Welcome to Night Vale - 35 - Lazy Day

Episode Date: November 15, 2013

It's a totally lazy day in Night Vale. Feeling really tired. Increasingly tired. Here's some news, I guess: updates on the Summer Reading Program, the Brown Stone Spire, and a delicious new cereal on the market. Just so lazy. Everything slowing down. Weather: "Mijn Manier" by Brainpower, youtube.com/mcbrainpower. Music: Disparition, disparition.info. Logo: Rob Wilson, robwilsonwork.com Produced by Night Vale Presents. Written by Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor. Narrated by Cecil Baldwin. More Info: welcometonightvale.com, and follow @NightValeRadio on Twitter or Facebook. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey, Nightville, it is Jeffrey Craneer speaking to you from April of 2026 with a couple of cool things coming up. First off, we're going to be in Europe touring our newest Nightville live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest. We're going to be in Edinburgh, UK, on May 27th. We'll be in Manchester on the 28th. We will be in London on May 29th, and we will be in Amsterdam on May the 30th. You can get tickets for these shows at Welcome to Nightville.com slash live, and hopefully we'll have more. shows coming up later this year. Who knows? Just get on our newsletter. Go to Welcome to Nightville. Sign up for our newsletter. We will send you emails twice a month to let you know all of the news that you need to know about Welcome to Nightville. One of the big news things to tell you right now

is that our other hit podcast, Alice Isn't Dead, is coming back on April the 13th, written by Joseph Fink, produced by Disparition and starring Jacica Nicole. More episodes of Alice Isn't Dead return on April the 13th, so make sure you are still subscribed to that podcast. Finally, do you want some cool Nightville merch? Go to Welcome to Nightville.com, click on store, and we have all kinds of cool t-shirts, things for the summer, tank tops, beach towels, and if you like coffee mugs, if you want calendars, if you want backpacks, all kinds of cool stuff there. So check out Welcome to Nightville.com And click on store, click on live. If you want to see our live shows, we will see you in Europe. And hey, thanks.

No one has seen the trees this week. Hopefully they'll come back soon. Welcome to Nightvale. Nothing much to say about this day in Nightvale. Today is just a lazy day in our beautiful little town. The heat is unusually strong for this time of year. Assuming you believe in concepts like time and year and unusual. Flies are buzzing around and around a trash can somewhere.

Francis Donaldson, manager of the Antiques Mall, is waving listlessly at a wall of old items ready to be bought anew. Her hand, a slow signal of submission to inactivity. The faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home is finding herself clicking the same apiology website she's read a million times. I myself am slumped against this desk, murmuring into this microphone, too tired by the heat

to give more than a token effort to the work of my life. Ours is a quiet now No one is speaking but me If speaking took me any energy If it were not merely a reflex of my living form Then I myself would not be speaking either Carlos Perfectly imperfect Carlos

Is the only one feeling industrious today He's mowing the lawn and whistling, and the lawn is whistling back. And now, the news, I guess. Alert citizens from all over Nightvale are reporting a man in a tan jacket, standing behind the Taco Bell, near the dumpster, and the constantly ringing payphone. He is plucking insects out of the air,

and stuffing them into his dear skin suitcase. Alert citizens report that they don't remember what his nimble hands look like, and many of them lost track of what they were saying mid-sentence, lapsing into a gaped mouth silence. All of them received one stamp on their Alert Citizen card. As always, five stamps means stop sign immunity for a year.

Also, congratulations to Jake Garcia, who has completely filled up three alert citizen cards, thus giving him the mandatory right to disappear forever. His entire family, in a statement given in monotone unison, said that they were proud and that they didn't miss him much, really. Remember what Secret Police mascot, Barks on Wii, always says, Citizens be alert, but not too alert. There is much that you should not see.

Only you can prevent your own house mysteriously catching on fire. Woof, woof! Oh, I bet Barks is such a cute little cartoon dog. Maybe someday the Secret Police will declassify, what he looks like. Update on the summer reading program from a couple of months ago. Those children who made it out of the library alive, bloodied, covered in the guts of librarians, and clutching reading lists far in advance of their grade level, have formed an organized militia

under the leadership of fellow survivor, 12-year-old Tamika Flynn. They have taken to conducting drills out in the sand wastes, hundreds of children, shouting, and moving in unison, as Tamika stands over them on a hilltop, watching for their weakness, encouraging their strength. Tamika has taken to wearing the detached hand of a librarian around her neck, as a warning to any who would dare face her, that she has already defeated the, most fearsome creature imaginable. When reached for comment, Tamika said,

We do not look around, we do not look inside, we do not sleep, our God is not a smiling God, and we are ready for this war. When asked to clarify, she challenged our reporter to a hundred days of hand-to-hand combat, our reporter declined by running away screaming, pursued by hundreds of battle-hardened children. It's still just a lazy day here in Night Vale. Mayor Pamela Winchell called a press conference, and then did not speak. She sat on a folding chair next to the podium, her head lolled back, taking a brief nap, before getting up and jumping, folding chair in hand, through a small, glowing portal she created in mid-air.

All of this would have been quite rude to the attending reporters if a single one of them had actually attended. But they called a press conference of their own to announce that they were just going to take the rest of the day off, if that was okay, that the still afternoon sunlight was somehow more conducive to a gentle rest than the dark cradle of night.

night. No one showed up to that press conference either. Carlos has vacuumed his living room and is now organizing his closets. He's holding up items and making decisions. He is humming. The grass cannot hum and so is silent. The vague yet menacing government agency would like to remind you that UFOs are totally not a thing. They remind you that UFOs are merely weather balloons, and further, that weather balloons are merely misplaced clouds, that clouds are merely dreams that have escaped our sleep, that sleep is merely a practice for death, that death is merely another facet of our world, no different from, say, sand or bicycles. And that the great glowing earth is merely the last thoughts of a dying man, laughing and

shaking his head weakly at the improbability of it all. Remember, it's not just the law, it's an illusion. Thanksgiving is just around the corner. And you know what that means. It means it's time for us to go, grovelling to the brown stone spire, thanking it for all that it has done and all that it has mercifully not done.

This is just a great time to get the family together, eat your fill, then crawl out through the sharp rocks and sand until your knees leave blood streaks on the barren earth, and you feel the brown stone spire loom up before you. But you dare not look. You dare not look. Thank you, you, you whisper, thank you, thank you. More plea than prayer, more fear than gratitude. And if it accepts what you have to say, you and your family can return to your homes, shaking, Safe. Together. Shaking. Together.

And if it does not accept what you say? It doesn't really matter what happens after that, does it? I mean, would knowing make it any easier? No. Knowing never does. The brown stone spire. Give thanks. Cry out, thanks. Scream, thanks.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today's broadcast is brought to you by Costco. How much could a body even weigh? In addition, today's broadcast is brought to you by waves of sound that are somehow carried by a form of light, and that a machine is turning into an invisible man talking to you intimately, quietly, into your ear. That doesn't seem natural to us. Strexcorp, Sinternists, Inc. distrust all that you previously trusted.

This day in which nothing happens continues to not. Even bodily functions are taking the day off. Reports are coming in that hearts are failing to beat, lungs failing to inflate, the muscles of the arms and legs turning to a loose, relaxed jelly. People are falling dead in the street, suddenly blue, suddenly seizing, spit, dribbling from their lips in tiny pools of foam and mud in the sand, loved ones looking on without the energy needed to weep.

Just nothing much of any kind going on. A lazy, lazy day. Our favorite local cereal company, FlakeyOs is gearing up to a now. their newest big product. Imaginary corn flakes. The cereal chefs down at Flakios are taking only the sweetest, most non-carcinogenic cobs of imaginary corn supplied by John Peters,

you know, the farmer. They are distilling that imaginary taste down to a crisp, flavor-packed imaginary corn flake, ready for you to eat out of a big bowl. of milk. We are very excited about this product, said Miranda Yesby of the new Flakio's board of directors. We are thrilled to be working with John Peters, you know, the farmer? I mean, as soon as we can find him. Has anyone seen him? He's become as hard to locate as is corn. Miranda also said that there are no plans to do viral marketing involving a sentient

transdimensional pyramid, as the costs on that last one were just too high. I mean, we had nothing to do with that, she said, but if we did, then we might say a certain sentient pyramid really got an outsized ego after one simple viral marketing campaign, and started making unreasonable demands like a transdimensional trailer on the location that is normal-sized on the outside, but contains within it vast looming spaces, impossible, endless. Also, health benefits. So if that were the case, we would probably have had to let the sentient pyramid go. Miranda then thanked us for attending the announcement and dug her way back into the Flaky O's offices using her large, claw-like pause.

And now, traffic. A few drops of ice melt, almost invisible as they slide down great slabs of mountain rock, joining together into a slight trickle, the mere suggestion of movement and water. That suggestion becoming more clear, Clear water, clearly moving in a clear trickle downwards, forming with others into a stream. A stream rolling over pebbles and around debris, hardly any force behind it, but implacable in its searching out of lower ground. And then, gasping from some height as a splash into a river, a deep river churning its churning its, way through a landscape, drawing boundaries over which wars can later be fought, slamming against

boulders with violence, but without malice, becoming wider, slower, like a human settling into the better part of age, a river that only shows evidence of movement when it carries some other thing, some life upon it. like a human settling into the better part of age. And finally, one last exit, a great engulfing by an ocean in which all water is the same water, in which we can finally find some rest,

like a human settling into the better. Like a human, settling, this has been. Traffic And the lazy day continues. A neon sign advertising the world's best burgers blinks uselessly in the glaring haze of the sun. It's light as small as the probability of its claim. The earth is starting to slow its rotation, joining in on the mass malaise.

magnetic fields are going crazy. They are the only things going crazy. Everything else is completely mellowed out. Those people with still functioning hearts and lungs are lounging around, saying, Oh, who cares? And what a bother! when presented with stimulus or thought. The earth is slowing.

Gravity is slacking off. My mic is floating. Carlos is also floating. And he's taking this opportunity to clean out the gutter on his roof. How industrious. How... Uh... I don't really...

have the energy to think of another word. Radio waves are reacting strangely to the loss of gravity. The change in magnetism as the earth slows. So if you are having difficulty receiving this message, we apologize, but won't do anything about it. Doing things, right? Movement? You know? Existing? Do you see what I mean? What's that? Intern Maureen is flicking her eyes up in her otherwise motionless face. Her mouth is set into a deep lull. Her cheeks are slack.

I believe she is indicating something. I suppose I should turn my head and look. I suppose. Oh, all right, here I go. Listeners, I am engaging the muscles in my neck and I am turning my head. Ah, I see. The sun is going out. Yes, a black tumor of darkness.

of absence is on the face of the brightness the brightness is dimming the source of all life is going is joining the rest of us in taking today to do nothing that's probably not good we should probably do something about that but it's like, well, anyway, at least I got to see how breaking bad ended.

And now I don't so much take you as just kind of leave you, just kind of disappear and gently nudge you towards in the heart of a world that soon won't be, The weather Album number six That can it My brain't you be, my brain'tie On my manner Spitter, did it

always on my manner From freestyle, Conan, to a live icon And, Blive with the life stooia and with words grow ya, yeah, also my old songs

They'll be able to But I go further with What you do, On my manner My Gil went It must on his manner Bise Heid in the words As no other,

And Verz my zinin'in'in' with deep-verlangen and I'm better than it's a lot of my manner That's her now not by me here Dames leased t'es t'ricks'r T'rlein'n from here Beas Ech'et with me, say always,

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did it on my manner. Unvergankleckin' music, the brian manner. No un-gapassionere troop, but doerbite in here. Levers' work and passion, that's the fact here. MCs, overall,

we know how late it is. Sond the holoches from the beep to the street, it is. Allgemeen be can't, I'm what I'm, because my binnersed, that's said and I rhyme as a vent.

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pain in my repertoire, but it's pleasure to make music to make, but well on my manner, it like for tier, but it is therapy. On my manner, I'm writing my text on, but well on my manner, and stel me quets, but on my way. No, never on her manner, Noid,

Bligh, Dicht by myself, On my manner, Noid on her manner, Noid on his manner, Think by yourself, Do it good, On my manner,

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dixedgown. Asoph Gott the sound with morons overshoot, hip hop is Natalie, Yuli, Saniora, Van The Slote, so got go — distant with your wife

handle, ja, what you feel in your soul, that is the power angle. Brainsteak with the It's in your face, it is gaar, it is wreat, it is war, so you know, un-goat, if you it well or not, you know from within, donnershoot what I do.

I'm doing, what I do, what I do, that do I'm well on my manner. Mama, I have it made, but well, on my manner, it makes me out what he says, that is his manner, and noid my manner, and noid my manner, never my way, live my life, but well on my way,

Welcome Well, well at my manner, do the ground beaver, but well on my manner, I'll my mean, stell my quets, but do it on my manner. I live my life my life, but well on my manner. Do the ground beaver, but well on my manner. I write my texts up, but well, at my manner. I still my quites more up, take it on my manner. Welcome back. Welcome back.

I guess from a crisis. Welcome back from, I guess, a crisis. How was it solved? How was the day saved? It wasn't. It didn't need to be. There are lulls and gaps and rests and stops. But this world stumbles on. The sun flared back. The world restarted. Stillbodies blue and the gray street gasped suddenly and rose back into the blue-gray light of day. We wake up, we move on. No state is our state forever. All is fleeting. Francis Donaldson, manager of the Antiques Mall, has gone back to violently smashing her stock of old items, as is usual.

The faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home has gone back to flitting around in the corner of your eye, rearranging your belongings, according to some unknown purpose. The flies are still buzzing around that trash can, but with more verve, more zest. Intern Maureen brought me some coffee. Ah, yeah, that's helping.

Coffee helps sometimes, though, doesn't it? Other times, it just makes things worse. I mean, everything does. Business is booming, people are moving, events transpiring. All as usual, all returning. We are up. We are full of energy. We are ready for the next great thing to be made for us and delivered to us and done to us. Carlos, meanwhile, says he's had a busy day and might take a nap now. That, well, that sounds nice. Listeners, I think now is the time at which I must say goodbye.

There's a place here in Night Vale, a place I'd like to be just now. Maybe my lazy day isn't quite done after all. Stay tuned next for a keening howl, a scratch at the door, a hood falling suddenly over your face, and a delicious roasted squash recipe, your family will just love. Good night, Night Vale, good night. Welcome to Nightvale as a production of Commonplace Books. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by Joseph Fink. The voice of Nightvale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Disparition. All of it can be found at

dispersion.com. Or at dispirition.com. This episode's weather was Mine Meneer by Brainpower. Find out more at YouTube slash MC Brainpower or under the same name on Twitter or Facebook. Comments, questions, email us at nightvale at commonplacebooks.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvelle Radio. Check out commonplacebooks.com for more information on this show, as well as all sorts of cool night veil stuff you can own. And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link. That'd be cool of you. Today's proverb. On this day in history, mundanity and terror, and food and love and trees. Hey, it's Jeffrey Craneer speaking to you from spring of 2026,

and did you know we are on tour in Europe? Welcome to Nightville. We'll be live on stage in Edinburgh on May 27th, Manchester on May 28th, London on May 29th, and Amsterdam on May 30th. This brand new live show is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, starring Cecil Baldwin, Symphony Sanders, me, and live original music by disparition.

These tours are so much fun, and they're for the diehard fan, the Nightvale new kid alike. So bring your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever. They don't got to know what Nightville is to like the show. Tickets to these shows are on sale now at Welcome to Nightveal.com slash live. Don't let time slip away. Get your tickets. Don't miss us when we're in your town because otherwise we'll all be sad. Get your tickets to our Europe Live tour right now at Welcome to Nightville.com slash live. And hey, thanks.