102 - Love Is a Shambling Thing

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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Look at it from the raindrops point of view.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Yesterday, of course, was Valentine's Day, our first in four years.

After that last Valentine's Day, which destroyed much of Night Vale and left many innocent victims buried under piles of rubble and candy hearts, the city government built a large concrete dome over the Hallmark store in the mini-mall downtown, thus keeping its dangerous sentiment from leaking into the outside world.

Four employees of the store were unfortunately sealed inside.

But there was just no time to remove them during the seven-month construction of the dome.

It would have thrown everything off schedule.

However, City Council has a renewed interest in love, since starting their on-again-off-again romance with the station management here at Nightvale Community Radio.

Currently, their status is on, although they fight a lot, and their fights have caused considerable structural damage to the Arby's and displaced a number of town citizens through time.

So, the Council wants to create a controlled, safe Valentine's celebration in order to impress station management, despite strong protests from the Knightville citizens who do not believe there is any way to safely handle Valentine's materials.

City Council announced yesterday that Valentine's was a celebration of love and deemed that the official slogan of the day was love

is

more on that in a moment, but first, some

Listeners, I am.

I am sorry to have to report what I next have to report.

Old Woman Josie, your friend and mine, but more my friend than yours.

I mean, beyond Carlos, she is who I am closest with in this strange and friendly town of ours, and she is.

Well, she is under hospice care at her home.

There is no upside to this story than, on the broadest, most distant view of time,

this is not a surprise, but even with a long time to prepare for the worst,

we are still in shock.

As though we stepped out onto a sunny street and found ourselves falling into a lake, just on the liquid side of Frozen.

And that is maybe the best way of describing it.

I feel cold,

barely able able to act.

My words feel slow.

My hands tremble.

Only Josie seems not upset about her own condition.

She lies on her bed surrounded by the beings who describe themselves as angels and the woman, Alondra, who describes herself as Josie's daughter.

Josie smiled and said, what a joy.

that I have gotten to live so long.

What a relief that I don't have to live forever.

Anyone wanting to visit Josie and say their goodbyes,

please dig a hole in your backyard or any public garden.

Whisper your wishes for Josie into it, and the angels will hear you.

I know it's illegal to acknowledge the existence of angels, but right now I don't care.

Please understand that Josie has limited strength and even more limited time, and she may not be able to see you at all.

I.

Of course, I will keep you updated.

But the trajectory is certain.

Only the timeline isn't known.

I suppose the same is true for every person, but we are always surprised at the literal truth of it every time,

over

and over.

And now, listeners, the classified section.

Lost.

Moths.

All of them.

Reward if found.

Contact us by dialing numbers into your phone at random.

If you were meant to reach us, you will.

Notice, that veiled woman who sits motionless in the shadows of unlit parks at 3 a.m.

gives really great relationship advice.

Bring raw meat and never look directly at her.

The schedule of events at the public library is up.

It's just your name listed as an event once an hour with the word cancelled next to each.

Found.

Something that you will never notice is gone and that we will never return.

You don't even remember having it, but you did have it.

Once.

Not anymore.

The Night Vale Psychic and Medium Society would like to let you know the answers to all your future questions.

These answers in order.

The porch light?

Eight.

Because we could.

A distant star?

Green.

Also green.

We're sorry, but we have to.

If you have any follow-up questions, then we won't have done our job correctly.

This has been The Classifieds.

The City Council made careful preparations for a day of love.

They put up up streamers around City Hall and reserved a table at Tourniquet for a fancy dinner date with station management.

The rest of us also made preparations for Valentine's by stocking up on bottled water and canned goods and discussing with loved ones where we would meet if we needed to evacuate.

Several volunteer firefighters kept a brave watch for candy hearts or teddy bears with anatomically correct glistening hearts stitched onto their bellies.

The city council revised their earlier slogans, saying they had misspoke.

Their slogan was not, love is, but love

is a shambling thing.

They nodded vehemently with whatever head-like protrusion the multi-body entity uses to nod and repeated, love is a shambling thing.

in a whisper before dissipating into the air like evaporating liquid.

Apparent leader of the five-headed dragons, Hadassah McDaniels, has responded to the fatal shooting of one of her brother's five heads with an understandable mix of grief and rage and fire breath.

She has staged a several week-long protest outside of City Hall in which she peacefully held up signs and peacefully ate, mauled, or burned anyone attempting to enter or exit the building.

There has still been no sighting or word of Hiram since the shooting.

We reached out to the five-headed dragons to see if they had any updates on that front, but they took our microphone from us and devoured it in a quick twirling series of bites like it was a cob of corn.

I did not get any follow-up to that since I fled screaming before they could put me through the same treatment.

But I will take this response as a sign that they also do not have news about Hiram.

Hadassah has said that she seeks justice.

Specifically, the justice she seeks is pain inflicted upon Nightvale equal to or greater than the pain inflicted upon her own soul.

She said, you don't understand the true nature of your splintered world.

There are terrible forces surrounding you, held together in a fragile truce.

That truce will end, and with it, your town.

Then she saw Jeremy Godfrey emerge from City Hall, there to pay a small municipal fine for wearing unfashionable sweaters, and she set his hair on fire.

And now a word from our sponsors.

Today's show has been brought to you by Sears.

Sears would like you to know that they offer quality products at low prices.

And also that there was a miscommunication and they thought this was a television station.

They prepared a TV ad and aren't sure what to do now.

I guess we'll just describe what you would have seen had you seen this commercial on TV.

This is not the level of quality we want you to think of when you think of Sears, but

here goes.

Exterior.

A house.

Snow drifts down onto a yard already piled with snow.

A warm glow on the snow reflected light.

We pan up.

It is the light from the house's windows.

So cozy, so warm.

Why would anyone ever want to leave and go to Sears?

What kind of commercial is this?

Stick with us.

Interior, living room.

A woman looks out the window, bites her lip.

Bad weather, she thinks.

I'm not going outside.

We don't hear this as narration.

The performer expresses this with her face.

She's a great actor.

I wish you could have seen her.

She doesn't even talk in this commercial.

All visual performance, it's what a waste.

So, bad weather.

She doesn't want to go outside.

She goes to the computer.

loads up Amazon.

It's not Amazon because we don't want to advertise another company, but it's like clearly Amazon, you know?

We see her clicking on stuff, stuff she could be buying at Sears, but is instead buying on Amazon.

Flash forward a day.

She got next day shipping, I guess.

Same house exterior, it's still snowy, the snow is high, the pavement is icy.

A mail truck pulls up.

A mail carrier gets out.

He has her package.

We see her in the window, so happy about her decision to buy from Amazon.

He starts up the drive to her.

He slips on the ice.

Her package goes flying.

It says fragile on the package, so that's probably ruined.

He falls badly, fractures his leg in three places.

We don't know this just by looking at it, but the filming of the stunt didn't go like it was supposed to, so I can tell you, fractured in three places.

Horror on her face.

She does a great job acting this scene.

I really wish you could have seen it.

We're now in a courtroom.

She's being sued.

The jury looks stern.

She's going to lose.

All of her savings will go to the mail carrier.

But he isn't happy either.

He is in incredible daily pain, and what is money going to do to fix that?

No one is happy.

We fade out on the two of them at their separate tables in court, both facing a future that is diminished.

That is diminishing.

Next time, get in your car and go to Sears.

This has been a message from your sponsor.

Back to our Valentine's report.

How was it?

Honestly, uneventful.

Casualties were limited to a few neighborhoods and only two out of three gas mains exploded.

Most of the town isn't completely burning, only a little scorched.

As far as Valentine's goes, it was a huge success.

The date between city council and station management also went well, as far as we can tell.

Tourniquet's entire building was enveloped in a thick fog that pulsed a strange blue, and there was the reverberant harmony of a children's choir.

When the fog lifted, every human customer in the restaurant had vanished and were replaced by figures shrouded in white cloth, slowly twirling in place.

City Council and Station Management were

intertwining their torso appendages and

cooing.

Oh, it does seem I got the slogan for yesterday wrong again.

It was actually, love is a shambling thing, grey-faced and gasping.

Huh, that's pretty good branding.

It's very romantic.

Wait, what was I?

Oh,

I'm being told that that's still wrong.

Okay, hold on, let me figure this out.

And in the meantime, let's get to that weather.

See yourself on flocks in fighting form.

And everybody loves you now.

They're glad you're home.

Story time,

battle scars.

yellow lines, track marks, innocurse

Loads of fun

It's a top of the rock, Snow Cat, you merry night

You'd think every last little thing would be alright

Broken-hearted month, you stare at the sun

Wondering when your hunter's moon's bitter sore.

And your friends say you're like an onionbore.

Only you are imbibing the spirit of the mess you left before.

It's time to love streams wet so summer nights.

You think every last little thing's gonna be alright.

And the boss is always right.

You're missing half the point of life.

Standing on a darkened beach in seaside heights.

Listening to TPM.

About to cross the bridge again.

Playing catch-up where the pumps stay on all night.

You're off and waving bye-bye as you swore.

You'd go to hell before you dare

go back for more

And this will almost always be your life

So you have to take the low

Parts with the high

This is the day after day, it's the same day kind of night

You think every last little thing

for the light.

Just thinking of everything and everything, and everything and everything.

Everything and everything, and everything, and everything, and every last little thing is gonna be alright.

See yourself on blocks in fighting form.

And everybody loves you now.

Glad you're home.

You chose to hit play on this podcast today.

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Love is a shambling thing, gray-faced and gasping.

It moves in from the west, the setting sun behind it.

Those who see it avert their eyes.

Love stumbles.

and shudders.

Love grasps but is not grasped.

It sees a man and the man does not look away.

Love reaches out a gray hand.

The man touches the hand just lightly, just on the palm, and the man feels heat inside of him.

His heart is on fire.

This is not a metaphor.

His heart is on fire, and so soon is his skin, his hair, his teeth become more and more visible.

As his face shrinks and melts away, love watches dispassionately.

Love does not love what it does.

Love only does it.

Love does not have eyes, and neither now does the man.

Love is a shambling thing.

It climbs through a window into an infant's bedroom.

When one of the mothers comes in to check on her baby son, there is love, too, in the crib, curled up beside him.

Love murmurs, and the baby spits restlessly.

The baby does not burn.

The baby will eventually burn, but by then he will not be a baby.

The woman looks down at the ghastly form of love curled up beside her son and she thinks, what have I done?

She cries, not because she is happy or sad, but because that is what her body needs to do next.

Love rises from the crib and passes her without a glance.

Love is a shambling thing.

It shambles out of her home.

Love, with skin that peels peels and pops and joints that moan and snap, climbs to the top of a tall building and surveys its surroundings.

So

many

people.

It opens its mouth.

Its teeth are the only part of its body that look new and healthy.

It has so many teeth.

It yelps and howls, an inarticulate sermon of lust and loss, and everyone hears it.

They hear it as a shudder in their stomach and hitch in their step.

Love does not eat or drink.

Love separates its many teeth and consumes.

Love is a shambling thing, grey-faced and gasping.

It moves out to the east, the night drawing closed behind it.

Those who see it avert their eyes.

So,

that's the final version of the City Council's slogan for Valentine's Day.

It's...

um

it's catchy

they also sent over their current draft for a night veil valentine's day logo design it's it's not really a logo per se it's an actual physical rusty bear trap hidden in a set position below a pile of loose tissue paper in an undisclosed truck stop restroom.

And I like it.

Again, great branding.

It's very eye-catching, depending on how you look at it.

We seem to have all made it through this Valentine's Day, except those of us who didn't, but any given day there are those of us who did not make it.

Every day is a new opportunity for danger.

Every day is another day survived.

Every survival, another chance

for love.

From one who loves to all of you out there who love,

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 Joseph Fink.

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 Listening to TPM by Brooke Pridemore.

Find out more at broookpridemore.bandcamp.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio or punch a Nazi real good in the face.

Check out welcometonightvale.com for more information on this show as well as our live shows, which we are out in the world doing right now.

Come see us.

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It's like punching Nazis, but for supporting art.

Today's proverb, live every day like it's your first.

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-sees, and in 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 Unschooled wherever you get your podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Hey, Jeffrey Kramer here to tell you about another show from me and my Night Vale co-creator, Joseph Fink.

It's called Unlicensed, and it's an LA Noir-style mystery set in the outskirts of present-day Los Angeles.

Unlicensed follows two unlicensed private investigators whose small jobs looking into insurance claims and missing property are only the tip of a conspiracy iceberg.

There are already two seasons of Unlicensed for you to listen to now, with season three dropping on May 15th.

Unlicensed is available exclusively through Audible, free if you already have that subscription.

And if you don't, Audible has a trial membership.

And if I know you, and I do, you can binge all that mystery goodness in a short window.

And if you like it, if you liked Unlicensed, please, please rate and review each season.

Our ability to keep making this show is predicated on audience engagement.

So go check out Unlicensed, available now only at Audible.com.