Symmetry is key. Everything must be aesthetically pleasing. Welcome to Night Vale.

Ladies and gentlemen, a strange group of young visitors entered Night Vale early this morning. No one, not even the Vague yet Menacing Government Agency, knows from where or when they came. The only information agents have managed to scrounge up comes in the form of a blurry photograph of a dark figure, silhouetted against the even darker night, riding what appears to be a flying skateboard and holding two female pistols. Who are these intruders? What are they? What do they want? More on this after a brief public service announcement.

A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body. It dwells also within a trendy suburban community, in a medium-sized white split level with mint-green shutters and a neatly manicured lawn. A sound soul has a keen eye for interior decor, and has done up its home in pastel blues and greens, with the occasional bright pink or yellow accent. A sound soul has a sound house insurance plan. Make sure you do too. This has been a public service announcement.

More now on the mysterious visitors. The two pistols seem to have been replaced with teenage girls dressed in what look like children's cowgirl Halloween costumes. One of the girls has short blond hair and is laughing. The other girl has less short, less blond hair and is not laughing. The boy is crying. He is pounding on the hot desert sand and sobbing. So, he's already picked up on one of our most hallowed Night Vale customs: pounding on the sand while crying until one's fists are scratched, bloodied and burnt by the scorching desert. Perhaps we were wrong to have judged these children as total outsiders.

And now, traffic.

Picture a boy and a girl. They are on a motorcycle. Both of them are too young to be driving a motorcycle, but the boy drives anyway. They are friends, but they are also more than that. They are partners. No, not that kind of partners. Not that kind of partners, either. They find each other very attractive, but neither finds the other cool. This is because each of them has a very different idea of what traits and actions make a person "cool." You know how it is. They are stuck in traffic. There is bad traffic where they are. Fortunately, you are not where they are. There is no traffic where you are. You are fine. Go ahead and drive. This has been traffic.

Ladies and gentlemen, the visitors have taken action in Dark Owl Records. In a statement she made right now, in her head, and which was picked up by invasive mind scans and brought to me just now, Michelle Nguyen said:

"They came in without even asking permission, and this kid was like, 'hello, can you tell me about any strange activity going on in this shop?' and I was like, 'what's with the hairdo? Shouldn't the stripes go all the way around?' and then he just started pounding the floor and screaming about symmetry. It was totally weird. And then when he calmed down he said there was some kind of evil soul in Dark Owl Records and he was here to take it. And the whole time, his cowgirl friends were messing around with my records and yelling and stuff. The tall girl has okay taste in music, but the short girl does not. Anyway, I told them I charge for evil souls just like for anything else here, and now all three of them are in the back, shooting at someone. They're ruining the edgy vibe of my store, and I don't like it."

So...that's what Michelle said. Make of it what you will. And now, a word from our sponsors.

Today's program is sponsored by Excalibur. Excalibur starts his day with a refreshing cup of coffee, a refreshing scone, and refreshing yoga. His afternoons begin with a spot of water ballet and some slam poetry. In the evenings, Excalibur watches cop shows and gets tipsy. The Holy Sword Excalibur is magnificence itself. Everyone else is a fool. Fools!

Um. This has been a word from our sponsor. Wow. How...lame.

Ladies and gentlemen, this just in-the visitors have left Dark Owl Records, and so has the evil soul they're allegedly pursuing. The soul in question seems to be inhabiting a large cardboard cutout of Woody Guthrie. Huh. Maybe Michelle was right about Woody...anyway, intern Hiro's texting me pictures of the action as we speak. The evil soul is rounding the corner of Black Lane and Star Blvd. It's running wildly down the lane. It's coming toward intern Hiro. It's getting closer-run, Hiro, run! Oh dear...

To the family and friends of intern Hiro: he was a very good doormat. No, not doormat-I meant to say intern. His sandwich-getting skills will be missed.

Listeners, as my source of information on current events has just been absorbed into the cardboard image of a famous folk singer, I have no other news worth reporting at the moment, so I suppose it's time for the weath- what was that?! Woody? Woody Guthrie?! No, please, listen to me! Don't take my soul, please-help! Help!

~the weather~

Night Vale, I have been saved. We have all been saved by this very precise young boy and his very friendly pistols. To them, and to whatever organization they stand for, I speak for the whole of our strange little community when I say thank you. Thank you for your kindness, for your bravery, and especially for tidying up my booth. You were right-symmetry is beautiful. Good night, strange young interlopers. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.