200 - Susan Willman Comes Clean

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Who is that tap tapping, tap-tapping in my walls?

I hear someone rap-rapping, rap-rapping in my walls.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Most of you know Susan Willman.

Used to be a

valued member of the PTA?

Then she had that encounter with the obelisk and, ever since, has made a real spectacle of herself about town, sitting in the diner for hours on end with cold, empty eyes and trudging through the scrublands and the sand wastes, the wind making her hair swirl strange behind her.

It's like, could you try harder to get attention?

Well, apparently, yes, because Susan Wilman is here at the radio station and says that it is time for her to come clean.

I have no idea what she means.

Um, maybe she was embezzling funds from the PTA?

Wait, was that Susan?

Were you embezzling funds?

Yeah, that's probably it.

Anyway, I told her we'd do our best to get her on the air, but no promises, you know?

The world doesn't stop for Susan Willman.

We have news and sponsored spots to get to, and I'm going to get to them right now.

Maybe Susan can talk a bit later.

Maybe.

A lot of you have been asking about Koshak, and I am heartbroken to say he's still missing.

I just can't think where he could have gone to, given that he could not move from his spot four feet in the air in the bathroom here at the station.

I put up posters around town, but I keep finding them slashed to ribbons with, do not look for us, in an unfamiliar scrawl across his picture.

If anyone has any information on my sweet little kitty, we are all very worried.

He's elderly and also extraordinarily toxic to the touch.

Be careful.

In other news, The artificial star that was generated in the underground pulsar development facility some 10 years ago has continued to be a clean and nearly inexhaustible source of energy.

This energy is exclusively used to power the lights at the high school football stadium.

These lights have been described as painfully bright, so searingly bright that they render vision functionally useless, and basically worse than if we just played football in total darkness.

However, this fantastically successful city program is not without its critics.

Leanne Hart, editor of the Nightvale Daily Journal, publishes editorials weekly calling for the closing of the Pulsar facility, citing the brutally high cost of maintenance and the fact that, quote, stars are dumb and we shouldn't have to depend on them.

John Peters, you know, the farmer, also stages protests a few times a year.

As the biggest landowner in town, he pays millions in taxes that go directly to the pulsar.

Listen, he said, I'm all for taxes.

I just don't think we should be paying them.

I want the benefits of society without the responsibilities.

Hold on, don't quote me on that.

Let me find a better way to phrase it.

Unfortunately, he never did find a better way to phrase it, and so his protests have had limited impact.

Listeners, what do you think?

Should the pulsar be allowed to continue generating power?

And should that power be used for other things besides the high school stadium?

For instance,

the little train that kids ride in Grove Park probably uses a lot of energy.

We'd love to hear what you have to say on the issue.

Simply send a letter addressed to Cecil, radio station, Earth, and I'm sure it'll find its way to me.

Well,

Susan is still here.

She keeps making a lot of declarative statements.

I am this.

I am that.

Like, okay, Susan, I am getting bored.

And I have a lot more radio to get through before you can just pop on the mic, like you have the training to do so.

Do you know how long I spent interning with the former host Leonard Burton before I got to take over this important community position?

Years.

That's how long.

Years.

And years.

An impossible number of years.

An amount of years that makes me feel cold and panicked when I think about it.

According to Malcolm Gladwell, in order to become a master at something, you must practice it until the thought of doing it even a minute longer makes you scream and break down sobbing.

So, okay,

now you want to skip all that and get right to broadcasting?

Yeah, sure, okay, we'll see.

Unfortunately, my producer tells me that since this is a community radio station, the community in fact owns it.

And as Susan is a member of that community, she is one of its owners.

So, she has a right to broadcast when requested.

Of course, I wouldn't think of standing in her way.

There are just a few things we have to get to first.

No action is without consequence.

I am the destroyer.

Okay, yes.

Okay, Susan.

Just hold on.

First, we have a public service announcement.

The moon will be closed for renovations this week, paid for by the Nightvale Astronomical Society.

The society raised the funds through a series of bake sales and Ponzi schemes, and are pleased to announce that work will commence imminently.

Most designers agree that the moon's look is extremely dated and that it is about time for a refresh.

Ugh, that old thing?

said Astronomical Society President Linda Suarez.

It's like white and cratery.

Oh wow, what is this?

2002?

Do you plan to also put on a Von Dutch trucker hat and some true religion jeans?

No, this new look will be clean and modern.

Workers will be reaching the moon using what the society describes as, quote, a pretty tall ladder.

And that, quote, we think it's probably tall enough.

I mean, it looks tall enough to you, right?

The society asks that you do not look at or think about the moon during this time.

This has been a public service announcement.

And now a word from our sponsors.

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Okay, I'm sorry, I don't know if you can hear this, but Susan Willman is shouting something at me through the glass.

It sounds like I am the destroyer?

Yes, Susan, if what you're talking about destroying is the pristine quiet I expect to accompany my broadcasts, then yes, you are.

Oh, this is so distracting.

Okay, listen.

I'm gonna try to be nicer.

I got a text from my brother-in-law, Steve Carlsberg.

Lovely man, won't hear a word said against him, but he told me that there have been times that people have said hurtful things about him publicly, on this radio station, even, and it was difficult for him.

He thinks that no matter how annoying Susan Willman is, she deserves some basic human respect.

And fair enough.

Susan, I am sorry.

I deeply apologize.

Okay, now she has opened her mouth wider than I thought possible, and black smoke is pouring out of her.

Uh, that's deeply inconsiderate.

I take back my apology, and now she's shouting something else.

Wait, what is that?

She's saying, I'm not who you think I am.

I have become other.

Well, she still looks like Susan to me, and I can tell by those beige shoes.

And now for Cecil's Media Corner.

I think we all agree on what media is for.

It's for reinforcing our worldviews via simple morality tales portrayed with as little ambiguity as possible, and hopefully a couple of explosions just to keep it from being boring.

What media is not for is teaching us anything new, or exposing us to novel forms of thought, or showing us how it is to live as a different type of person.

And you know why it's not for that?

Because of the children.

Won't you think of the children?

What if they see something that they, literal children, don't immediately understand?

What if any aspect of our cultural stories isn't instantly graspable by actual children?

How would I explain that to them?

By sitting down in the same room as them and talking to them about it?

Ugh, no.

It's just better and easier if we make all of our media only fit what a five-year-old child who has never been exposed to anything outside of his immediate neighborhood will understand instantly and without further explanation.

It's called decency.

Look it up in a dictionary, which is a book full of words I don't understand and refuse to learn.

This has been Cecil's Media Corner.

Susan Willman is standing outside of my booth, waving her arms and shouting, Yes, Susan, I see you.

I'm sorry, but once you resigned from the PTA, you forfeited any say in what, okay, I think she's coming in.

Um,

her eyes have gone empty, like the deepest reaches of space have infested her skull, and her mouth is still emanating a thick fog.

I think it's time that we hear her out.

Uh, more on whatever that will be after the weather.

Oh, no, no, no, not yet!

I am Hantokar, the destroyer.

You have already been destroyed.

You just don't know it yet.

Love

to

fall

around

when you now can believe.

down

here can drown

waves

away.

Oh the

way

No more

to

fire

burning down

and breathe

down

you can drown

away.

Or the everywhere.

Over the

way.

Over the

way.

You can drown kind of waves, but doom is so hard, so why not?

Choose to sink, choose to swim.

Look at waves coming in.

Hope

we

die

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

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

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I was born Susan Willman in 1975 at Nightvale General Hospital to Edward and Donna Willman.

I was born Hunt Ocar in the mud womb before the universe.

Both of these things are true.

Once, I was merely Susan.

And then I communed with the obelisk.

And I learned its name.

Its name rattled around inside me, and gradually, I found myself changed.

Time slipped away from me.

Hours and days no longer meant anything at all.

I was removed from the burden of chronology, and I found I had always been.

Yes, I was stillborn Susan Willman, but also

I had always been, since before the first scrawling of history.

Both of these things are true.

I am the destroyer.

You have already been destroyed.

You just don't know it yet.

Cecil hates me because Susan Willman was annoying to him.

Fine.

Susan Willman hated Cecil because Cecil was annoying to her.

These things were once true.

But they do not matter.

Not since I was lost to my former self.

spread out through the years.

I am simultaneously at the beginning and the end of time.

It's Sears

being this scattered.

I remember as Susan worrying about the little things, PTA meetings, bake sales, my hobby building gaming PCs and then selling them on Reddit.

I remember as Huntocar, worrying about the little things.

The scrambling creatures building the town that would be Night Vale.

Their worship with meat crowns and bloodstone circles, the tiresome century-by-century life of a god.

These sit equally in my head.

They are both me as I transform from one creature into another.

I will miss Susan Woolman.

She was a good person,

doing her best.

She had friends and a family and a life, which is all one can ask for.

But in many ways,

she is already gone.

Instead, there is me, who once saw the disaster and attempted to save her town, and instead,

cast it into a kind of hell.

I was, of all of us, the only good one.

But it was I who would end up truly destroying them.

I don't know when you will hear the story.

I'd tell it to you now,

but it may surface anywhere in my timeline.

Perhaps some lizards a million years before the first sapient species will hear my murmuring and think it thunder.

Or perhaps I'm speaking now into the tedious void of the universe at heat death.

It little matters when this story will be heard, which listeners will listen to it.

A story is never for the listener.

It is always for the one who tells.

So let me me begin.

This is a story about Huntokar,

said a voice on the radio.

A voice you had never heard before.

Though she has been speaking to you, though she has been speaking to you,

she has been speaking to you.

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

It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craner and produced by Dispirition.

The voice of Hunto Carr was Tina Parker.

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 No Ordinary Waves by Le Plaisier.

Find out more at leplisierband.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio or take a long shower and think about your favorite songs.

Check out WelcometonNightvale.com for info about everything we do.

Thanks for listening to 200 episodes of our show.

Today's Proverb.

It turns out the loneliest number is actually 331.

No one knows why, but it's true.

Thanks for listening to episode 200.

Stick around for a couple more minutes for an excerpt from our latest Patreon bonus episode featuring Steve Carlsberg and Cecil Gershwin-Palmer answering your questions.

If you want to join our Patreon, head on over to patreon.com slash welcome to nightvale.

And now, here's the fun.

Let's get to the first question.

Hey there, Cecil.

I've been watching a lot of cartoons this year for comfort.

Do you have some favorite cartoons from your past that you remember?

Tell us a bit about them.

Oh,

um,

well, there's this one I used to watch all the time.

I I don't know what it's called because it never had a title card and it showed up at random times on the local community access station.

But it was about this cute little dog and he would go on all sorts of adventures.

For instance, one time he climbed into a hole and stayed there all afternoon, even when it started to rain, and the hole filled with water.

Glub glub, he said in the hole.

Glub glub!

That was a great one.

Oh, then there was another one where he was at home, and he was supposed to go to his grandfather's room down the hall.

But he didn't want to go to his grandfather's room down the hall.

The hall stretched so long and so dark, and the door at the end was shut tight.

I'm scared, the little dog cried.

But no one heard him.

And he shook because he could wait and he could yell.

But someday he would have to go to his grandfather's room down the hall.

Ah, thanks for bringing back those memories.

I really missed that show.

Whatever it was called.

Okay, next question.

This one's for Steve.

Bake off, you and Cecil.

Who wins?

Cecil has some wonderful qualities.

His resonant voice, his sense of fashion.

Oh, if you could see the spats he's wearing right now.

Oh, boy.

And he's a lovely father and uncle.

But Cecil is no baker.

Why, one time he tried to make scones, and sorry, this always makes me laugh.

He used butter

and sugar.

Can you imagine?

And scones?

Needless to say, they turned out a crumbly sweet mess.

Now, there's one baker in this family, and it's me.

Although I have to say that Janice is really coming along in that area.

Why, yesterday she made muffins that set my eyes watering.

I could not be prouder of that girl.

Embarrassing, but probably true.

Thanks once again for listening, y'all.

Patreon.com/slash welcome to nightfall for more bonus episodes.

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 Unschooled, 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 Grease 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.

Are you squeamish about horror movies, but kind of want to know what happens?

Or are you a horror lover who likes thoughtful conversation about your favorite genre?

Join me, Jeffrey Kraner, and my friend from Welcome to Nightville, Cecil Baldwin, for our weekly podcast, Random Number Generator Horror Podcast Number 9, where we watch and discuss horror movies in a random order.

Find, here's the short version, Random Horror Nine wherever you get your podcasts.

Boo.