Hi all, it is Jeffrey Craner and I'm here to let you know that Welcome to Night Vale is coming to Europe. Just for a little bit, May 27th through the 30th, 2026, we will be in Edinburgh, Manchester, London and Amsterdam in that order. So if you live over there, get your tickets. They are on sale now. We're so excited to bring this newest live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest to Europe, to the UK. It's so much fun to get back there and to keep doing this show because it is such a fun show to do and to see. So Europe, we will see you at the end of May. Tickets are available at WelcomeToNightVale.com slash live. Oh, and if you like other Welcome to Night Vale things beyond just the podcast and live show, we also have the Night Vale tabletop role-playing game. It's available in stores wherever you get your games. This RPG was created by Renegade Games with collaboration with me and Joseph and Brie, the writers of Night Vale. It's quirky, it's spooky, it's fun. You know, just like this show. So if you ever wanted to be a character in Night Vale and do freaky adventures there, then get on this. You can get the Night Vale tabletop RPG wherever you get your games. Okay, let's get on to the episode and hey, thanks. When you want your family's staycation to feel like and your confirmed connecting rooms to feel like and your hotel bed to feel like. Oh, and room service to feel like. Choose Hilton because at Hilton hospitality feels like. Good morning. Enjoy your breakfast. It matters where you stay. Book now at Hilton.com. Hilton for the stay. Blood is thicker than water. Blood is redder than water. Blood is messier and stickier and gorier than water. There are a lot of differences, really. Welcome to Night Vale. Spring is almost here. It's hard to say exactly when. Usually we make predictions based on what the Groundhog sees in February. If he sees a wavering image of a cloaked woman with a cemetery floating on the horizon, then there are six more weeks of winter. If he sees a pigeon eating a pile of millet spread across the train tracks, spring is just around the corner. This year, unfortunately, the Groundhog did not make an appearance. After years of bachelorhood, it seems he's found a mate and they've been in a deep hibernation state together since September. So the seasonal forecast is anyone's guess. Could be tomorrow, could be months from now. But I've got a good feeling that the days of making sand angels and sand men out in the scrublands are coming to a close. And the days of sand tubing and sand surfing at Ash Beach are in our very near future. In anticipation of spring, I decided to take a little trip out to the Night Vale Botanic Gardens to see what's starting to bloom. It was a clear, cloudless day. I went alone. The sign out front said closed to the public, like always. But the gate was easily opened with a lockpick, which means come on in. Once I started down the path, I was surrounded by bees. I didn't see any bees, but the air was filled with a vibrating hum that sounded pretty pollen thirsty to me, if you know what I mean. I walked until I found myself in front of another gate that was marked with a skull and crossbones inside of a circle with a slash through it, which clearly means do not don't enter, which is a double negative, meaning enter. And then I was looking out on a field of six foot long pink blooms. Not blooms, exactly, but whatever happens before a bloom? Buds? They looked like large, fleshy cocoons writhing gently in the dirt. They'll be so beautiful when they blossom, I thought. Then I noticed one near me had already started to open, and so I... I went over for a closer look. And... I saw... Well. More on that after the headlines. In sports, the first minor league game of the season is kicking off on Monday night with the Night Vale spider wolves playing long time rivals the Desert Bluffs, whatever. Blood is thicker than water. Blood is redder than water. Blood is much more disturbing to see spilled across Mesa Avenue than water, especially when it's your own. Welcome to Night Vale! I'm your host, Leonard Burton. In my top story, I've been dead for a long time. I was hit by a cargo truck in front of the radio station over 40 years ago. I've come to terms with that now, it's fine. The important thing is that I'm back on the air once again as the host of Night Vale Community Radio. Well, some version of it anyway. I know these aren't actual radio waves that I'm broadcasting on. Any veteran broadcaster can tell the difference by the way their voice feels when it bounces off different frequencies of the atmosphere. It's definitely some other kind of wave. When I've never felt before. And I'll admit, I don't know how I got here or where I am exactly. But I was told I could have my old show back and that I could say whatever I wanted as long as I made sure to read a few specific pieces of copy word for word at regular intervals. More on that later. I am pure consciousness now. I have seen infinity. More on that later. First, the television listings. On the Muppet show, guest star Lee Marvin joins the Muppets in their own version of the classic Cron Guignol play, Le Laboitard des Alloussénations, in which a doctor performed zombie inducing brain surgery on his wife's lover, starring Bunsen Honeydew as the doctor, Rizzo the Rat as the adulterer, and Canilla Chicken as the wife. On Nightline, President John F. Kennedy publicly addresses the scandals marring his fifth term in the White House. On Wild Kingdom, the Columbia River Salmon faces many obstacles on its journey to spawn, including increased gas prices, the rising cost of living, and a plummeting stock market. And on the Wednesday Night movie, Jack Lemon accidentally joins a doomsday cult and becomes comically entangled. Now back to our top story. I am dead. What I've realized is, the part of me that was briefly alive is now dead, but the part of me that never existed still doesn't exist, and is the same as it's always been. Basically, everything is back to status quo for me, your host Leonard Burton. Or it was until I got my job back. Well, the lines have blurred once again. I remember the feeling of being awoken from a deep sleep. I remember seeing a circular insignia that looked like a labyrinth. I remember being surrounded by the color pink. A vaguely familiar man, a man who was not short, handed me a microphone and a set of words on a piece of paper. The man and the microphone and the paper were not physical objects, of course, but the ideas of them. I remember saying the word no, but having it chain shape in the air and become the words yes, of course. I am a broadcaster. It is who I am and what I will always be for eternity. Now, the headlines! Now, back to my trip to the Botanic Gardens. I leaned in for a closer look at the opening flower tendril peeking out from its six foot long pink pulsating sack. And inside the cocoon, I saw a face. It was the face of a man whose eyes were closed, whose skin was shiny with translucent goo, and who was wearing a blue suit. And listeners, I knew that face and that suit. It was my old mentor, former Night Vale community radio host, Leonard Burton. That can't be, I thought to myself. Leonard has been dead for decades. I saw him get hit by a truck on Mesa Avenue. I saw it speeding around the corner and I saw the labyrinth insignia on its driver's side door and I saw it strike his body with incredible force. And okay, maybe I still haven't fully processed that experience. Sure, maybe it still feels like a moment of detached reality that happened to someone else and I literally never, ever think about it to the point that I barely remember it even happened. But I also know that I did see it and I know that Leonard is dead and buried out at Rattlesnake Rest Cemetery. And then I thought, wait, is he buried at Rattlesnake Rest Cemetery? Come to think of it, I don't remember there ever being a funeral for him or a memorial of any kind. Or an obituary even. And I've never seen a headstone for him, even though I take all my lunch breaks at the cemetery and know all the tombs pretty darn well by now. Where did Leonard's body end up? And as I was thinking about all of this and staring at what appeared to be the face of my dead mentor inside a sticky pink bloom, a man who was not short emerged from the path behind me. Let's talk, he said. More on that after the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. Death is one of life's biggest mysteries. What happens when we die? Is dying scary? Does life have meaning? I know the answers to all of those questions now, of course. Spoiler, death isn't profound. It's anticlimactic and a bummer at best. For example, the last thing I saw was my own teeth scattered across the paper. And the last thing I felt was ashamed that I had been such a bad custodian of my own teeth. And that I hadn't held on to them better. And then I saw a ring-tailed cat on the side of the road lapping up a pool of my blood, which may or may not have been a hallucination, but probably was. And then I died. And that was it. It was a disappointment, to be honest. Birth is where the real drama is, but no one cares about that because everyone's done it already and no one remembers it. We come screaming into the world with nearly infinite alternate realities opening up in front of us at light speed. And we go out mumbling and hallucinating animals until we fall into a dreamless sleep. But if you do still want those original answers, they are in order. They are, in order, not much, kinder and kinder. This has been the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. And having said all that, this has been the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. Wow! Who knew the burrowing owl had such complicated religious rituals? Now, back to my experience at the Botanic Gardens. A man, who was not short, stepped out from the bushes and placed a hand on my shoulder. It felt like ice. Maybe we should sit down, he said. We sat together on a stone bench overlooking the field. What kinds of flowers are these? I asked him. Geraniums, he said, looking me in the eyes. I think I recognized that one. I said, nodding toward the bloom containing the well-preserved corpse of my dead mentor. Of course, the man said, also nodding, Geraniums are common flowers. They will seem familiar to you. I looked again and saw that the flower had blossomed while we'd been talking. There were endless clusters of bright pink petals with red streaks, clinging to vines of vibrant green. Ah, I see now that it is a geranium, I said. Yes, the man agreed. Very common. Let me show you the way out. Listeners, even though it had only been an ordinary geranium and I clearly did not see the corpse of Leonard Burton inside a fleshy pink cocoon, it got me thinking, why don't we ever talk about him? Why did we all seem to forget about him the moment he died? To me, he's one of the most influential citizens who's ever lived in Night Vale. And so, I've come to an important decision. More on that after a word from our sponsors. You are walking down a long hallway. The carpeting is dark and musty. The pattern on the wallpaper moves as if it's alive. You continue to walk. White horse, sharp needle, slow dance, new book, blue boy, quiet evening, fast bird, sweet taste. I don't know what any of that means. After seeing a bunch of creepy stuff, you enter an empty cavernous room with a dining table set for 12. You sit down. No one else has arrived. I was told to read these sets of words at certain times. I hope whoever needs to hear them hears them. I hope they understand what it's supposed to mean. I hope it isn't anything questionable, but I will regret being involved in. But I really do like having my show back. Oh, I missed a few on account of being... You wonder not without dread who else is coming. In a crystal glass in front of you, a beverage. It's bubbly and pale yellow in color. As if compelled by another force, your hand reaches out for it and brings it to your lips. It's more than seltzer. Proudly made with only real, squeezed fruit. Never from concentrate. Bold, authentic, spin drift. This has been a word from our sponsors. I'm dying to tell you about my decision regarding the memory of Leonard Burton. But first... Screaming voices. Ancient languages. Venomous animals. Dark skies. Red rivers. New gods. Bad weather. The weather. The sun comes around. Even if you don't. But I'll wait on your call. Even if you won't. On your dark and dark table. Taking your first scraps. Calling the four boys. Don't you want me back? On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On the body buried. In your backyard still alive. The ghost in your closet. Flickering the lights. I'm your garden in the winter. But I'm too young to die. The sun comes around. Even if you don't. But I'll wait on your call. Even if you won't. On your dark and dark table. Taking your first scraps. Calling the four boys. Don't you want me back? On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On the body buried. On the ghost in your closet. But I'm too young to die. The sun comes around. On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On your sheets in the summer. On your sheets in the summer. On your sheets in the summer. On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. On your sheets in the summer. Love taking out to dry. It was a little bit of a struggle at school. It was a little bit of a struggle at school. It was a little bit of a struggle at school. It showed me that I was capable of things. That I could even be good at things. It made me believe in myself. It made me believe in myself. It made me believe in myself. It made me believe in myself. It was a little bit of a struggle at school. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It was a little bit of a struggle at school. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. It showed me that I was capable of things. And it will be available for all you thirsty joggers and passersby just in time for spring. It should be spring then, right? Still waiting for that groundhog to let us know, but really don't want to interrupt whatever he's got going on down there. Up next, stay tuned for... That's it for me today. On a personal note, I just want to say that I'm happy to be back on the air. Whatever type of air this is, and whatever audience is hearing it, and whatever it means. Until next time, see ya, Night Vale! Good night, Night Vale. Good night. Night Vale presents Night Vale presents Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Craner, and Brie Williams, and produced by Disparition. The voice of Leonard Burton was James Urbaniac. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Disparition. All that can be found at Disparition.Bancamp.com. This episode's weather was Sheila by Worry Stone. Find out more at the link in our show notes. Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com, or follow us on Blue Sky at Night Vale Radio, or on Instagram, Tumblr, and TikTok at Night Vale Official. Or say cheese. I wasn't taking your photo, but maybe someone else was. But mainly, check out WelcomeToNightVale.com, where we have a twice monthly mailing list that is the best way to keep up to date directly from us to you. We love you and care about you, and we just want to hear from you sometimes. Today's proverb. A bird in the hand is worth who cares. Put that bird down. Have you not heard about the bird flu? Hi, we're Meg Bashmaner. And Joseph Fink. Of WelcomeToNightVale, 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 she's seen the stars of the show and the stars of the show. And we're watching the best and worst episodes of the show. The best and worst episodes of Star Trek, where Beverly Crusher has sex with a ghost. The episode of the X-Files, where Scully gets attacked by a vicious house cat. 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.
