206 - The Great Librarian of the Western Sands

and I don't just write Welcome to Nightville, we also write books that are not about Nightville, and here are some of them.

Alice Isn't Dead, a lesbian road trip horror love story for fans of Stephen King.

The Halloween Moon, my book for kids of any age about a Halloween where things really start to get weird for everyone.

The First 10 Years, a memoir from me and my wife about our relationship told year by year without consulting each other about our differences in memory.

And from Jeffrey, You Feel It Just Below the Ribs, an apocalyptic novel that takes place in the same universe as the Within the Wires podcast.

No matter what you're looking for, we've written a book just for you.

Find them where you find books.

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Call me Cecil.

Some months ago, never mind how long precisely, It came to Tamika Flynn to gather together some of her friends and make her way into the sand wastes.

Her target, the great librarian of the western sands.

This librarian was said to have escaped the Nightville Library decades ago, and in feeding on desert creatures and on the occasional unwary traveler, had grown to a size unknown to normal city-dwelling librarians.

These rumors had circulated as long as anyone could remember, and no one really believed that it was more than a campfire story to scare children.

And also adults, because it's just a really scary story.

The truth was that none of us wanted to believe it.

But Tamika Flynn had seen librarians.

She had looked in their eyes and into their flaring nostrils and their poisonous mouths.

And she had survived.

So she believed well that a librarian living for so long out in the great sand wastes could reach unprecedented size.

And she also believed that such a librarian posed an existential threat to the town of Nightvale.

So, she proposed an expedition.

A hunt for this great librarian.

The party that ventured forth under her command was small.

but brave.

There was Michelle Wynn and her stalwart girlfriend intern Maureen, who has asked me repeatedly to stop calling her intern since she hasn't been an intern in years, and also I never filled out the forms for class credit, ba ba ba ba ba.

But I say, once an intern, always an intern.

There was some guy named Joffin Dormer, who none of us knew, and it was kind of weird, but he really wanted to come along, so He was there.

Of course, there was me, Cecil Gershwin-Palmer, here to observe and to record.

And if trouble comes to it, run away.

I am not great in a fight.

We gathered our supplies and met up at Larry Leroy's house, out on the edge of town.

Larry was barbecuing in his backyard and he waved at us.

Y'all want some ribs?

He hollered, but Tamika wouldn't let us have even one rib, though they smelled great.

We have business today, she said, as she laid out our packs.

We carried with us, of course, water, food enough for 30 days, and weapons.

Heavy books that could be thrown at the librarian.

Tamika brought her copy of Ulysses Annotated, with which she has personally clobbered a hundred librarians.

It is approximately the size and weight of a Vespa, but with a lot more puns that require simultaneous knowledge of Greek myth and early 20th century Irish pop culture.

Tamika looked each of us in the eyes in turn.

She spoke in a steady and low voice, saying,

This is dangerous, what we set out to do.

And some of us might not come back.

In fact, I am certain at least one of us will not.

Are you sure you wish to accompany?

Well, Well, the truth is that I was no longer super sure, because that sounded pretty intense.

But then that guy Joffin was like, hell yeah, we're all in.

None of us are ever going to back down.

Which was a lot.

And I don't know why he was so enthusiastic, but after he said that, it, I don't know, it felt like I couldn't leave.

So I just kind of made a n

yes sound.

And Tamik was like, I'm sorry, did you just say n-yes?

And I said,

yeah?

And then Tamika said, fine, whatever.

And we hefted our packs and headed out into the dangers of the barren wilds.

As we went, Larry waved his grill tongs.

Y'all have fun out there, he called.

Last chance on that rib.

But Tamika still wouldn't let me go back, even just to to grab one rib.

In 1963, Thad Darius was taking a hike in the sand wastes outside of Night Vale.

Thad enjoyed night hiking, liked to wander with just the stars and the mysterious lights in the sky as his company.

He only did so on windless nights, so that when he was ready to return home, he could simply follow his footsteps back to his little cabin on the edge of town, which stood where the used car lot is now.

But on this night, Thad turned and his footsteps were gone because the sand was gone.

Behind him was only a broad absence, a crevasse at the edge of which he teetered.

It was only when the first rank air poured out from the librarian's lungs that he realized he was standing on the lip of its gaping mouth.

He screamed and tried to run, but he wasn't fast enough.

Thad was devoured.

and never lived to tell anyone what he saw.

How do I know this story?

I have no idea.

They say the great librarian of the Western Sands has read every book in the Nightvale Library, and this knowledge only made it more hungry.

They say that each of its teeth are the size of a 1987 Plymouth Voyager, but shaped more like a tooth than a van.

They say its spine is the length of Route 900, that its eyes are the size of the sky, that it smells like the sharp smoke of a burning burning wilderness, and sounds like a sinkhole collapsing.

So not that different from a normal librarian, but obviously bigger.

I have studied this creature extensively.

Every battle is first fought on the page, and then it is fought with this page, because my weapons are all books.

Dangerous books.

Many of them with poisonous barbs.

I will not fail in my task.

So far we had failed in our task.

Dune Dune after empty dune, desert grass rustling in a slight breeze.

Tamika led the way, single-minded and fearless.

She strode in long steps that we hurried to match, up one slope, down another.

Michelle gave me some snacks, since it turns out

I actually forgot to pack food.

Oopsie.

I knew there was something I was forgetting.

I was like, okay, portable radio broadcasting setup, check.

Expedition beanie, check.

My stylish teal waiters, check.

But there was something I should be remembering.

And it

turned out there was.

It was any food at all for this multi-day expedition.

Fortunately, Michelle, along with being an expert on record collecting and avant-garde noise collectives, is also an expert at desert survival and foraging.

She told me, yeah,

whatever, just something I picked up in art school, no big deal.

Now, eat this flower.

It tastes like a walnut and will also cure you of scarlet fever, if you happen to have that.

Meanwhile, her girlfriend Maureen used a series of kites to imitate the flights of small desert birds in the hopes of attracting the predatory librarian.

And Joffin Dormer, well,

he was there too.

I don't know who he really is or what his deal is, but he seemed friendly enough.

That evening, I suggested perhaps we return to Night Vale, at least until the morning.

There was no sign of the great beast, and anyway, At home I have frozen waffles and fruit and

stuff,

which sounded a lot better than eating nettles and cactus roots.

Tamika shook her head, not even looking in my direction, staring out into the starlit dunes.

It's close, she said.

I know it.

It won't escape me.

And even as she spoke, I heard

something

enormous shift in the night distance.

I cannot say for sure what it was, but its movement shook the earth and vibrated our jaws.

Tamika nodded, satisfied.

Tomorrow,

we will find it,

she said.

First thing the next morning, and I was on the hunt, eyeing the sands for tracks.

A librarian track is easy to spot.

It is a scorched furrow that smells sour and metallic and emits enough radiation to to prickle the hairs of the arms.

As we walked, I remembered the first time I had seen a librarian.

My parents had taken me to the public library when I was nine years old.

It was a rite of passage.

We all have to confront dangerous things eventually, and my parents believed that I should do so under their guidance.

They showed me how to use a bowie knife and then they took me to the reference section.

The aisle was long and shadowed and lined with books.

I stood in awe.

I had never seen so many books.

Books containing every subject imaginable.

I still never left Nightvale.

I might never leave Nightvale.

But even at nine, I knew the world was waiting for me in the pages that filled the shelves that filled that building.

And I loved the library.

I loved it the way I loved my parents.

unquestioning and absolute.

And then

I saw something else in that aisle.

A monster I could hardly comprehend, let alone describe at such a young age.

And I knew that there were things in this world that wanted to stop me from learning.

That these librarians squatted on their piles of books, jealously guarding the world from me, and I wouldn't let them win.

But here we were in the sand wastes.

on the hunt.

I spent most of my day fruitlessly wandering, trying to find our quarry, but once again, like yesterday, nothing.

Perhaps Cecil was right.

Perhaps we should go back to Nightmare, even if just for the night.

I said so to Cecil, and he nodded.

Crying with the stars is on tonight, he said.

It's the finals.

Billy Cruddup versus Dido.

I'd hate to miss it.

Which was his gentle way of saying that it was okay that I failed.

That I am failing,

that I am allowing myself to be a failure.

But before we could get back in time for the opening weep number of Crying with the Stars, Joffin Dormer stepped forward and said, no, we shall not retreat.

All of us came to this desert for a reason.

And we would betray our ambitions to merely withdraw because of minor setbacks.

We must make proud our best versions of ourselves and

which is as far as he got before the great librarian of the Western Sands, attracted by the noise of his voice, burst out of the ground and ate him in one gulp.

To the family and friends of Joffin Dormer.

Don't know a lot about him, but he seems fine, I guess.

Just like a normal guy.

Until he was eaten.

Yeah.

Sorry about your guy.

But even after eating Joffin, the librarian was not sated.

And it turned upon the rest of us, bellowing.

The sound shook the very air around us.

And the last thing I saw as the librarian reached for me was the sky, the clouds, and the weather.

I don't wanna be human.

I don't wanna feel.

I don't wanna be human.

I don't wanna be real.

I don't wanna be famous.

I don't wanna be seen.

I don't wanna be invisible to you.

I don't know what I mean.

Let them

rain,

let them run away.

I just wanna feel our life for.

I don't wanna see.

One, two, three, four.

Colors are the people.

Get them out of your head.

Colors are the people.

Something that rather be dead.

Something that rather be dead.

Something I'd rather be dead.

Sometimes I'd try to feel alive and

get you out of my bed.

Why do you people burn?

Who am I without poison?

Release the poison.

Who am I without poison?

Release the poison.

Get it out of my head.

get it all,

get it out of my head,

get it out of my head.

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The librarian roared and screeched and squawked.

It engulfed us with its body.

With its tail, it seized Michelle.

And with one claw, it seized Maureen.

And with its other claw, it seized Cecil and it held them above me.

Each of my friends squirming, trying futilely to escape.

I could try to save them, perhaps, but it was my one chance to strike a fatal blow against the librarian.

I was compelled to do so, even if it meant the end of all my friends who had joined me on this ill-fated hunt.

I held aloft my copy of Ulysses and I screamed, From hell's heart I stab at thee!

Which is a reference to a famous literary literary work if you didn't know.

It's a quote from Push, the novelization of the movie Precious, based on Push by Sapphire.

Below me rippled acres of strange flesh, scales and feathers and pinkish patches like raw meat.

And in the center of it, a watery blue eye.

as wide across as the entire public library of Night Vale.

I stared down into that eye and the eye stared back.

And in that eye, I saw a deep, insatiable hunger.

A hunger for knowledge.

A hunger for discovery.

A hunger for as much of this world as this world was able to give.

And I knew that there was little difference between me and this librarian.

Sure, I don't eat people, but hadn't I come to this desert to hunt and to kill?

Didn't I contain the same bottomless hunger?

What gave me the right to say that the librarian did not have the same right to to live?

Am I the arbitrator of life and death?

Or am I just still that young girl staring down the library aisle and realizing that everything I would ever know was contained in those walls?

In the great eye of the great beast, I saw a mutual recognition.

Perhaps I did not need to fear the librarians.

And perhaps they did not need to fear the librarian hunter.

Perhaps a truce was possible, even necessary.

So I put down my book, Go in peace, I said.

The librarian blinked once.

Twice.

The wind from the passing of its eyelids ruffling my hair.

And then it laid down Cecil and Michelle and Maureen,

and it departed over the dunes.

I did not watch it go.

I turned and I started the long walk home.

I would never again hunt librarians.

Huh.

Well, I don't get it.

It looked like Tamika totally had a clear shot, but then she just kind of gave up.

For no reason.

That was disappointing.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm so glad I did not die at the hands of a fearsome librarian.

But still,

we had a goal.

And I hate leaving goals unfinished.

Oh well.

Maybe we'll try again next year.

So, this has been the first news item, and oh wow, how long have we been talking?

Oh, I have to get through the rest of today's broadcast.

I only have a minute to do it.

Okay.

In other news, Nightvale was lifted into the sky by a massive spacecraft and then put back in place with every building ordered by height.

So that will be convenient for finding your way around.

Just think, how tall is the place that I want to go?

And head there.

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Okay, community calendar.

Bunch of stuff this week.

But let's be honest, you're not going to any of those events, are you?

Nah, you're going to stay home and binge-watch a show you only sort of like.

So, doesn't really matter.

Okay,

sorry.

Almost out of time.

Children's Fun Fact Science Corner.

The earth is technically technically a fruit, although a poisonous one.

Traffic, roads looking clear out there, almost completely transparent.

No one can see them, and there have been several crashes, and I think that's it.

That's the broadcast.

Stay tuned next for salt-fat-acid heat.

Not on your radio, in your home.

In that order.

It's going to be a weird five minutes.

Good night, Nightvale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents.

It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by Disparition.

The voice of Tamika Flynn was Symphony Sanders.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition.

All of it can be found at disparition.bandcamp.com.

This episode's weather was Hell is Other People by Bangs.

Find out more at bangs.bandcamp.com.

That's Bangs, spelled with Twosies.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio or make like a tree and leaf.

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Make like a tree and leaves.

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Check out welcometonightvale.com for info about our Night Vale novel, The Faceless Old Woman Who Lives in Your Home, which is part ghost story, part pirate adventure, all Night Vale, and our upcoming tour of the West Coast and Southwest.

Today's proverb, step on a crack, break your mother's back, is I guess how the body works.

I don't know, I didn't go to medical school.

I'm Amy Nicholson, the film critic for the LA Times.

And I'm Paul Scheer, an actor, writer, and director.

You might know know me from the League Veep or my non-eligible for Academy Award role in Twisters.

We love movies, and we come at them from different perspectives.

Yeah, like Amy thinks that, you know, Joe Pesci was miscast in Goodfellas, and I don't.

He's too old.

Let's not forget that Paul thinks that Dune 2 is overrated.

It is.

Anyway, despite this, we come together to host Unspooled, a podcast where we talk about good movies, critical hits, fan favorites, must-season, and case you missed them.

We're talking Parasite the Home Alone, From Greece to the Dark Knight.

We've done deep dives on popcorn flicks.

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Listen to Unspooled wherever you get your podcasts.

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And on our new show, The Best Worst, we explore the golden age of television.

To do that, we're watching the IMDb viewer-rated best and worst episodes of classic TV shows.

The episode of Star Trek, where Beverly Crusher has sex with a ghost, the episode of The X-Files, where Skelly gets attacked by a vicious house cat, and also the really good episodes, too.

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