14 - The Man in the Tan Jacket

Welcome to Night Vale has a lot of really amazing merch, and it's all at welcometonightvale.com.

And you click on store, we've got t-shirts, leggings, blankets, stickers, posters, mugs, bags, holiday carts, throw pillows, blankets, etc., etc.

Oh, ugly Christmas sweaters, whatever you need.

Even if you've been to our merch store before, it's different now.

We're constantly taking down old things and putting up new things.

So, if something looks pretty dope to you, get it soon because who knows if it'll be there for long.

I'm really right now, I just got a bunch of stuff.

I'm really enjoying my mutated vegetable tea towel designed by Jessica Hayworth, my University of What It Is sweatshirt, and of course, my Moonlight All-Night Diner coffee mug.

Plus, we have dozens more things for you or someone you love for the holidays, or just on a lark.

Go to welcometonightvale.com and click on store.

Look to the obelisk.

We don't know where it came from, but it's attracting a lot of cats.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Happy New Year, Night

Last night's fireworks extravaganza at the Nightvale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area was beautiful.

This is despite the fact that the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area never really existed and was in no way a multi-million dollar failure of municipal planning.

And just because the only things remaining on the premises are several large piles of rubble and a red sign reading, nothing is here, nothing was ever here,

does not mean that they failed to correctly use tax dollars to build a harbor, a waterfront, or a recreation area.

Anyway, the fireworks over the city-made sign were lovely.

Happy 2013,

ladies and gentlemen, surely you have noticed, there's a man in a tan jacket.

Countless residents have seen him, but no one can seem to remember exactly what he looks like.

Just that he has a tan jacket and a deer skin suitcase.

And he has been spotted all over town.

But no one can quite recall specifically where they saw him or what time of day it was,

just that they saw him.

Frances Donaldson, the tall woman with the green eyes who manages the antiques mall, thinks maybe the man in the tan jacket is simply a shared dream.

But I know I saw him, Night Vale.

I know what I saw.

This man couldn't possibly be a dream.

He was so vivid.

His eyes were.

well,

his nose and his chin.

Oh, I can just see.

I just can't remember.

The man was clear as day.

He had a tan jacket and a deer skin suitcase.

He can't be a dream, can he?

Please call in, listeners, and let us know if you can remember anything else.

This Monday through Friday is the annual Night Vale Career Fair at the Downtown Convention Center.

There will be dozens of booths representing phony local businesses that will take your resumes and photos via hidden surveillance cameras and conduct sample interviews designed to badger you into implicating yourself in nefarious activities.

generation Night Vale residents, particularly those whose parents were originally born in Maine, Massachusetts, Canada, Micronesia, and Suriname, are strongly encouraged to attend.

This year's keynote speaker is an audio tape of droning moans leaden with subliminal tips about achieving personal prosperity and how to come clean about the terrible things you have done, you Cretan.

Last year's fair featured several very high profile arrests and exciting door prizes.

Tickets are $25

or $15 if you still have working retinas to scan.

Over the weekend, Teddy Williams, owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, sent us some security camera footage of what he believes to be the first ever glimpse of citizens of the underground city deep below Lane 5.

Early Saturday morning, Fun Complex cameras picked up blurry motion near the soda machine.

The footage is quite fuzzy and difficult to discern.

Perhaps it is merely rats or raccoons digging through an uncovered supply of junk food.

But it is, of course, much more likely that a lost nation of people living in the bowels of a small town bowling alley are finally revealing themselves, taking our food supplies and preparing for war.

Teddy told us that he believes this city to be thousands strong and ready to move into Night Vale, ready to take arms against the upper world, as they probably call us.

Ready to conquer this heaven and become the righteous owners of our sun-soaked, precious land, we assume.

It takes very little extrapolation to believe that they worship a god named Huntokar, who demands sacrifice to keep their underground city thriving in the absence of nourishing sunlight.

And a fair assumption is that they are ruled by a child king, recently coronated, who is too weak to rein back the generals intent on marching upon us in war.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you care for your community, your town, your nightvale, like I do,

You will arm yourselves.

You will rally your neighbors to militia.

You will point fingers at those who do not wish to fight and have them rounded up into pens.

This is no time for the weak.

We are at a presumptive war with a projected enemy whom we cannot yet see or even be certain of, but who are probably bloodthirsty giants.

If you would like to learn more about starting a militia, simply learn to be a true American.

That's how you'll know.

And remember, Night Vale is at war.

Your careless talk costs lives.

They know we are here, and it seems somebody talked.

Who was it, Nightvale?

Was it Steve Carlsberg?

Did Steve Carlsberg talk?

Maybe a group of good citizens should go have a chat with Steve and find out what he's been saying and to whom.

Stay by your radios, listeners.

We will report further as events warrant.

More now on the man in the tan jacket.

Old woman Josie called to tell us that her angel friends are saying that the deer skin suitcase is full of flies.

The angels would not tell her more, explaining that knowing more would jeopardize her eternal soul as well as their own statuses as angels.

They did not want to mess with that.

Old Woman Josie added that she thinks the man in the tan jacket is just a salesman of some sort.

A fly salesman, she bets, wandering from town to town with polished shoes and a suitcase full of flies.

Oh, I just can't stand those fly salesmen, she said, ringing my doorbell at 3 a.m.

wanting to show me samples and asking for glasses of orange milk.

The Night Vale Daily Journal has announced that, despite cost-cutting measures and mandatory subscription laws, it is facing a huge budget shortfall this year.

We cannot pay back our printers or our delivery crews,

said editor Leanne Hart in a prepared statement whispered through my mail slot late last night.

And we have already had to banish much of our staff into the sand wastes of the desert

she went on to explain that this budget shortfall has nothing to do with the reported lavish birthday party she threw for herself in nightvale stadium featuring a lazy river made entirely of champagne and a birthday cake topped with very thin slices of moon rock

in an addendum she tapped in morse code on my bathroom window.

She said that the journal is considering all new sources of income, including creating additional advertising space and mugging nightvale citizens, and that I shouldn't mention the whole birthday party thing after all,

because

she was never even born.

So, how could she have had a birthday party?

She spent the rest of the night tapping out the phrase, birthdays are a fake idea, which actually was a pretty relaxing sound to fall asleep to.

Hey, kids and parents, time once again for our children's fun fact science corner.

Today, we are exploring common birds and their meanings.

An eagle indicates that an important phone call is impending.

A sparrow says that you should beware the sea and sell any stocks invested in food-based companies.

A pigeon means that your mother has died or that all is well.

It's a bit uncertain.

A hummingbird tells us that the physical constants of the universe are slowly degrading and may someday shift, invalidating the laws of physics and instantly wiping out the universe as we know it while simultaneously creating an entirely new universe in a single transcendent moment of genocide and genesis.

As for hawks, well,

no one knows what hawks mean or if they are real.

Have you ever even seen a hawk?

Of course not.

No one has.

This has been our children's fun fact science corner.

And now a word from our sponsors.

Today's program has been sponsored by the physical act of gulping.

For thousands of years, gulping has been there for human beings when they needed an expressive gesture of the throat.

Whether you want want to indicate nervousness about an upcoming test or appointment, fear of the faceless old woman who lives secretly in your home, or just want to ingest milk faster than with regular swallowing, gulping is the way to go.

Forget sweating,

never mind shivering, sneezing, ugh.

When you think physical actions, think gulping.

Gulp now and receive a complimentary prize package, which will be conveniently buried in an unmarked spot somewhere in the scrub lands.

Find it, and it's yours.

Goop.

This just in.

The Sheriff's Secret Police has just issued an important request related to our earlier story.

They asked that all Night Nightvale citizens be on the lookout for a man in a tan jacket carrying a deer skin suitcase.

He is about five or six foot something,

probably with hair and normal human features.

He was last seen early this morning on the unlit gravel-paved stretch of Oak Trail near Larry Leroy's house out on the edge of town.

The man in the tan jacket was reportedly seen in the moonless black standing next to a refrigerator engulfed in flames.

He was smoking a cigarette.

Witnesses claimed he stared at them as they slowly drove by on the darkened country road.

But despite the prolonged eye contact, the witnesses still could not describe his face to police.

Two days prior, the man in the tan jacket was seen standing in a park.

No one can remember which park, but they're fairly certain it was a park.

Or, maybe,

it was in the old Navy outlet store or near the invisible clock tower.

It wasn't quite clear.

Either way, the man was definitely standing with his deer skin suitcase and staring up at the sun for hours.

He followed the bizarre glowing orb, which is somehow the source of all light and life and oh god, the sun, are you kidding us with this thing?

We don't even have time for that mystery,

the secret police then interjected.

Secret police officials added that if you see a man in a tan jacket carrying a deer skin suitcase, write down what you see immediately.

The city council has temporarily lifted their ban on pens and pencils so that citizens can help law enforcement on this matter.

Once you write down your encounter, call 911 immediately.

or simply say, hey, police, out loud.

We're all being monitored almost 24-7,

so they'll probably hear you just fine.

Let's go now to traffic.

There is a car.

It's not in Night Vale, or even in the desert that cradles our little town.

It's out somewhere beyond that.

There are many cars there, but I'm speaking only about one.

Blue, squarish, with tires and windows and an engine that works most of the time.

A woman is driving it, and she is also glancing whenever she can at the child in the passenger seat.

He is a child, but he is fifteen.

You understand.

She is glancing at him, but she is not saying anything,

and he is not saying anything either.

She wants to cry,

or she wants to push him out of the car, or she wants to go back in time and insist on using a condom.

Only she would never do that.

She wouldn't change any of this, really, not for all the money, piles of money, some of it defunct money from defunct and absent governments.

She wouldn't give any of this back.

So So she drives her car,

blue, squarish, with tires and windows, and an engine that works most of the time.

And she glances at the fifteen-year-old child,

and neither of them speaks.

This

has been traffic.

And now

the weather.

You chose to hit play on this podcast today.

Smart Choice.

Progressive loves to help people make smart choices.

That's why they offer a tool called Auto Quote Explorer that allows you to compare your progressive car insurance quote with rates from other companies so you save time on the research and can enjoy savings when you choose the best rate for you.

Give it a try after this episode at progressive.com.

Progressive casualty insurance company and affiliates.

Not available in all states or situations.

Prices vary based on how you buy.

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 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 Greece to the Dark Knight.

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.

Ladies and gentlemen, during the break, I received a call from someone claiming to be an angel.

Now, I don't know if this was a prank or not, as no one has ever actually proven that they've talked to an angel, even old woman Josie's word is just that,

her word.

But listeners, I think this had to have been an angel because my face became hot, and the voice filled every part of my body.

And tears were flowing down my face the instant I touched the phone receiver, and the whole room was lit up in

well

how can I describe this

a bright black beam illuminating every atomic detail

and the angel

if that is indeed who called the angel said that the man in the tan jacket with the deer skin suitcase was from a place underneath the earth,

underneath our knowledge, a vast world

right below our feet.

I asked for more,

but the angel, if that is indeed who called, whispered only

a flower in the desert.

And it filled me with ecstasy

and

dread.

Then the call ended and the black ray of truth was gone

and I was breathless and alone.

And dear listeners,

the silence.

Well,

it was unlike any silence you have ever not

heard.

So our mystery man remains unfound,

and I'm still not sure why an angel would have to use a telephone, but for now

we can only

know what we know

and that is that we don't know

Thank you again for listening listeners

I look forward to another fine year,

a new year, well spent with all of you out there.

Stay tuned next for two commercial free hours of E-Sharp.

Good night, Night Vale.

Be alert and write down everything you cannot comprehend.

Until next time.

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 Invocation of the Duke by Da Ka, Hip Hop Orchestra.

Find out more at myspace.com/slash Da Ka.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio.

Check out welcometonightvale.com for more information on this show as well as amazing and weird nightvale stuff you can buy.

And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link.

It's what keeps this show running.

Today's proverb, biologically speaking, we are all made up of smaller people.

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 Nightvale, 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.