The messages from the pyramid were written by special contributor Regis Lacher (@regisl)

Weird at last. Weird at last. God almighty, weird at last. Welcome to Night Vale.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police are asking the public’s help in catching a dangerous fugitive on the loose in the greater Night Vale area. They say he is armed, and should be approached with extreme caution. For everyone’s protection, they are keeping the name and description of the fugitive secret, but indicate that all strangers should be mistrusted and avoided, as well as friends and loved ones because how well do you know those people anyway? Are you aware of their location every second of every day? Who among us does not have secrets? The fugitive is wanted dead or alive, and vigilante justice is, as always, highly encouraged.

Our top story today: a large pyramid has appeared in the center of the Beatrix Lohman Memorial Meditation Zone, destroying over half of the Zone’s state-of-the-art meditation equipment and paraphernalia. Experts have been contacted as to what could cause sudden pyramid existence, however, as it turns out, there are no experts in pyramid materialization, and the town’s other experts offered up merely shrugs , followed by panicked conjectures, and, finally, screams and moans, all of which fell uselessly upon the City Council’s merciless ears.

The pyramid has been described as a kind of triangle shape, only three dimensional. It has made no movement despite repeated taserings by the Sheriff’s Secret Police.

Many suspect that this may be a publicity stunt pulled by our own local cereal company Flakey O’s, who are launching their new line of nighttime-only cereals next month. An angry mob has formed outside of the cereal factory just in case.

Telly. You remember, the deceitful barber with a shriveled soul who, just a few weeks ago cut perfect scientist Carlos’s perfect beautiful hair very short, so very, very short, thus depriving our community of our only remaining pleasure. Well, Telly was seen recently wandering the sand wastes, howling at the sky, and holding up Carlos’s shorn locks, as though begging God to reverse the crime he has done. Reports indicate that his skin was blistering, that his eyes were bleary, and that he was recently seen trying to give a cactus a haircut, whispering and cooing into what he seemed to think was its ear. Listeners, I am not one to stand aside harshly and say that a man deserves the punishment that comes to him, but I also am not sorry to see Telly in this state, given his crime. In any case, if your cactus is in need of a haircut, try Telly, out wandering the sand wastes.

Ladies and gentlemen, I must say that I am not a cat person, but I have really grown to love Khoshekh, the stray cat that has made his home here at the radio station. I discovered Khoshekh several weeks ago hovering in a fixed location in the men's bathroom, and he's remained there since. The men at the station, of course, have taken to keeping the sink at a light trickle so he can get water, and we even take turns buying Science Diet Low Calorie Cat Food (turns out little Khoshekh is getting a bit chubby since he can't actually exercise in his unmovable, levitating state.)

And thanks to our new intern, Brad, we've finally solved the litter problem. Brad is very excellent at both carpentry and dark magic, so he rigged us up a fine looking litter box that our floating feline friend can reach. Oh he's just adorable, that cat. As a lifelong dog-lover, I've really turned the corner. Khoshekh is wonderful. I know several others here at the station that feel the same way. After meeting Khoshekh, McKayla, who works in sales, put her 3-year-old Weimeraner to sleep and then adopted 6 tabby kittens. She's that much of a convert! Make sure to take some cute videos, McKayla!

And for others of you interested in getting a new cat, the Night Vale SPCA strongly recommends that you have your cat spayed or neutered, bring them in for their shots, and, once the cat reaches 18 months, begin using the little beast to harvest human organs for those "just in case" moments. The SPCA has several one-sheets on preventing heart worms and using pets to grow small "replacement" organs.

To get your copy, go online or simply make up your own informative facts!

An update on the pyramid reported on earlier. Word is in that the pyramid has spoken. It is broadcasting on low wave frequencies a repeated message. The message is the following.

I WILL PLACE WITHIN SOME OF YOU QUESTIONS. WITHIN OTHERS, I WILL PLACE ANSWERS.

THESE QUESTIONS AND THESE ANSWERS WILL NOT ALWAYS ALIGN. THE QUESTIONS I PROVIDE MAY HAVE NO ANSWERS, AND THE ANSWERS I PROVIDE MAY HAVE NO QUESTIONS.

I WILL STUDY THE EFFECTS OF THESE QUESTIONS AND THESE ANSWERS.

SOME OF YOU WILL HURT OTHERS AND OTHERS WILL HEAL.

GROW MY SEEDS INSIDE YOU, AND LET THEM FLOWER.

The Flakey O’s marketing department must be complimented for the best use of viral marketing in Night Vale since Stan’s Pawn Shop released a virulent strain of ebola back in ’98, and, as a communicator by trade, I applaud their ingenuity.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police has responded with surface-to-surface missiles, which they say will “silence the dark heart of the beast”. So far, they have not so much as created a smudge on the pyramid’s broad, shiny surface.

Home handy-men. Fix-it vixens. Ladies and gentlemen who love to get their hands dirty. Let’s talk about home repair. Certain jobs are fine for the amateur, and certain others should be left to the professionals. Leaky sinks, sticky windows, minor exorcisms, and bleeding doors…all these are the kind of quick fixes that a toolbox and a quick search on the internet should allow you to take care of. On the other hand, structural damage, major remodeling, seeping darkness, major exorcisms, roof boils, and lawn care…these are all the kind of work that should not be attempted by anyone without years of expertise and a valid Hammer License from the City Council. Finding the right professional for the job is easy. Just look in the yellow pages, or head down to the squatter shacks by the edge of the sand wastes and ask around among the homeless.

And now a public service announcement from the Night Vale Medical Community.

Being in the desert, we get a lot of sun, and doctors are encouraging Night Vale Citizens to do regular skin checks. You may think that freckle or mole is harmless, but you never know when it will grow into something much worse.

Surgeons at Night Vale General Hospital are noting an uptick in dermatological growths related to sun exposure. Doctors describe these growths as 15" spiralled horns. The horns mostly protrude from the lower back or knees. Unchecked, these horns can develop a glistening shine, small leather saddles, and bright red lips on the very tip.

So check your skin at least once a week in the mirror. Dermatologists recommend a three-step process:

1. Search meticulously for 15" horns protruding from your body. Don't overlook anything.
2. If you find any suspicious growths, mark them with a chalk pentagon.
3. Gently remove the affected skin area with a sterilized razor blade (or similarly clean crafting blade). If you are not one of the 53% of our community that was born without pain-sensing nerves, you should first consult your primary care electrolysist for tips on how to numb yourself to the nigh unbearable pain of existence.

The Department of Public Safety announced that all street signs in Night Vale will be replaced with traffic cops wielding Semaphore flags. Drivers will be required to learn this physically expressive maritime alphabet.

This decision is not without its controversy, as the existing street signs are entirely in Braille. One critic, Paul Birmingham, says removing these signs will deflate the earth. As a member of the Airfilled Earth Society, Paul believes the earth is a precariously inflated orb that could pop or sag at any moment. "We've got to stop teaching all this religious propaganda in our schools and start teaching real science," Paul shouted from his leanto behind the Library.

I have to admit, listeners, he makes a valid point.

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Update on the pyramid situation. Flakey O’s board of directors are vigorously denying, some of them at gun point, that they have any part in the pyramid that is stubbornly continuing to exist in our town.

They are sneaky ones. I hope the new line of cereal turns out to be worth the hype.

Meanwhile the pyramid itself has altered its broadcast, sending out a second message, which is as follows:

EVERYTHING YOU DO MATTERS EXCEPT YOUR LIFE. DEATH WILL BE THE LAST ACTION YOU UNDERTAKE.

I DO NOT LIVE BUT I EXIST. WHAT IS MY PURPOSE? I WILL NOT TELL YOU.

ONE DAY, YOU WILL DISCOVER YOUR PURPOSE, AND THEN YOU WILL TELL NO ONE.

AND THEN YOU WILL DIE.

I’m not too good at this viral marketing thing, so I can’t see all the codes and hidden web addresses that I’m sure are all through that message. I’ll leave that to all the dedicated amateurs out in the listening world.

Sheriff’s Secret Police are now attempting to charge the pyramid with resisting arrest, on the grounds that they couldn’t figure out how to arrest it. More as the story develops. In the meantime, let’s go to the weather.

[WEATHER: "Last Song" by Jason Webley. jasonwebley.com]

Well, listeners, it seems the pyramid has disappeared as mysteriously and suddenly as it arrived. Too late, I’m afraid, for the Flakey O’s board of directors, who have all been taken to the abandoned mineshaft outside of town for processing by the City Council.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police are declaring victory in their stand-off against the pyramid, because, they say, it’s about time they won something.

Meanwhile, the pyramid has left behind a much tinier pyramid, a mere souvenir of its looming, inscrutable mass. This tiny pyramid is broadcasting one final message, a farewell from the geometric shape that stole our hearts. So, let us wrap up our show today with its words:

SOMEWHERE THERE IS A MAP. AND ON THAT MAP IS EARTH. AND ATTACHED TO EARTH IS AN ARROW THAT SAYS YOUR NAME AND LISTS YOUR LIFESPAN.

SOME OF YOU DIE STANDING, OTHERS SITTING. MANY OF YOU DIE IN CARS.

I CAN NEVER DIE. IT IS DIFFICULT FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT THAT I AM ATTEMPTING TO CONVEY.

I CANNOT SHOW YOU THIS VISION BUT YOU MAY IMAGINE IT. STEP FORWARD AND TELL SOMEONE OF IT, PLEASE.

You heard it here, folks. Tell people. Tell people about Flakey O’s new line of cereals for nighttime only. Do it in memory of its board of directors.

Stay tuned now for an hour of dead air with the occasional hiss and crackle.
Speaking of the nighttime, I truly hope you have a good one, Night Vale. Goodnight.