Bonus Episode: Crime Line

CREDITS: 

Your host, Deb, the sentient patch of haze, answers your question on how to do crimes.

The voice of Deb is Meg Bashwiner.

Music: Disparition http://disparition.bandcamp.com

Logo: Rob Wilson http://robwilsonwork.com

Written by Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor. http://welcometonightvale.com

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Produced by Night Vale Presents. http://nightvalepresents.com

TRANSCRIPT:

DEB: It’s 3am Night Vale, tell me about your crimes.

Hello listeners, it’s your favorite radio host Deb, the sentient patch of haze, here to talk you through the restless hours about your crimes. So load up those phone lines with all your nervous questions and guilty admissions. I’ll give you my advice.

But first, let’s look at the police blotter…

There’s a car on fire (specifically a 2005 green Ford Fiesta) on Galloway Road in front of the Scorpion Saloon. The Scorpion Saloon is Night Vale’s most popular biker bar, a seedy joint filled with biker gangs from all over the desert. You know the types. Middle-aged men in tight black shorts made of moisture wicking fabric, bright yellow jerseys, fitness trackers, plastic aerodynamic helmets and they all have little water bottle caddies on their downtubes.

No one messes with a biker gang, except for someone in a 2005 green Ford Fiesta. It seems that the owner of the compact, and fuel efficient, sedan parked a little too close to someone’s customized Pinarello single-frame bike with custom camel-leather seat. That bicycle was owned by biker gang leader Kyle, whose day-job is a real estate agent at Re/Max specializing in condominiums and new constructions. But by night, Kyle races a crew of road warriors up and down the dark highways seeking dangerous cardio thrills.

Kyle is the lead suspect in the destruction of the Ford Fiesta, but the Sheriff’s Secret Police say they have no plans to do anything about it. And I don’t blame them. Have you seen Kyle? 5 foot eleven, 158 pounds, prescription sunglasses, and New Balance Velcro kicks? Everyone, even the cops, are afraid of Kyle.

Kyle’s entire gang is now warming their hands over the Ford Fiesta fire on this chilly chilly desert night.

In Mission Grove Park, there’s been a report of vandalism. Some delinquent teenagers have defaced our city. It seems two 17 year olds, staying up well past curfew, have carved their initials onto Father Elm – the oldest tree in Night Vale. That tree was planted in town over 30 years ago. It has weathered nearly 2 generations of Night Valeans, and here these young lovers stopped making out for long enough to scratch JGP PLUS VM into the bark with a pocketknife.

And good for them.

Be in love. Do crimes, kids. That’s what I say. But what do I know? I’m just a sentient patch of haze.

Let’s get to your calls. Hi. You’re on the air. Who’s this?

ANON 1: I don’t want to use my real name.

DEB: Oh why don’t you just make one up, then?

ANON 1: Um, okay. How about Frime Tony in Fort Wayne. Oh! And uh, can you do a voice filter? I don’t want to be recognized.

DEB: Already doing it, Crime Tony. And you don’t sound recognizable. But you do sound hilarious.

ANON 1: Wow, thanks. So, Deb, I own my own waste collection company. I have some loyal clients and I make decent money. But it’s a lot of work having to pick up garbage, haul it to a transfer station and then repeat that several times a day, every single day. You have some tips on how I can keep collecting payments but not actually have to pick up so much trash?

DEB: Great question, Tony. I’d say just pick up the garbage and then move it to someone else’s house next door. That way you don’t have to put so much mileage on your vehicles. Also, you’ll work more quickly, making your existing customers happy while also increasing demand for waste collection by your non-customers. It’s a classic technique we sentient patches of haze call “The Backhanded Milkshake.”

ANON 1: Wait. Why do you call it that?

DEB: Next caller. You’re on the air with Deb.

ANON 2: Hi, this is The Prophet.

DEB: Hello, The Prophet, what’s your question about crime?

ANON 2: Well, so I started a farming commune a few years back with some friends. We just all liked growing vegetables together, and wanted to live off the land, away from the ratrace of the city. But one day, one of our members found my book of poetry, just some goofy little verses I’d written, and she decided I was a Messenger of God. And she started recruiting people to come hear my blessed words. And now our commune is over 300 people, and I think that’s legally a cult.

DEB: This doesn’t sound like a crime, The Prophet.

ANON 2: Well, that’s where you’re wrong, my lost little sheep. We’ve sacrificed nearly a dozen people in the last year to our god Huntokar, who definitely has returned to earth in a human form. She’s on the board of the Night Vale PTA. We’re hoping she’ll come out to visit us at some point, and when she does, we can begin to reformat the population. But my question is: how do you keep the media and the police from sniffing around a large operation such as ours.

DEB: Thanks for the call The Prophet. Unfortunately, you really can’t. I’m actually pretty knowledgeable on this subject. My cousins and spouses and children are all in a commune. We all live in one guy’s attic over off Marsh and Spring Lane. We don’t grow vegetables, because we don’t eat human food, but we do cultivate humidity, smog and scented candles. There are 57 of us sentient patches of haze in all. We’re all equal partners in our operation (though I think partners is a strange word. I prefer to call ourselves Servents of The Secret).

We’re an innocent little commune of air pockets but still the media likes to run hurtful narratives about us being a sex cult, which… how can patches of haze do sex things to each other? That doesn’t make any sense. Still it doesn’t stop those nosy reporters from running the story. And of course, this leads to the cops showing up every now and then. Oofta.

So while you cannot stop the narrative, you can certainly control it. I’d recommend some good old fashioned hospitality, The Prophet. Bake some cookies. Invite those reporters and police officers in. Make ‘em feel welcomed. Tell them about the great work you do. Maybe even get a promotional film produced and then show them that. Perhaps those cookies you made them have a little extra LOVE in the bake. And maybe that love kicks in while they’re watching the film. And maybe they’re all tied to chairs that are bolted to the floor and their eyes are clipped open. That way they have to watch even if they don’t want to. If you’re anything like us, The Prophet, you know that your message is the most important message around. And the more people who truly believe in it, the happier we all will be.

As my mom always said: “Kill ‘em with kindness. You must kill them. Kill them, Deb! [long pause] With kindness.”

And I’ll never forget it.

Before we get to our next caller, I’d like to remind you that tonight’s show is sponsored by Ace Hardware. This weekend Ace Hardware is having a sale on shovels, tarps, handsaws, and pick axes. Don’t know what you’re gonna do with all that. But it’s all on sale, just so you know. Ace Hardware: Your Business Is None of Ours. You do you.

Okay, next caller, you’re on the air.

ANON 3: Howdy Deb. I’m curious….

DEB: Heya, curious.

ANON 3: What are YOUR crimes?

DEB: Oh, I’m not really a crime-committin’ gal. I leave crimes to the criminals. To the professionals. I’m more of a fan. A really knowledgeable fan.

ANON 3: A fan of crimes?

DEB: Yep! Total Crime Fan. That’s me.

ANON 3: So you’ve never done a crime? Like say, living in a person’s house without their permission. Drifting through their air, never seen but always felt. Making noise all night and day, making scented candles in their attic, and never once even offering to pay rent. Even though they’re just trying to get some sleep. Because they have a job and a family, and they worked so hard to build a home. Yet here’s this sex cult of haze patches soaking up all the oxygen??

You’ve never done something like that?

DEB: Is this Vince? Vince Pechetsky?

ANON 3: Hey I thought this was supposed to be anonymous.

DEB: Vince, you know what the real crime is? Home ownership. Landlords are the real criminals. You’ll never see a dime from me. You know why?

One, well, because I don’t have any money. I’m a sentient patch of haze. I can’t even hold a credit card, let alone a fistful of cash. In fact, Vince, I can’t even make a fist, because I don’t have body parts. Who’s havin’ a tough day, now, huh?

And two, because you, Vince Pechetsky, refuse to fix the broken window in the attic. I have told you over and over that that window lets in all kinds of bugs. Plus it gets cold up there at night. You’re a bad landlord, Vince. A slumlord, I’d call you. That’s the real crime here.

So if you want my advice, and I think that you do, because you called my show (Crime Line, every Saturday night at 3am!), then I’d tell you to stop paying your mortgage, buy some razor wire and dare the bank to come take that house from you.

Sew a flag, proclaim yourself a sovereign anarchist nation. Declare war on the banks and enlist an army of rats and squirrels. And maybe every so often, listen to the whispers in the wind. Because they might just be your housemates. Your cashless, bodiless, just-trying-their-darnedest-to-make-it-in-this-cruel-world housemates.

Have a heart Vince. And thank you very much for your call.

That’s all for Crime Line. Stay tuned next for Love Boss, hosted by my sister Caitlyn, who will tell you everything you’re doing wrong in your relationship. She’s really good at that.

And as always… Do crimes, Night Vale. Do crimes.