It used to take two to tango, but these days it takes fifteen, on account of the economy. Welcome to Night Vale.

I hate to start out with bad news. So I won’t. I have really bad news. But I think we should keep things positive around here. Instead, let’s focus on some good news.

John Peters, you know, the farmer? He says that he has grown the biggest ear of imaginary corn in history. He said that the previous record was one foot, three inches, imagined by a farmer down in Argentina. But that just this week, he imagined an ear of corn that was one foot, six inches. Wow! Impressive work John. Meanwhile the Night Vale Boy Scouts have announced a Jacket Drive for the Needy. If someone is in need, they better cough up a jacket to the boy scouts or else. The Boy Scouts then pounded their fists in their hands for emphasis. Cute! And finally, there will be a complete solar eclipse tomorrow! From the point of view of one of Saturn’s moons so not super local to us, but still great news.

I guess I should get to the bad news now. The bad news is that something has emerged from the portal to the desert otherworld. Kevin from Desert Bluffs was last seen entering that portal after a bloody fight with his younger self, a boy who currently lives under the care of Tamika Flynn. On that day when they faced each other, the older Kevin swore he would return, which has not yet happened. But he also said something about not returning alone, and it would appear that he has made good on that. The entity that has stepped through the portal is….I guess woman might be the word? She is at least seven feet tall, shrouded in red and gold. Her eyes are long. I know that doesn’t quite make sense, but they’re just long, that’s what they are. Her cheeks are sharp and sunken. She has a broad smile but I think that might be carved into her face. She is slightly familiar, but I cannot say for sure that I…. that I….

[radio interference]

[important note. The below should be recorded with the FIRST word in each “word/word” pair, but set apart and clearly said. Then the second words should be clearly recorded at about the same pace after. In edit, what it should sound like is the two words being said simultaneously, with the first coming in our left ear and the second in our right]

LAUREN: Hello citizens of Night Vale. This is Mother Lauren, commandeering your airwaves for important reasons. Ah, it is so great to be back in the rarefied air of Night Vale. It makes me feel positively giddy/enraged. But I am able to set aside my emotions. I am a professional, and I am here to do a job. And that job is outreach/slaughter. Please remain calm. I mean you no harm.

I might do you harm, incidentally, in the course of things, but that’s not my fault really. That’s the system’s fault, and I can’t be held responsible for anything that happened before I got here. Or anything that will happen after I leave. Or anything that happens while I’m here. Basically don’t complain to me. Take it up with your government/impotent god. Certainly I can’t be bothered with all of your petty complaints/screaming. We will be out of your hair soon. And then all will go back to being our new normal/gore strewn.

[radio interference, right into]

CECIL: Hey Night Vale, let’s talk tv.

Everyone has been getting into this new craze, and it’s called watching tv. From Pawn Stars to Dancing With The Stars to Dancing With The Pawn Stars, if you have an interest, there is probably a tv show out there for you.

Want to get in on the trend? It’s easy. All you have to do is head on down to Big Lucy’s Appliance Cavern and ask Big Lucy herself about a television. She will beckon you down a dark and narrow hole. Don’t worry, that’s the tv hole, and it’s where she keeps her tvs. And a good amount of centipedes, but they’re friendly. As the centipedes jokingly nibble on your earlobes, you can choose the tv that best fits your lifestyle, and Big Lucy will help you carry it home. She isn’t called Big Lucy for nothing. She’s called that because she’s big.

Once you have your tv home, simply plug it in and relax. Oh, and turn it on. It won’t do anything unless you turn it on. Believe me. I spent years staring at my television waiting for it to do anything before I learned about the power button.

And then watch whatever you want. The Best of Pawn Stars. Cajun Pawn Stars. Pawn Stars UK. The possibilities are limitless.

Television: It’s what’s on tv.

What was I talking about? I feel like there was something important I was saying, but then it got away from me. Oh well, couldn’t have been that important I guess.

And now for a word from our sponsors.

Today’s sponsor is eggs. What are those freaky little things? Spheroids of goop? And you use them to make both bread and omelets? Sounds fake.

Now, I bet you didn’t know this, but I learned today that you can open eggs. Yeah, I was astonished too. But if you bang the little suckers against a counter or the bumper of a Honda Fit or whatever you have handy, they pop right open, and it is so squishy in there. Just clear squishy and yellow squishy, and it all glushes around in an upsetting way. Ugh.

So, eggs, I guess. Fine. Eggs. If you have to. If you’re a pervert, there’s always eggs. Good luck out there.

This message has been brought to you by eggs.

Wait, what am I doing? Here I am, doing some sort of weirdly written ad about eggs while our town is under attack. I don’t know what’s come over me. The entity, I guess woman might be the word?, is walking down the center of main street, her spindly arms stretched out on either side. She is at least ten feet tall, shrouded in black and green. Her ears are multitude and not where you’d expect them to be. Under the gory carved smile there is a frown, tattooed on her face. She is slightly familiar, but I cannot say for sure.

Her arms are long enough that, as she reaches them out, they brush the foreheads of pedestrians on both sides of the street. Whenever someone is touched, their eyes roll back to the whites, their mouths open wide, and they start to sing. Witnesses have confirmed that the song is Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus with the one change that the words “wrecking ball” have been replaced by “Mother Lauren.” Every building she touches turns black and white, like one of those movies that only snobs and old people watch. Every tree that she touches begins to cry, which is not a thing I knew that trees could do.

Listeners, Night Vale is under attack, and I don’t know how to defend ourselves. The last time that Desert Bluffs and their terrible Smiling God came for us, they did so with overt violence. But this time, they come to us with some sort of terrible power that changes the essence of our being. How does one fight when one cannot be confident that your thoughts are your own? Perhaps we should check with Mother Lauren. Surely she knows what to do here. No! No! Cleary I have been influenced. I am sorry listeners. I cannot be trusted. I am part of her plan too.

[radio interference]

LAUREN: Hello Night Vale, Mother Lauren again. Sorry for speaking directly, but I don’t feel that Cecil was communicating/worshipping quite clearly enough. So here I am, your new host/master ready to tell you what is what with the what. Please everyone gather in the Blood Pit of the Smiling God, formerly known as Grove Park, where you can be properly tended to/harvested. This may take awhile, and we apologize for the wait. Please simply kneel in the dead grass and knit your fingers above your head. You may hear the sounds of hawks/crows but those are only bloodfeasters/crows come to see what all the ruckus is about. Please do not look up. Crows do not react well to eye contact. Thank you and have a day.

[radio interference, right into]

CECIL: Uh, ok, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I seem to be in front of the microphone so let’s tackle that age old question: is a hot dog a pizza? Now many of us don’t think of a hot dog as a pizza, because we’re so used to thinking of it as its own category. But strip the cultural baggage of a hot dog away. Take away all the usual standard toppings, like relish, mustard, ketchup, non-fat Greek yogurt, and what’s left? A sausage on a bun. Does that description remind you of anything? That’s right. That’s also the basic definition of a pizza.

So the next time some so and so tries to corner you into a semantic debate as to whether a hot dog is a pizza, you look them right in the eye and say “that foolish game is settled. Now stop being a coward and let us discuss real matters, like whether a cauliflower is a taco.”

And now for our community calendar.

On Monday, there will be tryouts for the Night Vale Screaming League. If you think you have what it takes to wail, keen, yowl and otherwise holler it up, then come on down to the rec center where Mother Lauren awaits you.

On Tuesday, the Moonlite All-Nite diner has a burger challenge. If you can eat their Giant Mucho Gusto Burger-arama in any amount of time at all, then they will give you the keys to the restaurant. Seriously, take all the time you want. They’ll keep it in the fridge between eating sessions, and they believe you can do it. They just really want to be done with the place, and this seems like the fastest way to do it. For fairness, the challenge will be judged by beloved local celebrity, Mother Lauren.

Wednesday is Free Play day at the Desert Flower Arcade Fun Complex. Come on down and join the celebration with a Cruisin’ USA tournament, or a friendly Air Hockey match, or indulge in a little nostalgia with Mother Lauren.

This Thursday, is Mother Lauren.

On Friday, Mother Lauren.

Saturday and Sunday is Mooooother Laurreeeen

Oh no, it happened again, didn’t it? I was sitting in front of my microphone just doing my show and something else took my voice. In the past, I have been forced out of my radio booth by Strexcorp. I have been mind controlled by the Glow Cloud, RIP, but never have I had my voice for the community stripped like this and turned to evil ends. I don’t know what to do about this, listeners. My instinct is to protect you, but I don’t know how to do that when every word I say is suspect. Your resolutely reliable narrator has become suddenly unreliable.

Whatever you do, do not go to Grove Park. It sounds like some real bad stuff is happening there, and we should just avoid that. Ok, yes, I see many of you are already running and screaming away from the area. That’s good. Good thinking everyone. The entity, I guess woman might be the word?, is pursuing those who are fleeing. She is at least fifteen feet tall, shrouded in purple and white. Her hair swirls around like a collapsing galaxy. She has a broad smile but a furious heart. She is slightly familiar, but I cannot say for sure.

As she chases after the innocent civilians of Night Vale, she is neither running, nor walking, but gliding. Her impossibly tall form is moving down the street at the speed of a car going a moderate speed, maybe 40 miles per hour, which is really fast for a person. Her mouth is moving, and as her mouth moves I feel my own mouth moving and…oh no. I will resist, I will resist. I will Mother. I will Mother Lauren. Mother Lauren.

[radio interference, right into]

[note. Even though the word pairs are identical, they should be performed and edited the same way, so the effect is that a different reading of the same word is being said in each ear.]

LAUREN: Now you’ve done it. Now you’ve made me enraged/enraged. When I get this way there is only one thing that satiates, and that is the blood/blood of my enemies/enemies. So say your prayers. Cast beseeching hands toward the empty sky. Because the hands of Mother Lauren will soon be swishing about in your entrails/entrails but don’t worry. You’ll be awake for the whole thing. Because I do not eat and I do not drink and I do not sleep. I subsist on suffering/suffering. I delight in suffering/suffering. I am the all and the end and the being. I am the mother of cruelty. But first, let’s take a look at the weather/[blood-curdling scream]

[weather]

CECIL: Once, there was a nothing so complete that no one thought anything of it, because there was no one and no thoughts and nowhere to have thoughts within.

It was not darkness, because darkness is something. It was like our lives before we were born. An absence that only grows deep and troubling if you happen to think about it for any length of time.

Then there was light. And there was darkness. And free jazz. And oranges. A lot of things started to happen. It was all too much. Some people thought that maybe anything happening at all was a mistake, and they wanted to go back to the nothing. Of course, they weren’t around for the nothing, so they had no way of knowing if it was good or not.

But before something and before nothing, there was Mother Lauren. Mother Lauren watched as it all happened, all of it, the great raveling and unraveling, the happening and the stillness. She was there for it all.

Oh sure, she had once been Lauren Mallard, had lived a human life, born in the usual human way some 40 years ago. But once she was transformed into Mother Lauren, then Mother Lauren became eternal.

Mother Lauren eats centuries like apples, in quick voracious bites. Mother Lauren once held her breath for a thousand years, just to see what it would be like to be a stone. Mother Lauren has been to the sun and found it unimpressive.

[the bold words below should be performed by both Cecil and Lauren, and edited together. Because of that, Cecil, please give some space around the bold words. No need for a stereo split on these ones, but at first Lauren should be mixed pretty quiet and then by the end she should be mixed loud and Cecil quiet.]

Mother Lauren loves us, and wants what’s best for us. She cares for us deeply, and will be with us always.

Stay tuned next for Mother Lauren followed by Mother Lauren and two ad-free hours of Mother Lauren.

LAUREN: Good night, Night Vale. Goodnight!