205 - The Moon Is Gone

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.

Okay, bye!

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One day you will die.

Not true.

It will likely take several days.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Well, it happened again.

We lost track of the dang moon.

It was right there last night, doing its thing.

And then tonight, nothing.

There's just kind of a hole in the sky between the stars, full of static.

It's upsetting to look at, actually.

Every time I glance up there, I feel a lurch of nausea and a taste in my mouth like hot metal.

I wasn't the moon's biggest fan.

I had been known to call it that big dumb space rock and advocate for us to, quote, toss it out of our orbit unless it wants to start paying rent.

But still,

even I have to admit that it had its role to play in the dark, in the night.

Certainly it was better than what's happening now.

No,

I don't like that static in the sky one

bit.

We asked the Nightfall Astronomical Society since they did renovations on the moon recently, But Society President Linda Suarez swore that they had nothing to do with it.

We didn't break the moon!

She screamed into the phone before I had a chance to say a word.

We didn't do it, okay?

You can't prove we did.

Then she hung up.

So it sounds like they had nothing to do with it.

More soon on the missing moon, as long as it remains missing.

Ah!

Ah!

Sorry.

I looked at the staticky hole in the sky again.

Oh,

my nose is bleeding, and there's a ringing in my ears that is, if I'm not mistaken, a perfect C sharp.

Yeah,

got to remember not to do that.

But first, the news.

Olive Garden has announced a buy one, get none special, in which you will give them your money and then they will take your money.

Transaction done.

This limited time deal will run until they can't find any more people that will agree to it, at which point they will move on to their next deal.

Their next deal is, give us money or else.

And they expect that one to be a smash hit.

Obviously the entire restaurant industry has been struggling.

This is because they have to cook for a bunch of people, all of whom want different things to eat.

It's exhausting, said Trey Holmes, Olive Garden Night Manager.

Pasta, breadsticks, soup even.

And we have to cook all of it, even if we don't feel like it.

Trey concluded, spitting on the sidewalk and looking up at the strange circle of static where once there was a moon.

The moment his eyes met the static, he fell to the ground pale and shivering, and our reporter had to step over him to get back into the olive garden.

The olive garden would also like to announce a celebrity endorsement.

They say that the woman from from Italy will be there, although they don't know when and there is nothing we can do to prepare for her coming.

The press release ends with the following message.

The woman from Italy will soon be returning, offering new shades of pain, invisible pain past human discerning.

The woman from Italy spares only the dead, so resign yourself to torment and unlimited salad and bread.

Sounds great.

And now an editorial about tip etiquette.

First off, tip and tip well.

I don't want to hear another word on this.

We owe each other a great deal and we owe the people in the service industry the most.

Second, if you are listening in one of the many civilized countries that simply pay workers a living wage rather than tipping, such as Switz, the United Kingdom, and Narnia, then you are excused from the next minute or so of my broadcast.

But you are not excused from the basic principle of living generously.

So, let's get into it.

A good tip starts at 25%.

It starts there.

If you tip with one of those fake 20s that are actually just religious or inspirational pamphlets, then the server is allowed to do one free murder on you.

No questions asked.

You never tip trees.

It should be obvious why, but in case it's not, money is often made from trees.

This would be like someone trying to pay you with a human spleen, so just don't tip trees.

It is standard to tip your dentist 10% of your remaining teeth.

You should tip birds.

Have you not been tipping birds?

Oh god, that is embarrassing.

When dying, always tip the mortician 15% of your lifespan.

It helps her to stay young.

This has been Tip Tips.

Okay, seriously, have any of you seen the moon?

I've been looking for that thing for what must be hours, and it's just not anywhere.

I checked the sky, of course, and there was only that circle of static which made me feel...

Made me feel.

I guess I don't have another word.

It just made me feel.

All capital letters followed by an emphatic period.

I hate it more than I hated the moon.

And I hated the moon a lot.

I also checked around town to see if the moon had maybe fallen down.

or been removed for cleaning.

But it doesn't seem to be around and no one is sure what happened to it.

Linda Suarez, president of the Nightvale Astronomical Society, called me back and started shouting as soon as I picked up before I had even said hello.

Well, it wasn't me.

I didn't do it, she yelled.

I tried to explain that I had never said she had, and that I didn't even know what it she could have done in this context, but she just shouted, My conscience is clear.

Print that in your newspaper.

And then hung up before I could explain that I run a radio show, not a newspaper.

I consulted with my husband Carlos, who is a scientist, by the way.

I've not mentioned that before, I don't think, but it's a very important job.

Anyway, he said that he has no idea.

Because he has been playing Elden Ring for 22 to 23 hours a day and hasn't really gotten outside much.

I suggested we could maybe take a walk, have a little us time,

and also he could gaze up at the hole in the sky where once there was a moon, and now there's only static.

And he said, sure, that sounded fun, but he really thinks he almost has this boss.

So maybe in a couple of hours after he's beaten it.

More soon, I'm sure, on this moon situation.

It'll work out.

Eventually.

Maybe not well, but all situations do end

Somehow.

My former intern Karim called me today.

Great guy.

Good worker.

Not like interns today.

Interns today don't want to work at all.

They're always like, ooh,

every intern before me has died.

I don't want to die.

I'm going to flee into the desert instead of doing the filing like I was asked to do.

Well,

okay, Carol.

If every intern before you has died, then why is Karim still around, making very confusing calls to me?

See, he said that he wasn't even Karim, or not the Karim I knew.

He said that he has spent every waking hour trying to find Night Vale, but it doesn't appear on any map.

Then Karim started saying that I had his family and I must return them, which seemed rude.

I only have one family and you can't have them.

Unless Esteban is throwing one of his tantrums, in which case you are welcome to borrow him for a few minutes until he winds it up.

While I was talking to Karim on the phone, I also saw Karim standing on the street outside, so I hung up on him mid-rant and I went out to ask, what gives?

Especially since he did not appear to be on the phone with me.

He told me not to worry about it.

That guy just doesn't get it, he said, shaking his head sadly.

So I shook my head too,

even though I wasn't quite sure what we were shaking our heads about.

Then Kareem said he had to go, and I said, oh, yeah, me too.

And then we nodded awkwardly for a few beats before kind of walking in opposite directions.

See, Carol, not only is Kareem alive, it looks like there might be two of him.

He's doing great.

There's no need to hide out in the wasteland.

Your internship will find you.

And now a word from our sponsors.

These are difficult times.

We all feel sad every day.

The walls feel bleak.

Were the walls always this bleak?

Why does the sun through the window now feel cold?

It's like an imitation of the sun done badly and without verve.

Were our hands always this flappy and useless?

What did food taste like back when food tasted of anything at all?

The air still circulates, but the smell is always the same, stale,

nothing.

Jeep.

Buy a jeep, okay?

This has been a word from our sponsors.

No leads on where that dang moon went.

I've been demanding answers from everyone around me, but no dice.

Every time I look at it, that staticky hole where the moon once was, it just looks

wrong.

Fundamentally and fully.

And there seems to be faint radio signals coming from the static, not enough to decipher, but like something is trying to reach out and communicate something horrible that has stolen our moon.

There is sentience behind this.

I can feel it.

What kind of sentience would do this to us?

I can only imagine.

And I'm imagining real scary stuff, and then I'm getting scared, so

that's where I'm at.

Hope you're doing better than me.

More soon on the missing moon.

and on me scaring myself by thinking scary thoughts.

And now it's time for Health Minute.

People often fear sleep paralysis, but don't worry, the name is misleading.

Actually, you are wide awake the entire time.

There you are in the darkness, and you are awake, but you can't move, but you are awake.

It feels as though you are buried alive.

Oxygen feels like a thick gel, difficult to breathe.

You wonder if your lungs still work.

Are your lungs working?

Are they working right now?

Are you sure?

In the darkness you see the coat you hung on the door.

You know it is the coat, but it is also a man.

The man is hanging from the door.

He is your coat, but he is also a hanging man.

You try to remember if it is possible for there to be a man hanging from your door, but you have just awakened from a dream and everything feels possible in the worst way.

The only thing you can move is one of your fingers, and only a little.

You desperately wiggle that finger, trying to use it to wrench the rest of your body into the real world, where you can move and there is not a man hanging from your door.

Only a few seconds have passed, but time exists merely within our own perception, and you will perceive this time as several minutes at least.

Finally, your finger will awaken the rest of your nerves, and you will lurch into motion, gasping.

Your coat is still your coat, but for the rest of the night, you will be unable to stop seeing it as also a man hanging from your door.

So, that's all sleep paralysis really is.

No need to worry.

This has been Health Minute.

Listeners, I don't know how to describe what I'm seeing, but I must, for without my words, how would you interpret the world?

So, I will look up at that hideous, staticky hole in the sky.

The static is opening like Venetian blinds in a cheap motel, crooked and unsteady, and something is emerging.

What could it be?

Some new god, not yet known to our Earth?

An alien craft transporting beings of astonishing structure?

We may never know because...

Oh, okay.

All right.

According to my producer, they're sending out a radio signal.

Yes, okay.

Let's put them on.

This is Radio Jupiter.

My,

how the earth is beautiful.

The clouds swirling just so.

The traces of every kind of weather.

He loves the snow

because he never gets cold.

Eleven crazy loose hero.

He'll say, baby, open the window.

And he loves the mountains.

Cause he can work up anyone that he chooses.

No panic.

No gasping for air and old tearful blanksters.

While I'm stuck at the bottom,

wrapped up in blankets, waiting for the pictures.

I'm holding the anguish up, never quite catching up, never feeling not enough for anyone.

I lost any hide and I'll keep track of time.

Wait for him to come home.

I'm sure he is fine, and I'll never stop why.

And when he comes back, he won't be mine

anymore.

But he loves to hurt you.

And he'll find me the death.

But he'd rather have me

a mess up in that than anyone else, I guess.

Oh, he'll find me the death,

swearing to me that I'm perfect.

Well, he's perfect.

Cause he's good at everything.

Right off the bat when he's hurting.

He shrugs it all off like it's nothing at all.

And I'm manic

depressive and anxious, not strong, or courageous.

It's tragic

that he chose to carry the weight of my sadness all high on his shoulders.

When it gets easier, he doesn't have answers.

But he'll lend me a t-shirt and rub me in blankets.

Swearing to me that I'm perfect

and I don't deserve it.

But he looks at me,

and all that he sees

is undying love from the girl of his dreams.

And I look to him, and my legs start to give.

Always so desperate for his reassurance.

But he looks at me,

and all that he sees is his colours and the sun through the trees.

And I

look to him,

and I see the world as I couldn't

before

him.

And it's perfect.

And as long as I've lived, I've never found something so

perfect.

Hey, it's Jeffrey Kraner with a word from our sponsor.

You're on a desert island, but not a deserted island.

Someone else is there.

Something else is there.

In the water, surrounding you, lurks a mythical beast with two large eyes and many long arms.

You're just now hearing of this beast, but you're not afraid because you don't plan to swim.

Though that water looks nice, you're good at talking yourself into things, and soon you are in the sea, frolicking and splashing.

You even squeal, thinking you're all alone.

But you forgot what I just said.

You're not alone.

Something wraps itself around you.

It lifts you high in the air, waving you about at dizzying heights.

You look down and see the mythical kraken.

You start to scream, but in its other tentacles are bottles of kraken black spiced rum and kraken gold spiced rum.

I love kraken rum, you say.

It's bold, smooth, and made with a blend of spices.

You high-five the beast as it sets you back down on the island, along with the bottles of kraken rum.

It winks and tells you kraken rum is ideal for Halloween cocktails and disappears back into the dark, briny depths.

Visit the official sponsor of Welcome to Night Vale, Kraken Rum.com to release the Kraken this Halloween.

Copyright 2025, Kraken Rum Company, Kraken Rum.com.

Like the deepest sea, the Kraken should be treated with great respect and responsibility.

You chose to hit play on this podcast today.

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This is Radio Jupiter calling out to all listening ears.

I am back from the beyond, from wandering the the endless.

I saw wondrous things.

Trails of vapor longer than the combined lives of every human who has ever lived.

Galaxies brimming with stars, stars brimming with planets, planets brimming with the first bloomings of life.

There is a finite amount of beauty we will ever see.

Just as there is a finite amount of anything we will ever see.

Everything about us is finite.

Everything within us is infinite.

I was sent into space as a warrior.

To fight for a cause I did not understand.

To defend a flag I didn't quite believe in.

I cast aside my weapons and became an explorer.

Now I cast off my exploration and return home.

I'm sorry about your moon.

It will be back.

I think.

I needed to tunnel through space, and the moon was a convenient place to put my portal.

It should be back.

Probably.

It will be back.

I did not think I would be back.

And yet.

Life is a whole lot of and yets.

Each of our lives is a series of temporary situations that never fully resolve themselves until, one day,

all at once and simultaneously, all of them do.

The problem, of course, is that we compare our current state, which must be temporary, to some imagined perfect state, which we imagine will be our forever.

But there is no perfect state.

There is only a series of current states.

But I get ahead of myself.

I lose my point.

This is Radio Jupiter, cleared for landing.

Looking forward to meeting you.

Or seeing you again?

Or whatever the case may be.

I mean you no harm.

Please never take me to your leader.

That sounds like a lot of stress.

Well,

there you have it.

All this time I was so worked up about the moon, like, oh no.

The moon has been replaced with a staticky void that vibrates my spine whenever I look at it.

Whatever will we do?

And it was just a simple portal through the universe so that a lost astronaut explorer could return.

I look forward to meeting this Radio Jupiter, whatever her name may be.

Unless her name is just Radio Jupiter.

In which case I apologize for assuming otherwise.

Problem solved.

I guess.

I mean, the moon is still gone.

And the staticky void is lingering and it's making my teeth itch.

And my eyeballs retch, but I'm sure that will fade with time.

I hope so.

Or otherwise I'll just...

never go outside at night again.

Which would be fine, really.

Listen, hey, don't worry about it.

There are so many other things to worry about.

So many,

many

worrisome things.

Stay tuned next for a voice counting down slowly from 30 to 1.

What will happen when it reaches one?

I have no idea.

Ooh, so thrilling.

And from ow!

Sorry.

Sorry, I accidentally looked at the sky again.

And from me to you,

ow.

Good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Nightvale Presents.

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

The voice of Nightvale is Cecil Baldwin.

The voice of Radio Jupiter was Robin Virgini.

Original music by Disparition.

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

This episode's weather was Us in the Woods by Birds of Fay.

Find out more on their Twitter at Birdsof Fay.

That's spelled F-A-E.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio or try to teach the tiny human who lives in your home everything there is to know about everything.

Check out welcometonightvale.com for info about our nightvale novel, The Faceless Old Woman Who Lives in Your Home, which is part ghost story, part pirate adventure, all nightvale.

Today's proverb.

Look up the video of the guy who voices Mario, explaining how he auditioned for the job.

It's delightful.

Okay, y'all have fun out there.

Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other.

When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a four-litre jug.

When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping.

Oh, come on.

They called it truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip.

Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.

Whatever.

You were made to outdo your holidays.

We were made to help organize the competition.

Expedia, made to travel.

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

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

You might 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-sees, and in 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, we've talked about why Independence Day deserves a second look, and we've talked about horror movies, some that you've never even heard of, like Kanja and Hess.

So, if you love movies like we do, come along on our cinematic adventure.

Listen to Unspooled wherever you get your podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Hi, I'm here to tell you about Good Morning Night Vale.

Welcome to Night Vale's official recap show and unofficial best friend food podcast.

Join me, Meg Bashwiner, and fellow tri-hosts, Hal Lublin and Symphony Sanders, as we dissect all of the cool, squishy, and slimy bits of every episode of Welcome to Night Vale.

Come for the insightful and hilarious commentary, and stay for all of the weird and wild behind-the-scenes stories.

Good morning, Nightfale, with new episodes every other Thursday.

Get it wherever you get your podcasts.

Yes, even there.