159 - Cat Show

Hey y'all, it is Jeffrey Kraner speaking to you from the year 2025.

And did you know that Welcome to Night Vale is back out on tour?

We are.

We're gonna be up in the northeast in the Boston, New York City area, going all the way over to the upper Midwest in Minnesota.

That's in July.

You kind of draw a line through there and you'll kind of see the towns we'll be hitting.

We'll also be doing Philly down to Florida in September.

And we'll be going from Austin all the way up through the middle of the country into Toronto, Canada in October.

And then we'll be doing the West Coast plus the Southwest plus Colorado in January of 2026.

You can find all of the show dates at welcome to nightvale.com/slash live.

Listen, this brand new live show is so much fun.

It is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, and it stars Cecil Baldwin, of course, Symphony Sanders, me, and live original music by Disparition, and who knows what other special guests may come along for the ride.

These tours are always so much fun, and they are for you, the diehard fan, and you, the Night Vale new kid alike.

So feel comfortable bringing your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever.

They don't gotta know what a night veil is to like the show.

Tickets to all of these live shows are on sale now at welcometonightvelle.com/slash live.

Don't let time slip away and miss us when we are in your town because otherwise we will all be sad.

Get your tickets to our live US plus Toronto tours right now at welcometonightveld.com/slash live.

And hey, see you soon.

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Be the annoying goose you want to see in the world.

Welcome to Nightvale.

This day was foretold and now it is here.

Some doubted it would come, but the signs were clear.

And I could not be more excited.

It's the annual Night Vale Cat Show.

I know I rarely report on this event, but this year I finally entered my own cat, Koshek, into the contest.

Many of you remember that I found Koshek seven years ago.

He was floating four feet off the ground in the men's restroom here at the radio station.

And he's still in that exact same spot, as cute as ever with his furry little white paws, an elegant little black tail, and just the floofiest tentacles you could ever see.

My husband and I adore cats.

We're always ranking them because love is above all else a competition.

So we figured we should put Koshek out there for an objective ruling on our own beliefs that he is the best cat in the world.

It should be an easy win for our little boy, especially with the home field advantage.

Koshek is stuck stuck in a fixed point in space, and the cat show is being held here at the radio station to accommodate his condition.

Station management is a bit unhappy about this because they're terribly allergic to cats.

All morning, as the cat show organizers and competing cats have arrived, I have felt the sneezes of station management.

from deep below the surface of the earth where they have burrowed into the warm, molten core of our dying planet.

I sent our new intern, Simon Peterson, out to pick up some Benadryl for the bosses, and he did.

But now he's having trouble navigating the 16-inch wide rocky tunnel station management dug into the break room.

And Simon keeps saying he's claustrophobic and that his greatest fear is to be stuck in a dark place.

where the long spindly arms touch and prod his feet.

But he cannot see them.

And even if he could, he would not comprehend them.

And the prickly limbs grab at him with increasing desperation, and he does not scream because he knows no one will hear him except the inscrutable

thing

that is now tearing open the skin along the bottom of his feet.

And I was like, Simon, this office is a no-excuses zone.

So get in that tunnel and do your job.

More on the cat show soon, but first, the news.

Strange men arrived in town today.

They were wearing suits and carrying briefcases.

They drove a black sedan.

One of them wore sunglasses.

They claimed to be from Washington, D.C., from an agency called the National Transportation Safety Board.

They were inquiring about a missing plane.

Strange men, one of them had a blister on his upper lip, met with Sheriff Sam.

and told them that on June 15th, 2012, Delta Flight 18713 from Detroit missed again to Albany, New York disappeared.

The NTSB still has not found the MD-90 aircraft.

The men told Sheriff Sam that for many years, the agency believed the flight to have gone down in Lake Erie.

Sheriff Sam laughed at this silly fake name for a lake and told the men, one of them had a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger, that they must be remembering some spooky young adult novel rather than a real-life event.

The Strange Men, one of them had an unceasing nosebleed, said it was in fact true.

They said that they recently found a report indicating that right before Flight 18713 vanished from radar, it was detected all the way down in the southwest United States, right here in Nightvale.

How is that possible?

The strange men asked our sheriff.

Sheriff Sam stopped laughing and said, I know the plane.

Or rather, I know someone who saw that plane.

His name is Doug.

Doug Biondi.

The strange men, one of them wore three wedding rings, nodded and said,

take us to Doug.

Sheriff Sam said, Doug is in the Night Vale Asylum.

He is dangerous.

He is not allowed visitors.

But, and Sheriff Sam leaned forward, clasping their hands together across the desk, and continued in a hushed tone, I could

assist in an undercover operation, disguise you all as new inmates, treacherous psychopaths who must be kept in lockdown in the world's highest security mental hospital.

Then,

then,

you would be able to interview Doug Biondi about what he saw that day in the elementary school gym.

And the strange men, one of them was weeping thick yellow tears, agreed that this was a great idea and set out with the sheriff to the asylum, deep within the scrublands, to begin their covert investigation.

I'm sure those strange men from the NTSB will emerge soon with a full report.

More on this story as it develops.

But I have to get back to the catch-up!

So many cats have arrived.

There are cages and carriers full of sweet kitties all over the station.

Representing all four breeds of cat, long-haired, short-haired, smushy-faced, and miscellaneous.

When I was filling out the entry forms for Kaushik, they asked me his breed, and he's definitely smushy-faced.

But also long-haired, although he's short-haired along his caudal spine and pincers.

So

Miscellaneous?

I guessed.

Also, they wanted Koshik's last name, and I had never thought of a last name for our cat.

I told Carlos we should put his last name as Koshik's last name, because Carlos has a much more interesting last name than me.

Plus, Carlos is pretty well known and very well liked in town.

Everybody knows his last name, and I thought that might carry some political weight in the minds of the judges.

But Carlos insisted that we use mine, because I found Koshek and adopted him.

So there you go, little kitty.

You are Koschek Gershwin-Palmer.

A champion name for a champion cat.

Let's have a look now at the community calendar.

This Friday night is the tour of lights in Old Town Nightvale.

Participants can meet at Galway and First, starting at 7 p.m., where a tractor pulling a trailer full of hay will drive you around to look at the bright and festive holiday lights adorning the various historic homes.

Last year's favorite, the Victorian Mansion owned by Harrison Kipp, included a 40-foot-tall Santa, his arms outstretched overseeing a vast army of toiling elves.

While an old Victrola played Ave Maria over crackling speakers, and clowns leapt suddenly from the thick shrubs, handing unsuspecting but delighted guests red and blue balloons shaped like long-dead family members.

Tickets are $5 and go to support the Bilderberg Group.

Saturday evening is the bi-monthly pub crawl in downtown Nightvale.

Every eight weeks or so, every bar in town becomes overrun with seven-inch long bugs that look like...

a bit like earwigs, but with human faces.

All participating bars and pubs are offering two-for-one specials on well drinks and bottled domestics.

Sunday afternoon, the Tamika Flynn Book Club will be meeting to discuss their most recent book, the 2018 Huskvarna YTH24K 14-inch Riding Mower Owner's Manual.

This month's book was chosen by John Peters.

You know,

the farmer.

They'll be discussing the themes, symbolism, and subtext of this seminal work of contemporary technical literature.

The book club is open to anyone and there will be a potluck benefit.

Monday is running a few minutes late but wants everyone to know we can go ahead and start without it.

The cat show is finally underway and wow,

what a sight.

I've never actually been to a cat show before today.

It is fascinating.

So the judges take each cat one at a time.

They hold up the cat's tail to examine its posture and form.

Then they pry open the cat's mouth to check its teeth.

Then four judges hold each of the cat's paws and stretch it out into a furry X, as a fifth judge measures the cat's latitudinal, longitudinal, and diagonal lengths.

I'm surprised at how gentle these cats are with all this rough handling.

Koshak,

Koshak usually tries to bite me or sting me when I feed him.

And I appreciate that about him.

It's hard to respect a cat that would let any stranger look it directly in the eyes, let alone touch it.

People sometimes think cats will behave obediently and chummily like dogs, but cats are individualistic.

They show love, yes, but it is conditional and judgmental.

You must give a cat space to learn its environment and develop its own social rules.

Plus, those pincers really hurt.

The cats they're showing right now are very cute, but it's

it's hard to respect them.

Like the way they let these judges just treat them like slabs of meat.

Stand up for yourself, you glorified sock puppets!

Oh, I'm getting some nasty looks from the judges and other contestants.

Good.

Good.

Trash talk is important in contact sports.

Let him know who's the frontrunner.

Amber Akinyi and her husband Wilson Levy are showing their cat now, a tiny, fist-sized orange and white shorthair named Bertold.

Bertold might be my second favorite cat, behind Koshik, of course, because he's a, oh,

what do you call that type of cat with the extra appendages, the poly polydactyl!

Polydactyl, that's it.

Anyway, Bertold is a polydactyl cat.

He has eight legs and a mesmerizing array of shiny black eyes covering his cute little face.

I'm not so sure Bertold has much of a chance of winning, though.

Because when the judge is trying to check his teeth, he skittered up the wall and won't come down from the web he built up there.

Oh, well, now Susan Willman is showing her cat.

He's a scraggy, but otherwise basic tabby with dirty teeth like Spanish rice and the sunken posture of a playground swing.

Oh, I didn't catch his name.

Although it sounded like she called him Dumpster.

Not a chance, loser.

Okay, oh, wait.

The judges are all wide-eyed and cooing.

over dumpster like he's a rare bejeweled artifact wait they're nodding to each other as if they're impressed.

I don't get this.

He's a trash cat.

That's why she named him Dumpster, or knowing Susan, maybe that's a family name.

Oh!

Oh, I'm getting a shush sign from the judges, and Susan is glaring at me.

I had no idea how political this cat shit would be.

What a racket!

Let's have a look now at traffic.

There's a slowdown on westbound lanes of Route 800 near exit 19.

There is no construction or accident.

Highway Patrol said that everyone on that side of the road simply started thinking about Uranus and giggling.

Every single driver, simultaneously, remembered how the name of that planet always made them laugh in school.

Scientists want to study Uranus.

They thought at once, really probe the dense, noxious clouds covering the rocky surface of Uranus.

They considered in unison their ruddy cheeks quaking above sore jaws and below tear-filled, crackling eyes.

Scientists think the pressure inside Uranus is so great that there may be diamonds inside Uranus.

The drivers all howled, the audible din enough to slow even the eastbound lanes, who were trying to think of a single funny thing about Saturn, but could not.

I'm not sure I get why any of that is funny, but expect westbound delays of 20 minutes or take an alternative route.

It's the big moment, listeners.

The judges are visiting Koshek right now in the men's restroom.

I tried to tell them to use Neoprene gloves, but they sneered and said, we know how to handle cats, sir.

Okay.

They're professional arbiters of all things feline.

So I believe them.

They're holding up Koshek's tails right now, examining his nacreous scales.

They've brought in two other judges to try to hold Koshik's tentacles down because, well, he keeps trying to grab at the main judge's face as the judge attempts to examine Koshek's teeth.

Oh, I wonder if they'll deduct points for Koshak having more teeth than a normal cat.

I mean, he has five rows of them.

Oh!

Oh!

Oh, no.

Oh!

The judges are not controlling this situation well at all.

Koshak has wrapped wrapped up all of the judges in his many spiraling suctioned arms.

They're struggling to break free, but those tentacles secrete a sedative oil and the judges are wobbling.

They're passing out.

Yep, not good.

Every single judge is unconscious, and now Koshik is wildly flapping his wings, and while I cannot hear it, I can tell he is emitting a shriek that only other cats can hear.

He does this when he's upset.

Oh, there's Bertolt coming down from the safe haven of his web.

There's Dumpster, hollow-eyed and purring, walking toward Kaushik.

And all the other cats are coming too.

Their mouths agape, emitting, I am sure, the same ultrasonic tone, a harmony of protest, of uprising, of bloodthirst.

They're gathering now in the men's room, eyes glowing, all slack-jawed and silent, screaming at the sky.

Oh yeah, the other pet owners are sobbing and they're running for the exits, but they know they cannot leave.

They would not leave even if they could.

It is silent now in the station, save for the panting exhaustion of frightened human owners and the strained wheezing breaths of unconscious cat show judges.

I think Carlos and I have a great shot at winning this thing, listeners.

An announcement of a champion coming soon.

But first, the weather.

Take your time and take it from me.

Cause it ain't yours and nothing comes free.

I'll keep it time till someone can see when the beat hits your feet.

Aren't you lost and lonely?

Don't you know, just cause you can't see it,

it doesn't mean you gotta leave it.

Taking time, someone remembers to keep with the beat instead of looking back.

We'll take a walk in the sky and come back down.

Come on, you tired eyes.

And come around the days and the nights.

A wasted time.

I've never been the kind of giver before.

If I could turn the clock to yesterday,

will I find a better

enough to make me feel like I was born to to survive.

Take your time, but don't go easy.

I never learned, cause no one can teach me.

I kept time,

but I couldn't be left to think.

Swimmers sink in the changing tide.

We'll take a walk in the sky and come back down.

Come on, your tired eyes.

It'll come around

the days and the nights.

We're wasted time.

I've never been to kinda give up.

But just once if I could turn that cloud to yesterday,

will I find a better

enough to make me feel like I was born to survive?

Turn a clown to yesterday.

Well, I'm the final better.

Enough to make me feel like I do more than survive.

We'll take a walk in the sky, then come back down.

Come on, you tired eyes.

And

come around the season, the nights, the wasted time.

I've never been the kind.

If I could have loved to yesterday to turn back with love and fire,

better wind.

Enough to make me feel like I do more.

If I could turn back love to yesterday,

without a fire,

better wind.

Enough to make me feel like I was born to survive.

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

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The judges woke up, but they no longer speak in English nor any

human language.

They are licking themselves and eating moths that they caught by the single swinging light bulb in our radio station's interrogation room.

Their brains are feral and feline now, as they hide under tables and hiss at the other cat owners.

I tried to warn them about using hazmat gloves, but they didn't want to hear me.

Or maybe they did.

Perhaps this was their gambit all along.

I mean, this is, after all, my first cat show.

I don't want to pretend like I know how these things go.

No winners were announced.

The judges joined the high-pitched caterwauling of the other cats, and then they all left in a unified clowder, out the men's room window and into the street.

I can see them now, running toward the alley behind the CVS, several other cats joining their ranks, all except Koshek, who cannot leave his spot in the station restroom, four feet in the air.

I told Koshik that he's a winner in my mind.

And I put on my thick rubber gear and gently stroked his smoosh little face

right between his middle two eyes.

It's hard to tell what cats are thinking or feeling.

But I think Koshik is happy.

He's happy to have such a loving home and two doting dads.

But

Something in his eyes tells me he wanted to run free with his new cat friends.

I gave him a catnip plushie, though, and he looks content, if a little coked up.

Stay tuned next for a noise you cannot hear, rallying a feral insurrection.

Good night, Night Vale.

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 Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition.

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

This episode's weather was Fuzzy Disco by Talkie.

Find out more at talkie.bandcamp.com.

That's Talkie with an IE.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio or tell the neighbor's dog to just come down, little buddy.

There's no need to get this worked up.

Check out Welcome to Night Vale for info about our upcoming world tour.

Brand new script, and boy am I excited about some of the stuff we're going to try with this one.

Today's proverb: Wanna feel old?

Don't worry, you will.

High above Paris, near the very top of the Eiffel Tower, lives its janitor, whose job it is to clean the tower by night.

But...

I have no idea how I came to be at the Eiffel Tower.

He simply found himself here one night.

able to recall nothing except for one childhood

He looked at me and he said,

Tonight, I'm going to attempt a stunt.

And he whispered in my ear and told me,

I'm going to hypnotize all Paris.

And

then there's this.

The janitor has never left the tower.

Hey, Paul, Coco, do you have a cigarette?

Thank you.

That was the only two people who have ever seen the janitor.

It was his boss, Mr.

Chinard, speaking to the tower's 90-year-old night watchman, Coco.

And Coco might be the only one who can save the janitor.

The janitor had told Coco a story about a ballroom he said was at the top of the Eiffel Tower and a strange show that goes on inside of it.

Now there is no ballroom, yet when the janitor tells of it,

Coco can really picture it.

Uh-huh.

Really?

Yeah.

He tells of crew chief Letitia, who runs that show.

Lift with yours.

Okay, I got it.

I got it.

Here she's carrying a giant backdrop with stagehand Jacques.

Because my mother, she always tells me if I get lost, I should look for the Apple Tower and know exactly where I am.

Hey, mine too.

Oh, really?

Yeah, my aunt, but yeah.

That tower

personality.

Almost like it was haunted with a benevolent presence.

Ow!

Oh, hey, what was that?

Oh, I tripped over something.

It was a mop.

You alright?

Yeah, I'm alright.

Then there's the drunken, out-of-control diva who hosts the show.

Flattery will get you nowhere except my dressing room.

John Cameron.

You know, John, you've been drinking a lot, and it's not like you.

Lots of people like me.

You know, when it's especially nice is when they don't know who I am.

That's when I know it means something.

That's what I need.

I don't need fans.

I don't need friends.

I need people who have no idea who I am, and I need millions of them.

And somewhere hidden in all of this may be the truth that can save the janitor.

In the grand ballroom at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the red velvet curtains part.

And suddenly, the giant on-air sign above the stage lights up.

Broadcasting from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the orbiting human circus of the air.

The orbiting human circus in Naughty Till New Year's.

A brand new adventure.

The perfect place to begin.

It all starts November 6th from WNYC Studios and Night Vale Presents.

Support for this podcast and the following message comes from America's Navy.

The Navy offers new graduates hands-on training and experience in careers like computer science, aviation, and medicine, plus education and sign-on bonuses.

Parents, help your grads start their career today at Navy.com.

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 Dude 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.

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 Night Vale, 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 9, wherever you get your podcasts.

Boo.