos.

MunCo is in turn a proud subsidiary of LucidCorp, a family of companies that includes everything from paper towels to dog food to, that’s right, craft family potato chips. If you can buy it in a grocery store, we own it, and so, in some tiny important way, we own you.

LucidCorp is a proud holding of Specter Investments International. We are a small family owned conglomerate who takes great care with groceries, and laptops, and fighter jets, and publishing companies, and all the other things we control. Honestly, sometimes even we forget.

So try Little Roy’s Hand Crafted Potato Chips. Roy Little died three years ago. No one from any of those companies came to his funeral.

Potato chips made with love.

This has been a word from our sponsors.

And now traffic.

Sometimes I think about my heart. This tiny muscle that just has to keep going and going for as long as I do. Through my happiest moments, as I slipped the ring on my husband’s hand, as Esteban looked up for the first time at me with his tiny wondering eyes and reached up to pull my hair. At my lowest moments, when I say something to Carlos during a fight and I didn’t mean it but I know I’ve gone too far and he’ll forgive me, sure, that’s what a marriage is, an ongoing celebration and an ongoing forgiveness. But the hurt will stick, somewhere, just a little, and I’ll never be able to take it back. When I used to run in circles around the lawn as a child, imagining stories longer and more complex than any novel, a continuous imaginary life running parallel to my real one. When I sat by my mother’s bed in the hospital and understood that this was the shape of the rest of her life, that it wasn’t going to get better, just different shades of bad. Through all of this, my heart beat and beat and it cannot stop. Just as I cannot stop. Because sometimes I am exhausted and sometimes I am floating in a revery and sometimes I am so in love and sometimes I want to close my eyes and sit in a dark quiet room for the rest of my life, but I have to keep going and going for as long as I can, just like a heart. Just like my heart.

This has been traffic.

Another update from Dana. Let me just patch that in, is it this button? [LOUD BLENDER SOUND] Oops, that one turns on the blender. [BLENDER OFF] I have no idea why we have one of those in the radio booth. Ok, this is the right one.

DANA

I have tried reaching out to every detective I can think of. But mostly I can’t even get through to their offices. Phone connections from here to the rest of the world are fuzzy and scattershot at best. I did get through to a pair called Lou and Molly in Los Angeles. They had some very good online reviews, but Molly politely told me that they are being pursued by a dangerous criminal in a thrilling game of cat and mouse and so their calendar is currently full. I also got a hold of an amateur detective named Keisha who had, frankly, a fantastic voice. She has a lot of experience with the weird and the wild out there on the backroad corners of our country but she says that she is unavailable. It seems she recently received a weird phone call and needs to go back out on those roads to investigate. A brand new adventure, she said. A new chapter in the tale of my life. I don’t know what that meant but it was kind of tmi and so I hung up. This is all really disappointing.

CECIL

That is disappointing, but if anyone can figure this out, it’s Dana, my close friend who I really need to call for the first time in years.

But first the community calendar.

Monday is the Global Dining Festival at Grove Park, presented by the Night Vale Culinary Society. Society president Audrey Grimes explained “We’ve sampled the best and worst of what Night Vale has to offer, but we want to also be thinking globally. That’s why we decided to dine on the globe. On the earth itself.” She smiled, her eyes were empty wells. “Bit by bit,” she said, ‘we will eat the globe, the whole of it. We will taste everything it has to offer. You cannot stop us.” She then dropped onto all fours and started biting the earth. Mouthfuls of grass and then soil. She looked up at me with those empty eyes, dirt smeared on her chin and tongue, and growled. So check that event out. Regular tickets are $15 and VIP tickets are $30. VIP attendees will be put in a big glass box labeled “look at these rich idiots” for everyone to laugh at during the event.

Tuesday, my son, Esteban, will be presenting a magic show on our front lawn. He’s only a kid, so please be nice, this is his first public performance. He will be doing some simple coin and card tricks, and attempting to make contact with the dead who wait for us just beyond the veil. Apparently this is all stuff he learned in witch camp. Anyway, please show up, it’d be nice if he got a crowd, and who knows, you might get to glimpse that terrible nothing that awaits us all.

Wednesday will be The Reckoning. No more information has been provided, but the City Council did suggest wearing a helmet and protective gear.

Thursday is a block party thrown by the Desert Creek HOA, who recently knocked down all houses and moved the residents into rudimentary homes built into the earth. This block party will have shivering, fires in big metal barrels, and a woman grabbing at your collar while weeping. Also hot dogs. Come on down!

Friday believes in you, and thinks you can become better. Friday will love you no matter what, but needs you to try, for your sake if not for its sake.

Saturday is a little lie we tell ourselves to get us through the week.

And on Sunday, Lieutenant Regis [reh-zhees], of Unit 7 of the local National Guard Station and KFC combo store will be stepping out onto his dusty porch, and settling down into a rocking chair that hasn’t rocked since one of the legs broke a few years back. He’ll breathe slowly through his nose and stare at an ant that will cross the sand in front of his station. He will feel a longing so tangible that he will be able to locate it physically in his throat. The longing will sit there, almost choking him, but his face will remain placid. The ant will disappear into the sand. Eventually, Regis will return into the station. Time will pass, some of it good and some of it bad. Mistakes will be made, and some of them will not be fixable. A bird will perch on the roof, make one sharp and beautiful sound, and fly away.

This has been the community calendar.

Dana called again. Let’s go to her now. [BATS CHATTERING] Ahhh! Ok, that was the button that releases the bats. I wish I hadn’t pressed that. This is the right one here.

DANA

I have tried detective after detective, but they all say things like “I don’t know where Night Vale is” or “I think you are prank calling me” or “please stop prank calling me.” It’s infuriating. I need their help, but they will not offer it. And so I have come to a decision. I know what we must do next. We are in trouble, have no doubt of that, but we are a strong and strange city and I know that this turmoil also we shall weather.

[weather]

CECIL

The secret police have left Marcus Vanston’s manor. The grounds are sealed with police tape. Long shadows grow into darkness in its halls and its parlors. The sharp squawk of a radio from the single patrol car left to watch over the scene echoes through the sprawling gardens. Marcus himself has been transported to the morgue, where an autopsy was performed. However the coroner said that the autopsy did not turn up much useful information, as when he cut open the body of the angel, the angel was full of stars. “A sweep of deep space, full of glittering stars, an entire universe I could have fallen into and started a new life, I believe, as a new person, washed clean of all sin and regret accrued in this imperfect vessel of mine,” the official autopsy report read. The report then had a drawing of a crack opening onto a field of stars, indicating by the frantic stabbing of little dots into the paper with a pencil, some so hard that the paper ripped all the way through. Interesting, but doesn’t seem to give us much new information on the case.

Fortunately, Dana has once again called in, and I think you’re going to want to hear this. Let me just….[LOUD BLENDER NOISE] Not again! [NOISE OFF] You would think I would have gotten it by now. Sorry, it’s this button. [LOUD BLENDER NOISE ON THEN OFF] No, that was the blender again. It’s this one.

DANA

Hello Cecil. I have made a decision. We cannot get a detective to come to our town and solve our mystery for us. And so we have no choice. We must solve this mystery ourselves. I will act as detective. I have no training, no innate skill in the arts of detection. But I do have a determination. I know that we must understand what happened here or any one of us could be the next to die. And so, I will examine the clues. I will interview the witnesses. I will come to some kind of solution, or I will fall in failing. This locked room mystery must be solved, and I will be the one to do it.

CECIL

And so there you have it. Everything’s fine, Dana’s on it. Hopefully no one else gets murdered while she’s solving it, that’d be a real bummer.

I’m very proud of what my former intern has accomplished. She fought off her own double with a stapler, became mayor of Night Vale, confronted an army of doubles come to get their revenge, and now she’s getting into private investigation. All really exciting stuff. Anyone looking to follow her footsteps and join the intern program, please drop by the station to fill out an application and do the required ten day boot camp.

Stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for [fades out]