198 - Them Woods Are a Maze

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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There's only one place where history, culture, and adventure meet on the National Mall.

Where museum days turn to electric lights.

Where riverside sunrises glow and monuments shine in moonlight.

Where there's something new for everyone to discover.

There's only one DC.

Visit washington.org to plan your trip.

Those who live in glass houses should at least hang curtains around their bathroom.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, let's talk about community.

Too often we stay in our little neighborhoods with our doors and windows closed, cameras on our porches, signs in our yards that say, keep out, Todd.

I mean, Todd is a little too chummy, if I'm honest.

But I think there's a happy medium between getting to know our neighbors and being Todd.

I've mentioned Larry Leroy before on this show.

He lives out on the edge of town.

He's an artist and a kind old man.

I've always considered him a friend, though I'm not sure why.

I had never been to visit him, nor him me.

I see him here at the station and around town from time to time, time, but that's about it.

And I don't know, something came over me the other day.

Have no idea what it was, merely a suggestion floating in the ether, I suppose, that I should go visit Larry.

That I should be more social in my own community.

Larry built a new house not far from where his old house was destroyed a few years back by a subterranean vortex.

And his new place is gorgeous.

It's a little one-in-one bungalow with a wrap-around porch and a bay window.

His rock garden was decorated with homemade lawn art, mostly abstract towers of sharpened scrap metal and piles of reused plastic twisted into colorful pyramids.

All of the art inside his house was his own, too.

He had self-portraits holding bowls of fruit, self-portraits with dogs, nude self-portraits while wearing powdered wigs, and self-portraits of him painting self-portraits.

And of course, Larry is famous for his dioramas.

Lots of detailed historical depictions like George Washington Carver inventing the cathode ray tube, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera playing badminton.

And there was a really cool diorama he constructed from teeth he found under his pillow of Malcolm X watching season two of What We Do in the Shadows.

I took my husband Carlos with me.

We left Esteban with my niece for the morning because she just finished her semester and had some free time to entertain her little cousin.

Carlos and I were anxious to get away, even if only for a couple of hours, to visit another adult.

More on our adventure with Larry in a moment.

But first, I wanted to update you all about Koshak.

Lots of you have written in to ask if my cat Koshek is feeling any better.

I don't remember mentioning that he was sick, but apparently last month, people heard nearly 30-minute long broadcasts on this very radio station of a cat screeching and hissing.

Uh, not sure how that happened.

Sorry about that, listeners.

But yes, Kaushik was extremely sick, with an abscessed tooth which got terribly infected.

His eyes had nearly swollen shut, and I had to call in a vet to save him.

Dr.

Joe Hinson, one of the most highly recommended vets in town, came to the rescue.

Dr.

Hinson gave Koshak a couple of shots and prescribed some pills, which I have to hide in Koshak's wet food.

I honestly didn't think Koshak was going to make it.

He's getting pretty old, and he had taken to trying to claw and bite me.

But once Dr.

Hinson worked his magic, Koshak healed right up.

He's feeling so much better, just purring and meowing all the time.

Every time I go visit him, in fact, almost like he's trying to tell me a story.

It's so cute.

He's like a little radio show host.

He's taking after his human dad.

Aw.

Unfortunately for Dr.

Hinson, though, Koshak scratched him pretty badly.

He thought he would just need some antibiotic ointment for his wound.

But he also lost about a liter of blood and the infection spread so rapidly that he had to have his feet amputated.

And after that, his skin began to bubble and discolor like a simmering beef chili until the pain and terror grew so great in him that Dr.

Hinson retired to spend more time dissolving into a smoking pulp.

He will be missed.

To the family and friends of Dr.

Joe Hinson.

He was a good vet, but not super great with cats.

Anyway, Kaushik's doing great.

Thanks for all your emails.

Okay, back to our morning with Larry Leroy.

When I reached out to Larry the other day, I asked if he'd like to have a coffee one morning.

You know, something simple like that.

There's a great new coffee shop in the Barista district called Katana, where they grind the beans by throwing them in the air and slicing them with swords.

It's supposed to really maximize the flavor profile.

But Larry suggested we come out his way.

He'd make us breakfast, show us his new house, and then take us to an art exhibit.

I didn't even know that we had an art museum in Night Vale.

Larry said we don't, but there's apparently a a super secret gallery showing out in the Whispering Forest.

It's rumored that there are original works by Ludwig Detman, Jim Dine, Augustus Savage, and Louis Bourgeois.

Now, I had never heard of any of those people, but I definitely nodded my head like I did.

Larry didn't notice, though, because the entire conversation was over email.

I did tell him that going into the Whispering Forest sounded incredibly dangerous because, well, it's enchanted.

The trees whisper compliments to you until you eventually become a tree yourself.

Larry agreed that the journey would be a treacherous one, but said that this is pretty standard for an art museum.

I mean, MoMA has the 60-foot-high tightrope above the pit of razor wire at their entrance.

The Tate Modern in London gives you a riddle that must be solved before you can get in.

And those who fail the riddle are fed to pigs.

Even Lakima requires visitors to have immunity to neurotoxic gases.

Plus, he said that Michelle Wynne from Dark Ell Records has been out there several times, but it's easy for her because, well, she's impervious to compliments.

I consulted Carlos first, of course, and he thought it was a great idea.

I'm not sure he fully understood the risks.

He was merely thrilled to have a brief moment not around an energetic toddler.

So we agreed.

More on that in a minute.

But first, let's have a look at traffic.

Listeners, the exciting news is our station just sprung for a helicopter.

Cool, right?

Now we'll be able to bring you the most accurate traffic reports imaginable.

And our eye of the sky, our helicopter liaison, Yeji Lim, will give you the lowdown on how traffic looks out there in Nightvale.

And according to our first ever helicopter traffic report, Lim says,

all the roads look weird.

It's mind-blowing from this vantage point.

Lim said that from high up in her traffic cop, the streets look like veins.

Not like strips of asphalt upon which move aluminum and steel vehicles, but mother blanken veins.

It's so weird, Lim said.

And like, The cars moving around, it's like blood.

So gross, Lim added.

Yuck.

What the hell am I seeing?

she said.

Our city looks like a living organism, but one that's been cut open so you can see all of the blood pulsing through it.

We cut this thing open and it's still alive, Lim shrieked.

It's still alive, she repeated, her lower jaw quivering, her watery eyes bulging.

What hath God wrought?

Lim then said quietly, as if to no one, before flying higher and higher into the firmament, until her helicopter was just a tiny speck and a distant hum.

And now back to our adventure in the whispering forest.

Carlos, Larry, and I set out to the woods around 8 this morning.

Carlos devised a brilliant plan to protect each other from the trees.

Using basic science, Carlos realized that enchantments can be offset by more powerful enchantments.

You know the saying, fight fire with fire, Carlos asked us.

Of course, Larry and I had heard it before, but we never stopped to ask what it meant or even tried to understand through context clues.

It was just a string of words to us.

Well, Carlos continued, it comes from the scientific principle that the only way to stop a fire is to use a larger fire to put it out.

Enchantments, even powerful ones that use flattery, work the same way.

We were in awe of how vast Carlos's scientific knowledge was, and we both felt super safe.

As we entered the forest, the compliments came hard and fast from the trees.

Oh wow, you have perfect skin.

And your hair is so shiny and voluminous.

I could see Larry slowing down, almost breaking under the incredible kindness of the woods.

But Carlos countered them by saying, Larry, you have the coolest shoes.

And I've never met a more talented artist than you.

And, that's a manly stride you have there, Larry.

Very confident.

Carlos' strategy worked.

How was he able to do this?

I asked him.

And Carlos said the secret to a great compliment is to focus on the subject's choices, not their bodies.

We can choose fashion, careers, aesthetics, vibes, all that, much more easily than what our bodies look like.

It feels good when someone notices what you have made for yourself.

We reached the center of the woods in what felt like only 15 or 20 minutes, though we would learn soon enough that this was a lie.

At a clearing in the trees, we found it.

We found art.

Hanging from vines, leaning against rocks and shrubs were some of the finest paintings I have ever seen.

The brushwork just extravagant and the colors divine.

I know nothing about art and even I could understand these were all masterpieces.

From 20th century postmodern abstracts to the rough and realistic Renaissance mythologies to the deconstructed still lifes of 19th century Impressionism.

We were so taken by the beauty of the exhibit that we did not at first notice the figure in the dead center of the glade.

Wearing a black cloak, a small crown with two horns and a name tag that said, hello my name is, and then the words, Mino, she, her, scrawled in black sharpie below.

I had to presume this to be the proprietor of the gallery and that their name was Mino.

Our eyes all met Mino's at once, and Mino said,

you should not have come.

Looking up, we all became aware that the day was gone.

Or at least, the sun was.

The sky was black, though it couldn't have been yet nine in the morning.

You'll never find your way out, Mino said.

Them woods are a maze, Larry muttered.

I usually say labyrinth, Mino said, but yes, that.

Wait, timeout.

Sorry.

I got a pee, like, really bad.

Um, let's go to the weather.

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So,

I was just in the bathroom here at work where Koshek is always, and I mean always hovering at exactly four feet off the ground in exactly the same place.

Every day, for the last nine years since I found him.

His kittens were all there, but they only glared at me, not saying anything.

Probably because they're cats.

But also probably because they're jerks.

I mean, that Venn diagram is almost a perfect circle.

I'm a bit alarmed, but I'm sure he's fine.

He's a cat.

He'll come back.

I hope.

Anyway, we're in the clearing in the middle of the dark woods in what should have been mid-morning.

We're told that the woods are a maze.

Carlos, like the prepared scientist he is, pulls a compass from his shoulder compass holster, which was hidden beneath his black leather lab coat.

And for those of you wondering, yes, Carlos is licensed to carry a concealed compass.

But when we looked at it, the needle just spun wildly.

I pulled out my phone, but the GPS could not locate us.

We turned to Mino and begged to be released from the labyrinth.

We promised to tell no one about the artwork.

Maybe you stole this art?

We won't tell.

I stammered.

I mean, I'm not saying you stole it.

I bet you own it outright, legally.

You know, on the up and up.

I didn't mean to suggest that...

Shut up, Cecil.

Sorry, Sorry, I said that out loud.

I was a nervous wreck.

Carlos pleaded that we had a son at home who would miss his fathers terribly, and we were two fathers who would miss our son terribly.

Plus, Carlos added, we told the babysitter where we were going, and she's a very responsible young woman who would immediately call the police if we weren't back by a certain time.

And the police would come looking for us, probably, at some point, if they felt like it.

Mino laughed, then pointed at two large spruce trees which were wearing blue FBI jackets.

The authorities have been looking for me for years, Mino said.

A couple of them even found me, but they couldn't resist the curse of these woods.

Gentlemen, Mino continued, I am not keeping you here.

I myself am kept here.

I enchanted this forest years ago.

But the spell has grown more powerful than its speaker, even I, am trapped in this labyrinth of my own making.

Mino then made a fist and shook it to the heavens, which I thought was funny, but Carlos thought it was a little hackneyed.

Larry took out his sketchbook.

He'd been doodling in it all morning.

He used it during our walk into the Whispering Forest to help distract himself from the generous praise of the trees.

Mino said it was no use.

The forest cannot be filmed or recorded or even drawn.

Larry slumped upon seeing his sketchbook pages completely empty.

Over my shoulder, I heard one of the trees chattering, trying to enchant us.

It was too far away to have any effect, but I realized, I recognized that tree.

It was the one that had complimented me on my beautiful resonant voice.

I clearly remember it telling me that.

We definitely passed that one, I said.

Close your ears and follow me, I called as I headed toward the familiar path out.

Carlos, Larry, and Mino followed close behind, their palms clapped to their sides of their heads.

Shortly after that, I saw another tree I knew.

It was the one that had said it enjoyed my community calendars.

I enjoyed them too, tree.

Further along the path, to the left, there was the tree that had said it found me a trustworthy voice of local journalism.

How true.

How true.

In appreciation, I autographed the tree's trunk with my pocket knife.

It's always, always love to meet a fan.

I pulled the others along the twisting path until we finally returned to the entrance of the whispering forest.

The sun was shining once again.

The four of us stood on the edge of the woods, panting and smiling.

Carlos had to go pick up Esteban from Janice's dorm.

I needed to go get to work.

Larry wanted to go try out his new dark room.

And Mino?

Though finally freed from their own prison, Mino had no home in Nightvale.

She wasn't from here.

Larry offered Mino room on his couch, but she declined.

I will find my way, she said.

I have an old friend here in town I would like to see.

Mino turned and walked alone across the dusty hills toward town.

Before we left, Carlos asked me, Larry and Mino and I had to plug our ears as we escaped the labyrinth.

How were you able to take in all those compliments, sweetie, and still not turn into a tree?

I said, well,

I'm excellent at what I do.

It's not a compliment if it's the truth, babe.

Carlos just said, huh.

I said, I love you.

See you tonight.

And I will.

But first, I need to print out some missing cat posters.

It's not like Kaushik to disappear like that.

Stay tuned next for the gravity of the moon.

And as always, good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

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

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

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition.

All that can be found at disparition.fancamp.com.

This episode's weather was Dream by Nada.

Find out more at soundcloud.com slash Nada D-O-V.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvale Radio or dance a waltz in front of the handsome prince.

Check us out at welcometonightvale.com for info about great holiday gifts that you should buy now if you want them in time because of reasons.

Today's proverb, ask your doctor about their health.

It's always you, you, you.

Conversation is a two-way street.

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 Unschooled wherever you get your podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Hi, we're Meg Bashpiner.

And Joseph Fink of Welcome to Night Vale.

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.

What can we learn from the best and worst of great television?

Like, for example, is it really a bad episode, or do people just hate women?

The best, worst, available wherever you get your podcasts.