Ahoi, ahoi, it is Jeffrey Kraner letting you know that welcome to Night Vale is coming to Europe. May of 2026, we will be in Edinburgh on May 27th, Manchester on May 28th. That's my birthday. London on May 29th and finally on May 30th, we are closing out our short little jaunt overseas in Amsterdam. This is our newest live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest and it is so wild and so much fun. You gotta come see it. Tickets are on sale now so Europe, go get your tickets. Come see us at the end of May. We'll see you there. Tickets are available at welcometonightvail.com slash live. Also if you like to gear up with Night Vale stuff, we have some brand new merch in our store. We just put out a t-shirt that says laughter is the only medicine. We have this really cool hot and cold tumbler designed by Jessica Hayworth with these really creepy moths on them and also you know why not? We just made a trophy and it's a trophy you can get for yourself. This says first place, hottest scientist. I don't know, you do you. We also have new bumper stickers. We have posters. We have t-shirts, spider rolls baseball cap, shorts that say creepy on the butt. You know the drill. We have tons and tons of stuff and we're always adding new things and taking away all things. So if you've seen our store once, you've only seen it that one time it's always changing. So check it out at welcometonightvail.com and just click on store. Okay now let me get you to your Night Vale episode and hey, thanks. Don't let your problems get you down. Hey, I said don't let them. Are you even listening to me? Welcome to Night Vale. Listeners, there has been a murder. Now obviously this is big news, but first let's look at some of today's top headlines. The Ralphs will be extending its hours in November so that we can all stock up for Turkey Day as every staff member at Ralphs is forced to call it. I hope the weather is good on Turkey Day. They'll mumble to you. Any big plans for Turkey Day? They'll groan, not meeting your eyes. And if you say thanksgiving to them, they are forced to correct you. I think you mean Turkey Day. They'll wail tears streaming down their cheeks. That's just the fun little way we like to refer to it. They'll croak with throats gone raw from screaming. Anyway, the Ralphs will be open to 11 in November so be sure to get in there. And shop for any day you want, Turkey or otherwise. Also, there have been booms and flashing lights from the old missile range, just before the vanishing point of the horizon. That desolate stretch where the government used to test weapons back in the fifties. The government says that this time, it's not them. Na'ah, the government said through a coded message in the television static that only very attuned people could receive. No way, they said. We would never do something like shoot missiles off near a town. Couldn't be us. Frankly insulting that you would even suggest it. The lights seen at the old missile range have been a cool green and a flickering yellow. The sounds have come as deep booms and hot little pops. Who knows what's happening there? Not my job to find out. I'm just a journalist. Okay, the important stuff out of the way. Let's get to the murder. The angel formerly known as Marcus Vansden was killed today in the private library of his estate. Marcus was once the richest man in town until he transformed into an angel, and then he became the richest angel in town. He used his fortune among other things to buy StrixCorp Sinternist's ink and also to fund some much needed repairs to the desert flower, bowling alley and arcade fun complex. The cause of death is not known, but the body was found surrounded by the following objects. A venomous snake did. A ceremonial dagger recovered 10 years ago from an archaeological site in Lufnarp. A length of rope tied into the knot known as the devil's handshake. He had a book of dirty limmerics with every fourthward circled and a handwritten note that said it is finished on the last page. The other angels expressed shock for two reasons. The first is that Marcus' library had been locked securely from the inside as it always was during what Marcus referred to as me time, in which he sat in a large throne in his private library and laughed about how much money he had. There was no sign of forced entry on the door or windows and no sign that a ghost or sentient haze passed through the walls. The second reason is they had no idea that angels could die. The angels, only derricka, huddled in a chattering mass near the crime scene saying things like what could possibly kill an angel and does that mean that I too will someday die, but I don't want that to happen, that's not fair. The sheriff's secret police currently have no suspects, but have assured the public that they will as soon as they can make all the evidence look right. But more interestingly, I received a call from former mayor of Night Vale, Dana Cardinal. Cecil, I have reason to believe that this murder is not just about the death of one angel. I think that this murder is related to a secret. A secret that forces in Night Vale have worked to keep hidden for centuries. We must solve this case. For to solve this case is to learn something profound about this place we live, and perhaps about ourselves. And also because the person or persons who murdered Marcus are still out there, and I believe they will strike again, and soon. I'm reaching out to the best detectives in the business, hoping one will take my case. I'll let you know how it goes. Also long time no see. I hope you're good or whatever. I have been meaning to give Dana a call. I really should get to that. But more importantly, what if Dana is right? I'm glad she is getting an experienced detective here. All the best to the Sheriff's Secret Police who are great if you need something covered up, or a convenient patty pinned for a crime, but they just don't really have what it takes to, you know, actually use evidence to come up with a solution. More on this soon. But first, a word from our sponsors. Dana's show is brought to you by Little Roy's handcrafted potato chips. We're just a small family business, making the potato chips we love, and we hope you love them too. Our story is simple. Roy Little, nickname Little Roy, was always making his special potato chips for family parties, and everyone always said, Roy, you could sell these. And so, Roy did. And thus, the Little Roy's handcrafted potato chips story was born. Little Roy's handcrafted potato chips are proudly owned by Monco, owner of Matilda's proper potato chips, the Kerr family handcrafted chip company, and Doritos. Monco is in turn a proud subsidiary of LucidCorp, a family of companies that includes everything from paper towels to dog food to, that's right, craft family potato chips. If you can buy it in a grocery store, we own it. And so, in some tiny, important way, we own you. LucidCorp is a proud holding of Spectre Investments International. We are a small family-owned conglomerate who takes great care with groceries and laptops and fighter jets and publishing companies. All the other things we control, honestly, sometimes even we forget. So try Little Roy's handcrafted potato chips. Little Roy died three years ago. No one from any of those companies came to his funeral. Potato chips made with love. This has been a word from our sponsors. And now traffic. I think about my heart. This tiny muscle just has to keep going and going for as long as I do. Through my happiest moments, as I slipped the ring on my husband's hand, as Esteban looked up for the first time at me with his tiny, wondering eyes and reached up to pull my hair. At my lowest moments, when I say something to Carlos during a fight and I didn't mean it, but I know I've gone too far. And he'll forgive me, sure. That's what a marriage is. An ongoing celebration and an ongoing forgiveness, but the hurt will stick somewhere just a little. And I'll never be able to take it back. When I used to run in circles around the lawn as a child, imagining stories longer and more complex than any novel, a continuous imaginary life running parallel to my real one. When I sat by my mother's bed in the hospital, I understood that this was the shape of the rest of her life that it wasn't going to get better. Just different shades of bad. Through all of this, my heart beat and beat. And it cannot stop. Just as I cannot stop. As sometimes I am exhausted. And sometimes I am floating in a reverie. And sometimes I am so in love and sometimes I want to close my eyes and sit in a dark, quiet room for the rest of my life, but I have to keep going. And going for as long as I can, just like a heart. Just like my heart. This has been traffic. Another update from Dana. Let me just patch that in. Is it this button? Oh, nope. That one turns on the blender. I have no idea why we have one of those in the radio booth. Okay, this is the right one. I have tried reaching out to every detective I can think of. But mostly I can't even get through to their offices. Some connections from here to the rest of the world are fuzzy and scattershot at best. I did get through to a pair called Lou and Molly and Los Angeles. They had some very good online reviews, but Molly politely told me that they are being pursued by a dangerous criminal in a thrilling game of cat and mouse, and so their calendar is currently full. I also got a hold of an amateur detective named Keisha, who had, frankly, a fantastic voice. She has a lot of experience with the weird and the wild out there on the back-road corners of our country, but she says that she is unavailable. It seems she recently received a weird phone call and needs to go back out on those roads to investigate. A brand new adventure, she said. A new chapter in the tale of my life. I don't know what that meant, but it was kind of TMI and so I hung up. This is all really disappointing. That is disappointing, but if anyone can figure this out, it's Dana, my close friend who I really need to call for the first time in years. But first, the community calendar. Monday is the Global Dining Festival at Grove Park, presented by the Night Vale Culinary Society. The president, Audrey Grimes, explained, we've sampled the best and worst of what Night Vale has to offer. But we want to also be thinking globally. That's why we decided to dine on the globe. On the Earth, itself. She smiled. Her eyes were empty wells. Bit by bit, she said. We will eat the globe. The whole of it. We will taste everything it has to offer. You cannot stop us. We then dropped on to all fours and started biting the Earth. Mouthfuls of grass and then soil. She looked up at me with those empty eyes, dirt smeared on her chin and tongue and growled. So check that event out. Regular tickets are $15 and VIP tickets are $30. VIP attendees will be put in a big glass box labeled Look at these Rich Idiots for everyone to laugh at during the event. These days, my son Esteban will be presenting a magic show on our front lawn. He's only a kid, so please be nice. This is his first public performance. He will be doing some simple coin and card tricks and attempting to make contact with the dead, who wait for us just beyond the Vale. Apparently, this is all stuff he learned in which camp. Anyway, please show up. It'd be nice if he got a crowd. And who knows? You might get to glimpse that terrible nothing that awaits us all. Wednesday will be the reckoning. No more information has been provided, but the city council did suggest wearing a helmet and protective gear. Thursday is a block party thrown by the Desert Creek HOA, who recently knocked down all houses and moved the residents into rudimentary homes built into the Earth. This block party will have shivering, fires in big metal barrels and woman grabbing at your collar while weeping. Also hot dogs. Come on down. Friday believes in you and thinks you can become better. Friday will love you no matter what, but needs you to try for your sake, if not for its sake. Saturday is a little lie we tell ourselves to get us through the week. And on Sunday, Lieutenant Regis of Unit 7 of the local National Guard Station and KFC Combo Store will be stepping out onto his dusty porch and settling down into a rocking chair that hasn't rocked since one of the legs broke a few years back. He'll breathe slowly through his nose and stare at an ant that will cross the sand in front of his station. He will feel a longing so tangible that he will be able to locate it physically in his throat. The longing will sit there almost choking him, but his face will remain placid. The ant will disappear into the sand. Eventually, Regis will return into the station. Time will pass, some of it good and some of it bad. Mistakes will be made and some of them will not be fixable. A bird will perch on the roof, make one sharp and beautiful sound and fly away. This has been The Community Calendar. Dana called again. Let's go to her now. Ah, okay. That was the button that released the bats. Wish I hadn't pressed that. This is the right one here. I have tried detective after detective, but they all say things like, I don't know where night veil is, or I think you're prank calling me, or please stop prank calling me. It's infuriating. I need their help, but they will not offer it. And so I have come to a decision. I know what we must do next. We are in trouble. Have no doubt of that. But we are a strong and strange city. And I know that this turmoil also we shall weather. Sometimes I see nothing in people. Here is the church and here is the steeple. You're sucking me an invite to a networking event. I mean, you're building and I'm crawling through the vents. I am a product of time and motion. I know the backspot for beer and Brooklyn. I'm in the garden and I'm eating all the dirt. I get hurt. There's a guy in the subway on the saxophone. He's got nothing waiting for him back in home. He sees a big green bean start blocking the sky. I got my foot in the door. I got a barbecue bival in southern charm. I got skin in the game. But none of my arm I met the funeral. I'll try not to flirt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt. I get hurt I'm not a bad, a bad, chinny, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a bad, a writing a writing a writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing writing Hi, this is Rob Benedict. And I am Richard Spate. We were both on a little show you might know called Supernatural. It had a pretty good run, 15 seasons, 327 episodes. And though we have seen of course every episode many times, we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped, let's watch it all again. And we can't do that alone. So we're inviting the cast and crew that made the show along for the ride. We've got writers, producers, composers, directors, and we'll of course have some actors on as well, including some certain guys that played some certain pretty iconic brothers. It was kind of a little bit of a left field choice in the best way possible. The note from Krypki was, he's great, we love him, but we're looking for like a really intelligent, decovny type. With 15 seasons to explore, it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes. So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural, then and now. The secret police have left Marcus Vanden's manner. The grounds are sealed with police tape. Long shadows grow into darkness in its holes and its parlors. The sharp squawk of a radio from the single patrol car left to watch over the scene echoes through the sprawling gardens. This himself has been transported to the morgue, where an autopsy was performed. However, the coroner said that the autopsy did not turn up much useful information. As when he cut open the body of the angel, the angel was full of stars. A sweep of deep space, full of glittering stars and an entire universe I could have fallen into and started a new life I believe as a new person washed clean of all sin and regret to crew did this imperfect vessel of mine. The official autopsy report read, the report then had a drawing of a crack opening onto a field of stars, indicating by the frantic stabbing of little dots into the paper with a pencil, some so hard that the paper ripped all the way through. Interesting, but doesn't seem to give us much new information on the case. Fortunately, Dana has once again called in and I think you're going to want to hear this. Let me just… No, not again! He would think I would have gotten it by now. Sorry, it's this button. Nope. Nope, that was the blender again. It's this one. Hello Cecil, I have made a decision. We cannot get a detective to come to our town and solve our mystery for us. And so we have no choice. We must solve this mystery ourselves. I will act as detective. I have no training, no innate skill in the arts of detection. But I do have a determination. I know that we must understand what happened here or any one of us could be the next to die. And so I will examine the clues. I will interview the witnesses. I will come to some kind of solution or I will fall in failing. This locked room mystery must be solved. And I will be the one to do it. And so there you have it. Everything's fine. Dana's on it. Hopefully no one else gets murdered while she's solving it. That'd be a real bummer. I'm very proud of what my former intern has accomplished. She fought off her own double with a stapler. She became mayor of Night Vale. Confronted an army of doubles come to get their revenge and now she's getting into private investigation. Ah, all really exciting stuff. When looking to follow her footsteps and join the intern program, please stop by the station to fill out an application and do the required 10-day bootcamp. Stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next for a man saying stay tuned next Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Think, Jeffrey Kramer and Bree Williams. Sound design and production by Dispiration. The voice of Dana is Jessica Nicole. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin, original music by Dispiration. All that can be found at Dispiration.net. This episode's weather was, I Get Hurt by Victor Jones. Find out more at the link in our show notes. Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvail.com or follow us on Blue Sky at Night Vale Radio or on Instagram, Tumblr and TikTok at Night Vale official or try to tell which of these videos are AI each time feeling your soul get a little smaller. But mainly check out Welcome to Night Vale.com where we have a twice monthly mailing list that is the best way to keep up to date directly from us to you. Please sign up. We like talking to you. Today's proverb. Half off today. Yep, today ends at noon. It's a huge savings. Hey, Jeffrey Kramer here to tell you about another show from me and my Night Vale co-creator Joseph Fink. It's called Unlicensed and it's an L.A. Noir style mystery set in the outskirts of present day Los Angeles. Unlicensed follows two unlicensed private investigators who small jobs looking into insurance claims and missing property are only the tip of a conspiracy iceberg. There are already two seasons of unlicensed for you to listen to now with season three dropping on May 15th. Unlicensed is available exclusively through Audible free if you already have that subscription and if you don't, Audible has a trial membership and if I know you and I do, you can binge all that mystery goodness in a short window. And if you like it, if you liked unlicensed, please please rate and review each season our ability to keep making this show is predicated on audience engagement. So go check out Unlicensed available now only at audible.com.
