Welcome to Night Vale - The Orbiting Human Circus (of the Air): Season One, Episode 3
Episode Date: November 9, 2016Will the famed storytelling cricket (Tim Robbins) return? Plus, Charlie Day and Mary Elizabeth Ellis perform Shakespeare as you’ve never heard it and the janitor pushes host John Cameron to the very... brink. Thanks to Rocket Mortgage by Quicken Loans and HelloFresh for supporting our podcast! Go to HelloFresh.com and use the code OHC to get $35 off your first week of deliveries, and check out Rocket Mortgage at QuickenLoans.com/OHC. In November 2016, the janitor will be cleaning a venue near you! Upcoming tour dates: www.orbitinghumancircus.com Featuring John Cameron Mitchell as Mr. Cameron, Julian Koster as the Janitor, and Drew Callander as the Narrator, with Tim Robbins as the Cricket, Charlie Day as Macbeth, and Mary Elizabeth Ellis and Lady Macbeth, and the Alicia Svigals Klezmer Ensemble featuring the late Evan Harlan (Julian's uncle) on accordion and North the Singing Saw. Written and created by Julian Koster. Co-directed by and developed with Ellie Heyman. Produced by Christy Gressman. Featuring musical composition and arrangement by Thomas Hughes and music by The Music Tapes. Full credits: www.orbitinghumancircus.com Part of the Night Vale Presents network: www.nightvalepresents.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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Howdy y'all. It is Jeffrey Craneer. I'm not sure which episode of Welcome to Nightville you're listening to, but I am speaking to you from April of 2026. And I'm here to tell you we're going to be in Europe. If you want to see Nightville live and you're going to be in Europe, come check us out at the end of May. We're going to be in Edinburgh on May the 27th. We will be in Manchester on the 28th, London on the 29th, and Amsterdam on May the 30th. Just go to Welcome to Nightville.com slash live to see the show dates and to get your tickets. This is.
our newest Nightville live show Murder Night in Blood Forest. It is so much fun. Please come check it out.
Also, coming up this month here in April, it is the return of Alice Isn't Dead, brand new episodes of our other crazy hit podcast.
This is written by Joseph Fink, produced and with music by Dissin and starring Jacique and Nicole.
So make sure you are still subscribed to Alice Isn't Dead and go get those on April the 13th as new episodes come out.
Finally, speaking of other shows, do you want to hear us talk about other things?
things. We have three other really great chat shows. First of all, there's Good Morning Nightvail
for all of your Nightvale needs. You can hear Hal, Meg, and Symphony talk about every single
episode in order of Welcome to Nightvail. Also, we have Random Horror Number Nine. That is me and
Nightville star Cecil Baldwin talking about horror movies one at a time in a random order. And then
Joseph and Meg do best, worst, which is a really fun podcast where they look at hit TV shows and they
review the best rated on IMDB, the worst rated on IMDB, and if you're a Patreon member,
they will review the middleest rated on IMDB. So check out all of those at Nightvillepresents.com
or just wherever you get your podcast. And hey, thanks.
Hi, it's Jeffrey Kraner. This is episode three of Orbiting Human Circus. It's the last episode
of this new podcast will be playing here on the Welcome to Nightville feed, but it is not the
last episode of the podcast. If you want to hear all future episodes of the Orbiting
Human Circus, make sure you go subscribe to their feed directly on iTunes or wherever it is you get
your podcasts.
We at Nightvale Presents have been over the moon about this show.
That's a metaphor.
There's no such thing as a moon.
The music, the acting, and the wonderfully unique stories and unpredictable paths it takes
have been everything we could want out of a podcast, which is why we're so proud to present
it to you.
It's been a welcome addition to our podcast family.
We hope you feel the same way.
If you do, then don't forget to subscribe directly to the orbiting human circus of the air.
Thanks.
And now, let's start the show.
Sometime last week, stagehands Jacques and Francois had this conversation in the backstage lounge.
I didn't even tell you about this.
Yeah.
I caught that janitor kid backstage.
What, the kid that was banned?
Yeah, the one that was banned during the show, he's backstage.
I'm out for a cigarette.
I see him standing there.
How does he get back in?
That's the thing.
I don't know.
Hey, hey, hey, us, right?
I mean, so I'm about to throw him out.
Right.
You know what I'm saying?
He's like, if you let me stay, I'll tell you where Mr. Cameron gets the acts from.
First of all, he's full of shit.
Can you believe that?
And that was a horrible, that was a horrible impression.
That's exactly what he sounds like.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, exactly what he sounds like.
So, 10 minutes, I come back to him and I go, all right, kid, time to pay up.
What's the secret?
Right.
He won't tell me.
Yeah.
So I push him around a bit.
You're a tough guy.
Hey, tough than anyone here.
You know that.
All right, Rocky.
All right, Rocky. Pull it in.
You know that. You know that. But get this.
Yeah.
He goes, even Mr. Cameron doesn't know. I can't tell you.
I'm like, really, kid?
Mr. Cameron doesn't know where he gets his own acts from.
Hello, this is Drew Callender. It's so good to see you again.
Yes, I can see you.
This November, the janitor is cleaning venues in the northern U.S.
And he invites you to run away and spend a night with the Orbiting Human Circus.
Come visit us by going to orbitinghumancircass.com slash shows on tour now.
And on behalf of the Orbiting Human Circus, we want to say hello and thanks to Hellofresh.com for supporting us.
Hello, Hello, Hello, Fresh, and thanks.
And listeners, you can get $35 off your first week of deliveries when you go to hellofresh.com and use the offer code, OHC.
We're very happy to have Rocket Mortgage as our sponsor because they're not like traditional banks offering traditional loans.
And we're not very traditional here at the orbiting human circus.
For instance, I made an untraditional choice when I moved to New York City and chose to seek a career as a professional couch surfer.
For all you couch surfers out there, you know how hard it can be to apply for a bank loan when you don't have a traditional job or your own address.
But Rocket Mortgage makes it easy by bringing the entire process online.
You can share bank statements and pay stubs at the press of a button on your phone or tablet and get approved for a custom mortgage in minutes.
You don't have to lug all those boxes of old paperwork around with you because, let's face it, when you're a couch surfer, you have to travel light.
You can do it all from the comfort and convenience of someone else's couch.
So if you're looking to refinance your mortgage or buy a home, go check out Rocket Mortgage today.
at quickenloans.com slash oh hc that's oh hc for orbiting human circus equal housing lender license
in all 50 states and mls consumer access dot org number 3030 and now please sit back and enjoy
episode three starts us off with its version of wagner's put no pork in my pork by hats
featuring north the incredible singing saw and as the earnest hardware sauce sings its little
heart out they are listening in the fashionable restaurant
besides the Sen.
I'm so glad that Gaston put on the radio, darling.
You know everybody's talking about that story the cricket was telling.
Cricket, darling.
Listening in the bagel bakeries of Brooklyn.
The craziest thing that means, the crickets tell my story.
The crazy bird they got playing, the music swoops down in the taxi cricket.
Just like that.
Listening in the taxi cabs of Leningrad.
Trug, to be able to say us to stop us.
And at the switchboards of the perpetual broadcasting corporation itself, they are listening.
Hello, perpetual broadcasting corporation.
We're sorry, still no news on the cricket.
Well, perpetual broadcasting corporation.
I'm very sorry, sir.
No.
Professional broadcasting corporation.
Yes, no.
You're cricket.
You're talking about it.
Yet, we know, I'm fine.
Yet beside the stage, we see our host John Cameron in the final throes of exhaustion
and the janitor himself standing despondently beside him.
And what's this?
In the janitor's hands?
A cricket scientist.
casket, carefully made out of toothpicks lined with cotton balls.
But what's happened?
We take you back to 4 a.m. this morning.
The janitor wanders the empty passageways of the Eiffel Tower
desperately in search of the cricket.
Oh, please, cricket, where are you?
Cricket.
Suddenly he hears footsteps, and
bumps into host John Cameron,
who, his normally immaculate suit dirty and crumpled,
staggers dangerously close to the towers out of railing.
Oh, it's you.
Mr. Cameron, what are you doing here? It's late.
I'm trying to find the cricket you lost.
So sorry. I thought I locked the cage.
I didn't know the orchestral was going to get out.
Do you know what I had to do earlier?
Pump the orchestral stomach.
Cricket wasn't in there.
Oh my God.
Why did I even trust you?
What's happened to my life?
What are these acts?
I have no idea where they come from.
but he wants to know if they're real.
I have no idea.
Maybe none of this is real.
Maybe I'm just having a psychotic break.
The janitor's eyes widened.
That's what happens.
When you base your life on lies,
when you take credit for something you don't deserve.
There wasn't even an act today at the show.
This is the first time it was ever happened to me.
I looked everywhere.
There was always something waiting for me.
There was nothing.
Everybody would know the truth.
Then I saw you, you and the cricket.
I thought, my God, an act.
I've been saved.
Saved.
I'm ruined, but I want to help you.
Help me.
Don't you understand.
You're the janitor.
You're not part of the show.
I'll find the cricket.
Don't you ever come near me or my show again?
I know how you find the axe.
Push me off the tower.
Just push me.
I'll just stand right here by the edge with my eyes closed.
It's okay, Mr. Cameron.
Horrified by his words effect, the janitor,
tentatively puts her hand on John Cameron's shoulder.
I mean, I mean, I know how anyone can find acts like that.
What?
How?
Well, it's all about how you look at things.
Like, take the tap dancing mouse, for instance.
Yes, yes.
If you see a mouse, and you look at it like you want to hit it with a broom
or you're scared it as diseases,
it'll just run away from you.
But if you love it, and you keep really still,
it'll come right up to you.
How else are you going to find out if a mouse can tap dance?
You know, it's good that you can live and work independently.
Thank you.
Get away from me!
Get away!
Holding back tears, the janitor continues to search,
but it's hopeless.
Finding one lost cricket in the hole of the Eiffel Tower?
He studies every inch of the floor,
examining every piece of lint growing more and more depressed.
Please, please, come on, come on.
Sunrise. The morning mail is delivered at the base of the Eiffel Tower.
John Cameron sleeps draped over an observatory telescope on the top observation deck.
Suddenly he is startled!
Mr. Cameron! Mr. Cameron! There he is! Over there, by the boxes! I chased him down here.
What?
The cricket! Over there on the floor, I'd give it up, and there he was.
The cricket. You're sure that's the one?
Yes.
How?
So I'm shaking his fist at the orchestral.
Thank God.
Mr. Cameron.
Oh, hello, Jacques.
You'll never believe it.
A hundred bags of mail just arrived.
They were all about that cricket.
I bet he's just about the most famous cricket on the earth.
Yes, I imagine he is, Jacques.
No, here's the crane with the lettuce.
Hey, you want the mail over here, right?
Wait, no, no, no.
The cricket!
No, no!
All leading to the present moment
where our host John Cameron stands holding the tiny toothpick casket,
glancing woefully from it to a large group of thespians,
costumed seemingly to perform William Shakespeare's immortal Macbeth?
That was the orbiting human circus orchestral featuring North, the singing saw.
Ladies and gentlemen, I know many of you are here tonight in the hopes of seeing a certain cricket.
Where's the cricket?
However, it is important to remember in times like these with our flashy modern entertainment
like tap dancing, mice, singing, sores, and yes, storytelling crickets,
it's important to do honor to the high art that is the genesis of all that graces the modern stage.
The immortal classics, ladies and gentlemen, that paved the way for the superficial diversions of the now.
We present to you our performance of Shakespeare's Scottish play.
Bring out the greatest!
Yes, well, please do put your hands together for a play which is sure.
to turn your laughter into tears.
Where's the cricket?
We give you Macbeth.
Bring out the cricket!
Macbeth, ladies and gentlemen, Macbeth.
When shall we three meet again?
But in the audience, they are not listening.
The word cricket whispered in chorus throughout the house.
And in the fancy cafes beside the Sen, they are not listening.
Well, with all this build-up, I'm simply not going to enjoy my dinner if they don't find that cricket.
Don't be so demanding, Lilith.
hands lounge behind the broadcast ballroom. They are not listening. Okay, if they riot
Pierre, I need you stage left, Jacques, I need you stage right, and I will shield John.
Yep, Miss Saltier, yeah. And even in his seat beside the stage, John Cameron, our host, is not
listening. He slumps despondently in his chair beside the stage. His eyelids growing heavy,
he drifts and drifts.
Let's see if there shall be done a deed of dreadful note
What's to be done?
I've done the deed.
Did this thou not hear a noise?
But what's this?
Like the Doberman pincher of showmanship he is, John snaps to attention.
What was Lady Macbeth saying?
These parts full of pastries are greedy, greedy, greedy, greedy.
And why was she straddling a mechanical bull?
What was this? Some horrid modernist deconstruction?
Good Lord, not on his watch.
I'll be the first to blink. I've crazy glued my eyelids, so not me, because I've crazy glued my eyelids.
Oh, crazy glued my eyelids. Woo! Blight like a shape!
Bray! And hang twigs my toes!
But I was Lady Macbeth suddenly being played by his aged and annoying Aunt Helga.
Listen, Gravian, wash the pin and terra from your nostrils.
Those aren't the lines? And Macbeth himself!
That's Morty the mechanic from the garage down the block
and he's smacking a newborn baby.
No acrobats, but I robbed to kiss a whale.
So white.
To kiss it and give it ice cream, of course.
But all I have are pastries.
Greedy, greedy pastries.
Give me your mustache.
And at last the dream grows peaceful.
And John relaxes and watches tiny Macbeth bubbles drift all around his weary head.
Suddenly a tap on his shoulder.
Mr. Cameron, wake up! Wake up!
What?
John Cameron awakes in his seat beside the stage,
on which he hears Macbeth being played correctly,
to find the janitor yelling and gesticulating wildly.
The cricket! I was all about to bury him,
and the top of the casket opened, and he sat up and started chirping.
He's right here in my hand.
Look. What?
Listen, I brought you in the machine. He'll tell you himself.
Oh, Mr. Cameron, when I saw all of those beautiful letters, all of those nice people wrote, I fainted dead away.
My God.
But then I came to, in the beautiful bird-proof bed you made for me out of toothpicks lined with cotton balls.
It was the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me.
Oh, well.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I have not slept so securely.
very long time.
My God, it's a miracle.
A modern radio miracle.
John Cameron hugs the janitor.
Oh.
And he hugs the little cricket.
One thing I must ask you, when the radio broadcast is over,
may I keep the bird-proof bed?
With the compliments of the perpetual broadcasting corporation.
Oh, thank you.
John Cameron turns and rushes onto the stage where Macbeth continues.
News.
Tomorrow and tomorrow.
And tonight, we bring you a small...
And so the cricket begins to tell the shocking conclusion of the story the whole world was waiting for.
We will return with our cricket and our feature presentation.
Hello, listeners, and a special hello from our sponsor, Hello Fresh.
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That's OHC for orbiting Human Circus.
And now we return you to our cricket
in the conclusion of our feature presentation.
And so the cricket begins to tell
the shocking conclusion of the story.
the whole world was waiting for, that of Ladisla, genius clockmaker who realized that clocks run more
accurately counterclockwise, but whose clocks no one wanted, who, hungry and broke, could not
work for the noise of the poor children upstairs constantly begging their parents for dolls,
and who found himself suddenly making from scraps two dolls, which he gave the children to their
absolute delight. And as soon as this act of kindness was done, it seemed as though a miracle
happened. His counterclockwise clock suddenly became popular. As a joke, it broke his heart,
and he smashed his clocks and closed up his shop, and never came out. But then, months later,
the shutters on his windows suddenly went up, revealing a wondrous doll-shop.
His dolls spread all over Bucharest, until one day he disappeared.
Because this is what he had done.
On every doll was hidden a tiny catch beneath a layer of varnish that would rub off in a year's time.
This catch, once exposed, would trigger when bumped,
causing the doll's facial expression to change forever to a look of such hatred,
such hideous pain in bile it would give the children of Bucharest,
nightmares to last a lifetime.
And what happened?
I give you our cricket on the air.
When brutally attacked, I was telling the story of Ladislaw Kovsky.
He has filled all Bucharest with his horrible dolls, and so he has to run away before the first catch is sprung.
He flees to Paris.
He turns to alcohol.
He ends up on the street.
Here, at last, Ladislaw feels he belongs.
At least he thinks, a man who had done what he has done deserves to be frozen,
deserves to die slowly, and here at last he would.
But he does not die.
Quickly or slowly.
His constitution proves surprisingly robust, and so he lives.
Wishing to die nearly every moment,
Ladislaw lives and lives.
And then, one night, he has a dream.
He is with a little girl, and that little girl is his.
The little girl looks up at him with a look of love
such as no one has given him in all his life.
Its feeling fills all his soul.
He, but then he realizes the little girl is whole.
one of his dolls. He sees the face hasn't changed yet, but the varnish, it's rubbed away,
the catch, it will spring any moment. He struggles madly to take it from her, but cannot reach
it, as if space and time become quicksand. And then it happens. He hears the catch strike.
His heart runs cold. He turns his eyes to the doll, but the doll's face has not switched.
The girl's has. And her face has switched.
switched to such an inhuman mask of pure hatred. Ladislaw's hatred. Terrifying cruelty.
Ladislaw's cruelty. He feels as if everything he has ever loved in the world has been
snatched away from him, never to be given back. All goes cold, so cold. Ladislaw wakes
up in the act of vomiting and lets loose a scream of such horror. It is heard that night,
both banks of the river, sane. He walks the parish streets that night like a ghost, feels apart
from all things on the earth. He wants to be beaten. He wants to return to Romania and take
all of the abuse that would come, be sent to prison and be hated by everyone, grown-ups
and children alike, for what he really is. He sets out, as if in a trance on the journey home,
when he reaches Bucharest. He expects a massive outcry. He makes it all the way across the city,
and no one noticed, at last arriving at the first house whose children he had given his horrid dolls.
He wants to cry. Like a child, he is terrified, so afraid the time has come. He reaches the door.
He manages to knock much too loud.
The turning of the doorknob from within,
the creaking of the hinges, the opening of the door.
And then the face, peering out at him, it was the mother.
And then the look upon her face.
Horror.
Ladis Lakovskovsky!
My God!
What's become of you?
In her voice, warmth, concerned?
Come in, my God, come in.
She takes his hand, leads him.
him inside. My dear, it's Ladislav Kovskovsky. Ladislaw Kovsky, the man answers in shock.
Here! They sit him down, bring him water, and then their little girl appears. Look,
Romika, it's Lavasla, the man who made your dolly. I know who he is, mummy. Everybody does.
Ladislaw looks at the doll clutched in the little girl's fingers and sees the doll's sweet face,
and it's just as it was, unchanged.
But he can see the varnish has rubbed off
and the tiny catch exposed, waiting to trigger.
The girl looks to him so like the girl in his dream.
Panicked, he reaches for the doll,
but unlike his dream, he is able to touch the doll.
He pulls it from the little hand, so hard,
that the doll smacks against the table.
Expecting it to trigger, he buries the doll in his chest
to shield the girl from its change.
But still, he hears no click.
The face did not change.
Amazed, he bangs the doll on the floor twice more just as he. Still, it does not open.
And as he looked at it, feverishly, madly, he realized this catch would not open, could not open.
It was at least a sixteenth of a centimeter too long, too big for its opening. It could never be struck.
They give him food and a bath. Lattislaw could barely talk. His mind is swimming. He stumbles out of their house.
And he brings himself to the next house.
In house after house, he finds the same reaction, the same treatment.
The catches had not opened.
They'd all been made too long, each and every last one.
In each house, he has given a hero's welcome.
The children look at him with reverence, and the parents treat him as an honoured member of their family.
He finds that in Romania he is considered a great man.
His dolls are national treasure, but one to be played with,
to be passed down from generation to generation.
It was by this measure that he marked the time of childhood for an entire country.
So, what had Ladislaw Kovskowski done?
He had not brought nightmares to the children of Romania.
He was a man who, late for an important appointment, loses his keys and searches for them madly
when all the time they were right there in front of his nose.
How often in those cases is the appointment not one on which we really wish to go?
It is said that in Lattisla-Koskowski's time, all children in Romania were his children,
his dolls outliving him in their hundreds, and buried deep inside some, gone forever, and smothered by a visage of love, was all the pain and frustration of a man who had been a great failure, hurt and rejected, with no idea at all of the hero he would become.
Casting from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the orbiting human circus of the air.
Well, that's it for this week, ladies and gentlemen.
I'm John Cameron.
And I'm, shh.
Broadcasting from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
The orbiting human circus wishes you a good night.
Hi, we're Meg Bashwinner.
And Joseph Fink.
Of welcome to Night Vale.
And on our new show, The Best Worst, we explore the Golden Age of Television.
To do that, we're watching the IMDB viewer-rated best and worst episodes of classic TV shows.
The episode of Star Trek, where Beverly Crusher has sex with a ghost, the episode of the X-Files,
where Scully gets attacked by a vicious housecat.
And also, the really good episodes, too.
What can we learn from the best and worst of great television?
Like, for example, is it really a bad episode, or do people just hate women?
The best worst.
Available wherever you get your podcasts.
