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Today I have been told to give a mandatory editorial and... ignore the news that comes across my desk. While I would usually question my journalistic integrity by indulging such a request, the fact that the station management door is open for the second time in my memory and that the building is surrounded by the sheriff's secret police is strongly urging me not to question the motion. So, listeners, I hope you know what you're in for.
Carlos. Sweet, beautiful Carlos. A year of mandatory environmental adaptation has served this town's favorite scientist well, if I say so myself. He, for example, is used to the blazing sun of the day and the cold void of the night. He has learned that the best wardrobe is a versatile wardrobe, and has invested in a functional "parka" lab coat, a black cloak to assist in blending in with the hooded figures in times of danger, and, with my help, his own set of fashionable furry pants. He says that he enjoys even the mystery of Night Vale's sense of fashion, to which I tittered like a blue jay and nodded.
Not to be crass, listeners, for this is a radio station, but he is quite a lot more forward than I had previously conceived. He filled out parts of the City Council report for our next date before we have even decided to go out again. It is truly dream come true. A dream come true that is not a dreadful and terrifying community dream, of course. Perhaps soon he will share with children listening on this station his scientific endeavors for our monthly educational session. But first he has to deal with his program management, which I hear is not very different from station management in our own little corner. In fact, management around Night Vale is consistently horrifying, as many of our listeners know, but we will not let that deter from quality programming.
I sure hope Carlos is alright. I know, listeners! Since I have been given a mandatory free night here on our local community radio and it is not within my current power to actually inform you of important events such as road closures and safety, I could give Carlos a call! He is probably very busy trying to figure out what it is that the sheriff's secret police will not let me report on or think about, but I'm sure he won't mind the call. Besides, it's been quite a while since his golden voice went out over our radio waves. Let's put him on speaker, shall we?
["Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" begins playing over the radio]
That is Carlos's ringback tone. I am not one to brag, listeners, but before our first romantic encounter it was the default violins and--oh!
"Hello? Cecil?"
"Yes~?"
"I am quite busy, Cecil. Oh, am I on the radio?"
He sounds quite nice, doesn't he, listeners? If I could swathe your ears in Carlos's beautiful and perfect voice forever I would.
"Cecil, you can't do the radio show and talk to me at the same time. It is already disorienting to hear what I am saying in this moment come out of my radio."
Ooooh! He is tuned in already. I can't believe it. I thought perhaps that he knew of my occupation but did not partake personally, which would have been fine, and it seems that I was wrong. Isn't that wonderful?
"Cecil, I will not be a party in your narration of our current relationship. This is getting out of hand. Please let the listeners know that--"
["Who Are You?" by The Who begins to play; Cecil's ringtone.]
Oh, it seems I am getting a call from the sheriff's secret police. Goodbye, pork dumpling!
[click!]
Mmhmm. Yes. Well. That is certainly pertinent. No, of course not. Mhm. Yes. Well, I never. Alright. Tell your wife hi for me. Alright. Goodbye!
[click!]
Well, listeners, it seems that the thing I had not been able to think about has gone away in some form or fashion that I cannot even imagine. However, since all news that has passed onto my desk has been thoroughly sterilized with a flamethrower it appears that actual news reporting is still beyond my capability. I will tell you what I can see through my small, greasy window. The sky is a fascinating aubergine. Life as we know it is busy on the streets, square dancing with every individual it meets. The night is young and full of possibility. Possibilities like the likely appearance of the sheriff's secret police at your very door.
Stay tuned for two hours of nails running over a chalkboard.
Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.