Those who live in glass houses should at least hang curtains around their bathroom. Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, let’s talk about community. Too often we stay in our little neighborhoods, with our doors and windows closed, cameras on our porches, signs in our yards that say “Keep out, Todd!” I mean, Todd is a little too chummy, if I’m honest. But I think there’s a happy medium between getting to know our neighbors and being Todd.

I’ve mentioned Larry Leroy before on this show. He lives out on the edge of town. He’s an artist and a kind old man. I’ve always considered him a friend. Though, I’m not sure why. I had never been to visit him, nor him me. I see him here at the station and around town from time to time, but that’s about it. And I don’t know. Something came over me the other day. Have no idea what it was, merely a suggestion floating in the ether, I suppose, that I should go visit Larry. That I should be more social in my own community.

Larry built a new house not far from where his old house was destroyed a few years back by a subterranean vortex. His new place is gorgeous. It’s a little one-and-one bungalow with a wrap-around porch and a bay window. His rock garden was decorated with homemade lawn art. Mostly abstract towers of sharpened scrap metal and piles of reused plastic twisted into colorful pyramids.

All of the art inside his house was his own, too. He had self-portraits holding bowls of fruit, self-portraits with dogs, nude self-portraits while wearing powdered wigs, and self-portraits of him painting self-portraits. And of course, Larry is famous for his dioramas. Lots of detailed historical depictions, like George Washington Carver inventing the cathode ray tube, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera playing badminton, and there was a really cool diorama he constructed from teeth he found under his pillow, of Malcolm X watching Season 2 of What We Do in the Shadows.

I took my husband Carlos with me. We left Esteban with my niece for the morning because she just finished her semester and had some free time to entertain her little cousin. Carlos and I were anxious to get away even if only for a couple of hours to visit another adult. More on our adventure with Larry in a moment. But first, I wanted to update you all on Khoshekh.

###

Lots of you have written in to ask if my cat, Khoshekh, is feeling any better. I don’t remember mentioning that he was sick, but apparently last month, people heard nearly 30 minute long broadcasts on this very radio station of a cat screeching and hissing. Not sure how that happened. Sorry about that, listeners.

But yes, Khoshekh was extremely sick, with an abscessed tooth which got terribly infected. His eyes had nearly swollen shut and I had to call in a vet to save him. Dr. Joe Hinson, one of the most highly-recommended vets in town, came to the rescue. Dr. Hinson gave Khoshekh a couple of shots and prescribed some pills which I have to hide in Khoshekh’s wet food.

I honestly didn’t think Khoshekh was going to make it. He’s getting pretty old, and he had taken to trying to claw and bite me. But once Dr. Hinson worked his magic, Khoshekh healed right up. He’s feeling so much better. Just purring and meowing all the time, every time I go visit him in fact, almost like he’s trying to tell me a story. It’s so cute. He’s like a little radio show host. He’s taking after his human dad. Awww.

Unfortunately for Dr. Hinson, though, Khoshekh scratched him pretty badly. He thought he would just need some antibiotic ointment for his wound. But he also lost about a liter of blood, and the infection spread so rapidly that he had to have his feet amputated. After that his skin began to bubble and discolor, like a simmering beef chili, until the pain and terror grew so great in him that Dr. Hinson retired to spend more time dissolving into a smoking pulp. He will be missed. To the family and friends of Dr. Joe Hinson, he was a good vet but not super great with cats.

Anyway, Khoshekh’s doing great. Thanks for all your emails.

###

Okay, back to our morning with Larry Leroy. When I reached out to Larry the other day, I asked if he’d like to have coffee one morning, something simple like that. There’s a great new coffee shop in the Barista District called Katana where they grind the beans by throwing them in the air and slicing them with swords. It’s supposed to really maximize the flavor profile. But Larry suggested we come out his way. He’d make us breakfast, show us his new house, and then take us to an art exhibit.

I didn’t even know we had an art museum in Night Vale. Larry said we don’t but there’s apparently a super secret gallery showing out in The Whispering Forest. It’s rumored that there are original works by Ludwig Dettman, Jim Dine, Augusta Savage, and Louise Bourgeois (boo-ZHWAH). I had never heard of any of those people, but I definitely nodded my head like I did. Larry didn’t notice, though, because this entire conversation was over email.

I did tell him that going into the Whispering Forest sounded incredibly dangerous, because it’s enchanted. The trees whisper compliments to you until you eventually become a tree yourself. Larry agreed that the journey would be a treacherous one, but said that this is pretty standard for an art museum. MoMA has the 60-foot-high tightrope above a pit of razor wire at their entrance. The Tate Modern in London gives you a riddle that must be solved before you can get in. Those who fail the riddle are fed to pigs. Even LACMA requires visitors to have immunity to neurotoxic gases.

Plus, he said that Michelle Nguyen from Dark Owl Records has been out there several times, but it’s easy for her because she’s impervious to compliments.

I consulted Carlos first, of course, and he thought it was a great idea. I’m not sure he fully understood the risks. He was merely thrilled to have a brief moment not around an energetic toddler. So we agreed. More on that in a minute.

###

But first, let’s have a look at traffic. Listeners, the exciting news is our station just sprung for a helicopter. Cool, right? Now we’ll be able to bring you the most accurate traffic reports imaginable. And our eye-in-the-sky, our helicopter liaison, Yeji Lim (YEHH-zhee) will give you the lowdown on how traffic looks out there in Night Vale.

And according to our first ever helicopter traffic report, Lim says… all the roads look weird. It’s mind-blowing from this vantage point. Lim said that from high up in her traffic copter the streets look like veins. Not like strips of asphalt upon which move aluminum and steel vehicles, but motherblankin’ veins. It’s so weird, Lim said.

And like, the cars moving around, it’s like blood. So gross, Lim added. Yuck. What the hell am I seeing, she said. Our city looks like a living organism, but one that’s been cut open so you can see all of its blood pulsing through it. We cut this thing open and it’s still alive, Lim shrieked. It’s still alive, she repeated, her lower jaw quivering, her watery eyes bulging. What hath god wrought, Lim then said quietly, as if to no one, before flying higher and higher into the firmament, until her helicopter was just a tiny speck and a distant hum.

###

And now back to our adventure into the Whispering Forest. Carlos, Larry and I set out to the woods around 8 this morning. Carlos devised a brilliant plan to protect each other from the trees. Using basic science, Carlos realized that enchantments can be offset by more powerful enchantments. “You know the saying ‘fight fire with fire,’” Carlos asked us. Of course Larry and I had heard it before, but we had never stopped to ask what it meant or even tried to understand through context clues. It was just a string of words to us.

“Well,” Carlos continued, “it comes from the scientific principle that the only way to stop a fire is to use a larger fire to put it out. Enchantments, even powerful ones that use flattery, work the same way.” We were in awe of how vast Carlos’s scientific knowledge was. We both felt super safe.

As we entered the forest, the compliments came hard and fast from the trees. “Oh wow, you have perfect skin!” and “Your hair is so shiny and voluminous.” I could see Larry slowing down, almost breaking under the incredible kindness of the woods. But Carlos countered them by saying “Larry, you have the coolest shoes” and “I’ve never met a more talented artist than you” and “That’s a manly stride you have there Larry. Very confident.”

Carlos’s strategy worked. How was he able to do this, I asked him. And Carlos said the secret to a great compliment is to focus on the subjects choices, not their bodies. We can choose fashion, careers, aesthetics, vibes, all that, much more easily than what our bodies look like. It feels good when someone notices what you have made for yourself.

We reached the center of the woods in what felt like only 15 or 20 minutes. Though we would learn soon enough that this was a lie.

At a clearing in the trees we found it. We found the art. Hanging from vines, leaning against rocks and shrubs were some of the finest paintings I have ever seen. The brushwork, extravagant. The colors, divine. I know nothing about art, and even I could understand these were all masterpieces. From mid-20th Century post-modern abstracts, to the rough and realistic Renaissance mythologies, to the deconstructed still lifes of 19th Century impressionism.

We were so taken by the beauty of the exhibit that we did not at first notice the figure in the dead center of the glade. Wearing a black cloak, a small crown with two horns, and a nametag that said “Hello My Name Is” and then the words “MINO (she/her)” [pronounced MY-noh] scrawled in black sharpie below. I had to presume this to be the proprietor of the gallery, and that their name was Mino.

Our eyes all met Mino’s at once, and Mino said, “You should not have come.”

Looking up, we all became aware that day was gone. Or at least the sun was. The sky was black, though it couldn’t have been yet nine in the morning.

“You’ll never find your way out,” Mino said.

“Them woods are a maze,” Larry muttered.

“I usually say labyrinth,” Mino said. “But yes. That.”

Time out. Sorry. I gotta pee. Like really bad. Let’s go to the weather.

# Weather: “Dream” by Nata https://soundcloud.com/natadov #

So. I was just in the bathroom here at work where Khoshekh is always, and I mean always, hovering at exactly four feet off the ground in exactly the same place. Every day. For the last 9 years since I first found him. His kittens were all there, but they only glared at me, not saying anything. Probably because they’re cats. But also probably because they’re jerks. That Venn Diagram is almost a perfect circle.

I’m a bit alarmed but I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a cat. He’ll come back. I hope.

###

Anyway, we’re in the clearing in the middle of the dark woods in what should have been mid-morning. We’re told that the woods are a maze. Carlos, like the prepared scientist he is, pulls a compass from his shoulder compass holster which was hidden beneath his black leather lab coat. (And for those of you wondering, yes, Carlos is licensed to carry a concealed compass.) But when we looked down at it, the needle just spun wildly. I pulled out my phone, but the GPS could not locate us.

We turned to Mino and begged to be released from the labyrinth. We promised to tell no one about the artwork. “Maybe you stole this art. We won’t tell,” I stammered. “I mean I’m not saying you stole it. I bet you own it outright. Legally. On the up and up. I didn’t mean to suggest that… Shut up, Cecil. Sorry. I said that out loud.”

I was a nervous wreck. Carlos pleaded that we had a son at home who would miss his fathers terribly. And we were two fathers who would miss our son terribly. Plus, Carlos added, we told the babysitter where we were going. And she’s a very responsible young woman who would immediately call the police if we weren’t back by a certain time. And the police would come looking for us, probably, at some point, if they felt like it.

Mino laughed, then pointed to two large spruce trees which were wearing blue FBI jackets. “The authorities have been looking for me for years,” Mino said. “A couple of them even found me, but they couldn’t resist the curse of these woods.”

“Gentlemen,” Mino continued. “I am not keeping you here. I myself am kept here. I enchanted this forest years ago, but the spell has grown more powerful than its speaker. Even I am trapped in this labyrinth of my own making.”

Mino then made a fist and shook it to the heavens, which I thought was funny, but Carlos thought was a little hackneyed.

Larry took out his sketchbook. He’d been doodling in it all morning. He used it during our walk into the Whispering Forest to help distract himself from the generous praise of the trees. Mino said it was no use. The forest cannot be filmed or recorded or even drawn. Larry slumped upon seeing his sketchbook pages completely empty. Over my shoulder I heard one of the trees chattering, trying to enchant us. It was too far away to have any effect. But I realized: I recognized that tree.

It was the one that had commented on my beautiful, resonant voice. I clearly remember it telling me that. We definitely passed that one, I said. Close your ears and follow me!, I called, as I headed toward the familiar path out. Carlos, Larry, and Mino followed close behind, their palms clapped to the sides of their heads.

Shortly after that I saw another tree I knew. It was the one that had said it enjoyed my community calendars. I enjoy them too, tree. Further along the path, to the left, there was the tree that said it found me a trustworthy voice of local journalism. How true, how true. In appreciation, I autographed the tree’s trunk with my pocket knife. Always love to meet a fan.

I pulled the others along the twisting path until we finally returned to the entrance of the Whispering Forest. The sun was shining once again. The four of us stood on the edge of the woods panting and smiling. Carlos had to go pick up Esteban from Janice’s dorm. I needed to get to work. Larry wanted to go try out his new dark room. And Mino?

Though finally freed from their own prison, Mino had no home in Night Vale. She wasn’t from here. Larry offered Mino room on his couch but she declined. “I will find my way,” she said. “I have an old friend here in town I would like to see.”

Mino turned and walked alone across the dusty hills toward town.

Before we left, Carlos asked me: “Larry and Mino and I had to plug our ears as we escaped the labyrinth. How were you able to take in all those compliments, sweetie, and still not turn into a tree?”

I said, I’m excellent at what I do. It’s not a compliment if it’s the truth, babe.

Carlos just said “Huh.”

I said I love you. See you tonight.

And I will. But first I need to print out some missing cat posters. It’s not like Khoshekh to disappear like that.

Stay tuned next for the gravity of the moon.

And as always, good night, Night Vale. Good night.

###

Proverb: Ask your doctor about *their* health. It's always you, you, you. Conversation is a two-way street.