"All My Vows And All My Heads." (Welcome To Night Vale) G
Title: All My Vows And All My Heads. (On Archive Of Our Own)
Author:
lannamichaels
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale
Rating: G
A/N: You all know the drill by now. Anyway, in the time since writing When They Said Repent, Cecil has become canonically Jewish. So obviously I had to give this another shot. ;)
Summary: When will the holidays be over? It may be a month. It may be a year. Holidays do not always end.
Here is a list:
A horn of a ram.
A branch of a tree.
The lifetime production of a bee.
A song you only somewhat remember.
A dance you only somewhat remember.
Someone looking at you.
Shoes, none of them leather.
An imported lemon.
A fist against your chest.
A drop of rain.
Welcome to Night Vale.
---
Listeners, it has been brought to my attention that I have, at times, made promises on this show, possibly flippantly or off the cuff, that I didn't end up keeping. I am deeply sorry that I may have raised your expectations of something and then not delivered. I will do better in the future, I promise.
Unless that's another promise I don't end up keeping, in which case, my bad.
---
The Night Vale Farmers's Market Association reminds you that there are only a few more weeks left to attend a farmers's market. Farmers's market attendance is mandatory, so don't forget to not-forget! All citizens who do not have a smiley face "I Survived The Night Vale Farmers's Market" sticker to show to the secret police will be publicly tsked at and told to do better next year.
But don't fret! There is still time to come on down to the farmers's market and get yourself something nice. How about a fruit you haven't had all year? That sure sounds nice. Nice and your civic duty, what a great combination!
---
I was having dinner the other night with Hadassah McDaniels and suddenly I realized I didn't know how many people a five-headed dragon was. I think it's five? They're five different people? Do they share some kind of telepathy? I mean, we've all seen five-headed dragons talk as if they were one person with one unified thought process, and the reservation at the restaurant was a table for two, you understand, and the dragons have also been staying at hotels with very strict rules about the number of occupants allowed per room.
I asked Hadassah about this and she in turn asked me if my ears were two different people. I said, yes, sometimes they are, but sometimes they're not. They have no independent movement, though. Except for that time when I won an ear-wiggling contest back at school, and I wiggled them all the way to the farmers's market hibernation caves. Honestly, listeners, I think the metaphor got beyond me at that point, and one of Hadassah's heads swerved around to peer interestedly at my ears.
Anyway, Hadassah told me that dragons consider themselves one person but also five people, depending on the circumstance and the question. They have one body, they all share arms and wings and legs and scales. They have one heart and one nervous system between the five of them, but they have five brains and five opinions. The dragons's own language deals with this distinction much better than English does, I have now been informed. Things like "how many people are you" and "shouldn't you be paying extra occupancy fees" are non-dragon categories that dragons feel no need to fit themselves into.
"They're your categories," said Hadassah. "If you can't fit us into them, that's your fault. You should have made better ones."
I protested that they weren't my categories, I'm just a reporter, a voice of the people. Anyway, Hadassah waved a wing at me when making a point, which totally decapitated the jukebox in the corner, and I had to duck under the table to avoid getting drenched in pop music. It's really hard to get that stuff out of your clothes, you know. Carlos's favorite lab coat still smells like a dance remix and we've tried everything.
---
They are standing at the edge of the water. They have books in their hands. The water has no books, or hands, just fish who don't know how to read. The fish don't know a lot of things. They have no need to.
The ones standing at the edge of the water finger the pages of their books. One of them gets a paper cut. Another provides a bandage from a pocket.
They don't know why exactly they are here. They come every year. It is just something that they do. One of them at one point must have known a reason, but that reason has not been shared with the rest of them.
One of them, young, wearing shoes that are a little too tight, but nonetheless shoes that they will have to keep until the holidays are over, tries to bend down to touch the fish. The adults stop the child. The fish are not to be touched. That is not what the fish are for.
The child asks, when will the holidays be over?
It may be a month. It may be a year. Holidays do not always end.
Every year, the fish absorb pain.
This has been Traffic.
---
Station Management has just sent Intern Francine to slip this under the door. It reads: "One. One and one. One and two. One and three. One and four. One and five. One and six. One and seven."
Huh. Wonder what that's all about.
---
Sharp-eyed, and sharp-radar'ed, listeners are reporting instances of five-headed dragons flying over the no-fly zone near the bloodstone circle excavation site, in violation of several string boundaries that are in place. Passers-by are also concerned about birdstrikes. When reached for comment, Miriam Adelman, the lead lawyer for the five-headed dragons, told locals not to worry, and that any birds who come too close will be directed to alternate sites for union organizing.
I also want to point out to certain listeners who won't be named that if they want to get in contact with their sister or any other sibling, calling me about local airspace violations is not the way to do it. Pick up a phone, Hiram.
---
And now, a word from our sponsors:
There is a house. This house has many doors. This house has many windows. Each window looks out over a vista that you cannot reach through any of the doors. Some of the doors are painted. Some have beautiful wallpaper prints of plastic grapes and paper chains.
Despite all the doors and all the windows, there is no ceiling and there is no roof. Surely, you would think, a roof would be a priority. Why didn't they think to build a roof? Did they forget? Instead, someone put what looks like, uh, yep, someone's put their firewood pile on top of all the walls. This is a bit haphazard and it's certainly a fire trap. You for sure do not want to live here. Why are you thinking about living here? It's scenic and all, but maybe you should just rent a cabin on the lake. It seems a lot safer.
This place sure does look like it would fall over in any stiff wind. No number of doors or windows are going to prevent that. Do you really still want to live here? And you're thinking of having guests every night? Ugh, there's just no reasoning with people.
Home Depot. For all your needs. You know. Those needs.
---
The City Council would like everyone to know that bears do not exist. If you have seen any bears recently, well, you didn't. There are no bears anywhere near here, the City Council stressed. There are no bears at all! Are you sure you didn't just see a cactus? There are no bears and there are no forests. If you see any bears, please stay away from them, because they do not exist.
---
I was doing one of my public chanting gigs over the weekend. The audience at these things really varies, you know. This time, for the first time, there were several five-headed dragons in attendance. That was mostly what I'd been talking to Hadassah about during dinner before I got really excited about my potential audience numbers, and well, I've already told you all about that.
Anyway, I was chanting for one of the many celebrations about water that we have here in our humble desert community. This one had followed celebrations about trumpets, competitive standing, and the great outdoors. I'm glad the dragons were able to make it. It's always great when we can extend our civic traditions to visitors and participate in cultural exchange.
I asked them what they thought and they said I should do more roaring, so, great news, listeners! I've started vocal exercises and I will be added roaring to my repertoire. I should be ready by the time the eight-day festival of fire rolls around in a few months. I'm so excited!
---
Lost: one really big fish. Like, the biggest you've seen, ever.
Found: the prayers of a city.
Lost: a sense of pride, a certain amount of perspective, although I'm still not over the fish, wowza, that fish was big.
Found: mercy for a city; a plant you didn't help to grow.
Lost: nothing. Nothing has been lost.
(Uh, Francine, it says right here, "how long was it? Three days long." Can you go talk to the newsroom... yes, I know it's been a rough month, but... yeah, great, thanks, Francine.)
---
And now for the community calendar. All Tuesdays will remain Tuesdays. The next three Wednesdays are now Fridays. Last year's supply of excess Saturdays will be distributed randomly throughout the month, so keep your eyes peeled. We are also told that one of the upcoming Mondays may in fact be a Sunday in disguise. Be the first to identify it correctly and receive this handsome statue of Lee Marvin.
And as always, be sure to keep an eye on--
---
THE WEATHER
(Leonard Cohen - You Want It Darker | Lyrics)
---
And the weather forecast is certainly correct! It is, in fact, dark now. Night has fallen, as it does whenever it feels like it. Night doesn't keep to a real schedule, you know. And it would be silly of us to expect it to! Ha ha, how silly of us. If our clocks or our calendars worked the way they're advertised to work, we would lack the essential thrill that makes life worth living.
The nights are getting longer now, and the days shorter. The sun's time in our sky always varies, of course, but sometimes it seems that even when the sun is shining, the entire world around us is dark. Because sometimes, uh, sometimes some of us forget to pay the electric bill and the studio we work in doesn't have any windows. Not that I'm pointing any fingers, you understand.
In a totally unrelated note, Night Vale Community Radio could really use your donations. You'll all be receiving a donation card in the mail. Just stare at it and think really hard about the amount of money you want to donate, and Station Management will make sure it is transferred from your bank account immediately. No need to write a check! What a convenient way to support public radio. We will also take used cars that you don't want anymore. You won't receive a tax deduction for it, but you will be providing valuable scrap metal for our compost pile.
And as the day dwindles down, I'm glad to be able to say that I've gotten to know our resident five-headed dragon community better. Sure, they may make the population of our fair town even more complicated to calculate, but that's what imaginary numbers are for! There are no better numbers than imaginary numbers. Think of all the wonderful numbers you can imagine. Sixty-seven. A hundred and twelve. Five thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-eight. None of these numbers are real. All of these numbers have excellent potential.
And it is with this potentiality, and with this on-going night, that I bid you, good night, Night Vale. Good night.
This entry was originally posted at http://lannamichaels.dreamwidth.org/986139.html.