TAPE 3: THE BAD BOY

RECORDING . . .

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Look at the person to your left. Now look at the person to your right. Odds are that one of the people you have just met eyes with is not, in fact, a person.

Welcome to Night Vale.

[ -NIGHT VALE THEME PLAYS- ]

Breaking news, Night Vale! It appears that our humble desert town has been struck down with an epidemic of...potted plants. That's right, listeners. The first potted plant was seen next to the bus stop near the gas station on Main Street. Nearby pedestrians noticed the plant around noon and reportedly ran screaming for their lives.

Since then, 26 similar potted plants have been spotted. If you have the misfortune of running into one, I suggest you do the same. Run. Run far away from this land and, hopefully, never return.

Run until your legs refuse to carry you. Run until your lungs cease to breathe. Until your eyes cease to see. Until your body ceases to be.

Run. Run. Run.

[ -whispers- ] Runnnnnn.

In similar news, there has been a break-in at the Museum of Forbidden Technology. Stolen objects include several panels of flooring, 3 roomfuls of air, the souls of about a dozen guests and the bodies (however not the souls) of 5 employees.

And now, a moment of silence for the victims.

[ -a moment of silence- ]

Oh. It appears that Carlos has come to visit! Hello, Carlos! What a joy it is to have you in my humble recording studio-what's that? You want me to turn off the recording equipment? But I'm in the middle of my broadcast! That simply isn't polite.

[ -background mumbling- ]

...oh, I just can't say no to that face~

I'm sorry, listeners! But I'm going to have to cut you off here and switch you over to a little program put together by old woman Josie last night called "Angel Report". Enjoy!

[ -static- ]

[ -increasingly loud static- ]

[ -electronic sobbing- ]

[ -an unrecognizable voice begging for eternal damnation- ]

[ -muffled screeching sounds- ]

[ -unbearably loud static- ]

[ -ten minutes of radio silence- ]

[ -a low giggle- ]

Well, Night Vale, I'm back. Oh, goodness, I forgot. This'll have to go in the...ah...secret file. That's what I'll call it.

[ -background rustling- ]

So…

[ -more giggling- ]

Carlos and I have begun dating! Well, he calls them "secret meetings". But that's only because we haven't officially announced our love yet. Also, Carlos has warned me that the experiments he is going to need my assistance with may or may not include participation in...illicit activities.

That's right, listeners! It appears I have a thing for bad boys.

Anyway. My apologies. I don't mean to go off on tangents, especially what with how tangents were outlawed last month.

Carlos may be a bad boy but I am not.

Anyway. I'm going off on tangents again. So. I went to Carlos's. He spent the afternoon going over some safety measures and precautions. I did my best to pay attention, but I fear I may have been distracted by the sight of his shapely lips. They were so perfect, as if carved out of sandstone. Sunbaked sandstone.

Mmmmmmmmm…..

[ -pause- ]

"I'm going to need you to start recording your narration of the experiments. As a sort of verbal diary, if you will," perfect Carlos said.

I, of course, heartily agreed.

"We'll conduct our first experiment tomorrow night. As long as you're available. You are available, aren't you?"

"Oh yes! I'm always available! All 38 hours of every day, 6 council approved days a week!" I proclaimed. "Not including Wednesday, which was cancelled, of course."

"Good."

I considered, at that point, that maybe I was playing too easy to get. "I mean...I'm probably available." I folded my arms, so as to appear guarded and mysterious.

He gave me an odd look, as if to ask "Are you seriously playing this game with me right now?"

[ -sigh- ] I melted. I was weak. I really can't act mad looking at that face of his. "Just kidding." I said. "I'm definitely available."

He smiled. Night Vale, Carlos has a beautiful smile. As he set up the recording equipment in his primary experiment room, I sat up on one of the tables and kicked my feet back and forth. I reached out and put my hand over his when he paused for a few minutes to scribble something down on a piece of notepad paper. He pulled away. But only after, like, a full minute, Night Vale.

Have you ever seen a truer sign of love? Probably not. You. Lonely. Cretin.

"Cecil…" he said.

"Yessssssssss?"

"I think we should get back to work."

I searched his cheeks for a blush.

"But work is so boring," I said. "I just came from work. Can't we do something more fun?"

"Science is fun."

"Science isn't-well, I mean, it is, but other things are fun too, are they not? Things like…"

He shoved a mic in my face. "Here. Practice. Pretend I'm...mixing chemicals, okay? Narrate what I'm doing."

"Okay." I watched as he poured imaginary chemicals into an imaginary beaker. "Beautiful Carlos and his beautiful, perfect hair is mixing what appears to be toxic chemicals in a subtle and delicate yet ingenious fashion-"

"No, no, focus on the science, not my...my…" Carlos's cheeks were red, listeners.

"Your luxurious hair?"

"Yeah." He looked away, face still flushed.

"Mmm...I'll try. Handsome...scientific Carlos is mixing chemicals. Their exact nature I cannot identify. I can only assume that they are toxic and destined to kill us all-"

"I never said they were toxic!" Carlos said, horrified.

"You told me to pretend."

He sighed and rested his face in his palm for a few long seconds. "Let's start over. The metaphorical chemicals I have are not toxic, they are not destined to kill us all. I'm simply mixing some enzymes to test a liquid solution for organic matter. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"Now go."

I lifted my microphone. "Exquisite, scientific Carlos stands before me, mixing chemicals that definitely are not toxic and destined to kill us all. I repeat, they are definitely not going to kill us all. Instead, Carlos has informed me that these chemicals, in fact, contain enzymes that should test whether the liquid solution he has contains living matter. Such living matter may or may not be toxic. It seems we may never know."

Carlos dropped his metaphorical chemicals. He facepalmed. Then, after letting out a drawn out groan, he walked over to me. He reached out and took the hand that was holding my microphone. He made me set it down and then held my hands together. "How about let's try tomorrow?"

"Why? I thought it was going well."

He breathed in sharply. "It was. But we're both tired and you said so yourself, you just came from work. I'm sure you'd like some rest, right, Cecil?"

"Well...I suppose so…"

He smiled. "Good." It felt nice, having his hands around mine. "You can drive yourself home okay, right?"

"I'll have to stop by the recording studio first to wrap some things up but yes, I can drive myself home just fine."

I got the feeling that he didn't trust me to get home safely by myself, Night Vale. Oh, Carlos! He worries about me. He really does.

After that, there was a low moaning that could be heard from beyond the walls of Carlos's laboratory/house. He looked all around. "You hear that too, right? It's not just me."

"You're talking about the monotonous chanting, right?" I asked. Just to be sure.

"Yes, of course!"

"Oh yes. That's been growing steadily louder for the last 10 minutes."

He looked at me in the eyes, his vision not wavering for a long two minutes. "Okay. Okay," he said, writing it down on a scrap of paper and putting it in my hand. "If anything happens, day or night, you call me, okay? Promise me you will."

My heart thumped so hard, listeners, that I was sure he could tell. I tried to play it cool. Remember: strong, silent type. Guys go for that.

"Yeah, I mean, probably…" I said.

"Promise me," he growled. His grip on my hands became tighter. "I mean it, Cecil."

"Y-Yeah," I said. "I promise."

[ -pause- ]

[ -clearing throat- ]

Our second promise, listeners.

END RECORDING. . .

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