Cecil has proposed that we have a Subway Date tonight. I thought about how quickly the romance has left the relationship, but it turns out he didn’t mean Subway sandwiches (I’m still trying to master locating them in Night Vale) but an actual trip on the subway.

Now, we both own cars, and mine is a hybrid, plus there’s the Science Jeep, and Cecil has been known to teleport on occasion (not usually voluntarily, but still) so I wasn’t sure why we’d need to take the train somewhere. But there is a stop outside the radio station and there’s one very near Big Rico’s, so his idea was that he’d get on at NVCR stop at the Blue Line and I’d get on at Big Rico’s And Science Lab at the Oxblood Line and we can meet at the transfer station, the name of which is unpronounceable in human tongue, and have a picnic on the way out to Scrublands Central Station to look at the stars. It’s quite sweet when you put it like that, particularly when you put it like that in Cecil’s beautiful voice.

I should go buy a bottle of wine. Or two. We won’t be driving, after all…

Public Service

Cecil read a public service announcement the other day about becoming an organ donor. I thought about it; I’m still listed on the registry in California, I think, and I really should register in Night Vale as well. But they said donors needed to be present for collection on Tuesday at 4, and I’m doing a presentation on Science For A Better If Not A Longer Life at the Children’s Museum on Tuesday.

I’ll give to the Night Vale Hospital Society the next time they come around with guns asking for money. And the interns know to ship me back to California if I end up in a vegetative state.

The Secret Police, in cooperation with A Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency, would like to remind you that here in Night Vale, no one is eating each other. They remind you that this is a friendly reminder. The Secret Police added their assurance that they see no reason to alert us to the not-at-all-increasingly-common practice of grill parties and consensual cannibalism.

I was invited to a grill party just last weekend! It was a lot of fun. I think Cecil and I are going to Johnpeter U Knowthefarmer’s grill party this weekend, too. Cecil’s very excited. “Our first grill party as a, you know, a couple!”

Ooh, note to self, I should buy some good beer to bring as a host gift. What pairs well with pork?

mostlyv0id-partiallystars asked:

I can't help but feel that the soil around Night Vale is very poor suited for growing fucks, what with the mortality rate and all.

Well, you’d think really that would make for nitrogen-rich earth, just perfect for growing anything. I mean, why settle for bone meal when you can have flesh and blood and internal organs AND bone meal? 

I think the problem is that the last batch of fucks she got were those terrible genetically engineered ones where they end up sterile, so you can’t save the seeds and plant new ones. They do the same with corn; it’s a terrible shame. 

But I’ve asked the interns to take soil samples, so we’ll soon know what the optimal medium for growing fucks in is. 


We had a surprise delivery of Feelings to the lab today. It alarmed the interns, most of whom received “Regret I Did Not Make A Better Impression”. They’ve all needed a lot of reassurance this afternoon that I love them all and don’t think ill of them. We ended up watching old Muppet Show reruns to make them feel better.

I myself received “Surprised At How Much I Really Needed That Ten Minute Break” which was pleasant, if fleeting. I understand from Yelp that the most common feeling is “tingling horror” which I’d just as soon miss. It’s not that I don’t like horror now and again, but I prefer it to be the result of a horror film, or of science gone awry. The former is deliberate and the latter I can fix with more science. 

Cecil called and said his favorite so far is “frustrated origami novice” which does sound like an interesting feeling. I asked him if there’s somewhere to sign up for a feeling of the month club, but he said he didn’t know where you go to sign up for feelings, and that in the meantime we’d better just stick to growing most of our feelings at home.

Oldwoman-Josie, when I asked for her professional medical opinion, pointed to the yard out back and said “Carlos, sweetheart, this is the field where I grow my fucks. Note that it is barren.”

I’m sending the interns over tomorrow to help her grandchildren plant some, if the shipment of fucks she’s hoping for comes in.

Domestic Matters

Cecil came over today before the radio show, to keep me company while I worked on the cake for Tamika. It was nice, assembling the little fondant models while Cecil went over his talking points for the day’s show.

It makes him nervous, of course, the fact that I’m running an illegal wheat and wheat by-products shop out of the back of the lab. But then as I pointed out, it makes me nervous when he takes the mobile unit and goes off to investigate monsters in the scrublands or what the Ralph’s is doing with such a massive stockpile of eggs, so we’ve agreed not to discuss the fact that he’s a daredevil and I’m a criminal. It’s worked well for us so far.

I’m coming to enjoy small town life. Sure, it’s a little strange, and there is a persistent humming in the post office that sets your teeth on edge, but nowhere is perfect.

Baking Like We Stole It

Well, all the kids are back from inside the library. They seem thin and tired, and a whole crowd of them showed up early this morning at the bootleg bakery. It was all I could do to keep them in buttermilk biscuits. The interns have been baking like crazy ever since.

We’re hard at work on a cake for Tamika, who apparently did the best out of everyone in the Summer Reading Program, or possibly rose to dominance through guerrilla tactics, nobody seems sure. At any rate, she read Cry, The Beloved Country which is a book I personally love, and far above her reading level, as Cecil pointed out when he suggested we make her a cake. It’s going to be shaped like the shanty town from the book, which I thought might be tasteless but Tamika requested.

"WE WILL DESTROY AND DEVOUR AUTHORITY LIKE FONDANT," she declared, and all the children cheered. It brings a tear to your eye, watching kids discover great literature, it really does.

Summer Reading

Well, we’ve had to curtail some of our activities in the bootleg bakery lately. Usually we have tons of kids buying cookies and rye bread and carrot muffins, but in the past few days they’ve all vanished into the library.

I suppose it’s a good thing, but self-directed learning is definitely cutting into my profit margin. What if they find some overlooked Joy Of Baking in the cookbooks section and learn to handle wheat and wheat by-products for themselves? I can only make fruitcakes against the day they eventually return, I suppose.

Cecil isn’t happy about it either. Intern Paolo (sweet kid) is in the library too. I told Cecil that wasn’t too surprising; after all, he organized the radio station archives, he has a natural aptitude for shelves.

Once it gets dark, forget everything you ever knew and be silent. Words belong to our enemies, and our enemies are words, so be as mute and pure as a bone bleached clean by our desert sun.

I’m a little uncertain about the slogan that’s trying to “popularize” the new Intellectual Curfew.

The Curfew says that “no reading, researching, online information seeking, educational games, documentary television, or having a lifelong love of learning will be permitted” after 7pm.

Fortunately it only applies to minors, who as we all know are just going to ignore all stupid rules at any rate. They’re my best wheat and wheat by-product customers, and I’m so proud of their civilly disobedient little butts.

FYI from Carlos Mun

Hello readers! I realized I wanted to share a bounty with you, and it’s even better than invisible corn.

The library poster from today and the one from early in March were both modified from posters in the Work Projects Administration Library Collection at the Library of Congress.

The Library of Congress has a truly stunning online database of images from the past 200 years, everything from baseball cards to propaganda posters, civil war photographs to illustration archives. They are mainly high-resolution and free for use (with proper attribution). It’s a great resource for lovers of history and design, and I encourage everyone to explore and enjoy the bounty that your taxes pay for.

If you live in the United States. And if you pay taxes. And if your taxes aren’t going to fund the shadowy government agencies which secretly control the subliminal messages encoded into the commercial breaks of new Hannibal episodes.

Summer Reading

It’s still terribly hot here, especially for March, and the entire town continues to labor under the illusion that it’s summer. All the kids are out of school, which is causing me some problems with the interns, since children seem to have a slightly higher incidence of actually noticing they exist. It makes the interns nervous, to be honest.

I’ve been considering taking on a few of the older children who hang around as auxiliary interns. It would keep them out of trouble, and they seem like sharp kids.

There’s this one girl, Tamika, who doesn’t seem that interested in chemistry but is fascinated by physics. I told her I’d get one of the interns to tutor her, but she said she was signing up for the library’s summer reading program. She seemed…grimly determined about it.

Come to think of it, signups were yesterday, and I haven’t seen nearly as many kids around since then…