Hi, this is Joseph Fink. The one Fink to rule them all. After listening to a lot of Welcome to Night Vale, I have decided to write an episode of my own. Although I guess all the episodes are my own because this is me, Joseph Fink, and definitely no one else. Anyway, if you like this episode, or even if you don’t, and it gives you severe indigestion, please help me achieve my plans for world domination through the monopolization of secrets by leaving feedback. I, Joseph Fink, would greatly appreciate it. Thanks!

Today is the tomorrow you would have worried about yesterday, had yesterday existed. Welcome…to Night Vale.Da da da dummmm dum da da da dum da daToday dear listeners, is an exciting day. We here at the station have received our first ever piece of fan mail, which is strange, considering that our mailbox is the ever-burning fire pit in the middle of Malek Street. Nonetheless, there is an envelope sitting on my desk. It is sealed with motor oil, and the address of our studio is written on the front in cut-out images of magazine model’s heads. There is no return address. Let’s open it and see what’s inside. (Sounds of a letter opening) Oh my, I haven’t seen one of these in ages. Listeners, inside the envelope is a Polaroid picture. For those of you who are too young to remember, Polaroids are what photographers used to use before developing the modern day method of scratching images into bone with their talons. It would appear that the picture is still black, as if recently taken. More on this as it develops, but first, a word from our sponsor.Well listeners, it appears that this Polaroid is a picture of me, sitting in the studio, at this moment. I’m not sure how it was taken, but I must say it is a flattering gesture. To whoever sent this is, thank you, it is greatly appreciated. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll frame it and put it right here on my desk, next to Khoshekh’s box of fear-flavored kitty treats. You should see the way his spines perk up when he knows he’s about to get one. It really is just the cutest.Anyway, let’s take a look at the community calendar. On Monday, the Night Vale Shadow Cinema, in conjunction with John Peters—you know, the farmer, will be showing a movie entitled “Imaginary High Fructose Corn Syrup and You.” It is believed that this may be in reaction to recent allegations that products imagined to contain the ingredient can cause growth of a third head, bleeding of the fingernail beds, and an overall feeling of regret. When sought for comment, cinema staff placed popcorn kernels in their mouths and began to fire them at nearby reporters. It sounds like this should be a very fun, but also very educational, event. Tuesday will be characterized by a vague sense of guilt. You will not know the source of this guilt but will be painfully aware of those who do. Wednesday happened last week and went largely unappreciated. As such, it has been cancelled until further notice. On Thursday, head on over to Dark Owl Records for an Elvis Presley concert. The dress code for the concert consists of thick, Coke-bottle glasses, earmuffs, and raccoon skin hats. This Friday, rest assured that nothing will be happening, so stop asking. Saturday and Sunday are on sale this week, and may be purchased at the nearest hawk’s nest. Come prepared with photo ID and full immunization records. This has been…community calendar.Listeners, something very, very strange has happened and is continuing to happen. When I looked over at the picture on my desk, I noticed that, in it, I was missing a hand. My left hand was present as normal, but instead of my right one, there was only a scarred stump. I reached out to pick it up and get a closer look but realized that my actual hand was gone, just like in the picture. As I continue to look, I am noticing that more and more of me is beginning to disappear. My legs are now all but gone. My ears have faded, and I can no longer hear myself speak. It would appear that my mouth is now slowly dissipating into nothingness. I need to find some way to fix this. Listeners, I will be back shortly, but before I canm mo longmer mpeak, I make mou mm mmm mmm-mmmm.Dear listeners, everything is now okay. Just before my arm could disappear, I remembered what I learned while earning my Photography Badge with the Boy Scouts. The proper sacrifices have been made, and I am now no longer the subject of that terrible, terrible photograph. Unfortunately, it chose Intern Robert as its new target. He slowly and painfully faded into nothingness until all that was left was a slowly beating heart. Our deepest condolences go out to his family. But when it comes down to it, aren’t we all just beating hearts? Pounding against the chests of our reality in a futile attempt to escape. Sometimes all it takes is a view from the outside to put our lives in perspective. Our bodies will inevitably fade from existence, but our hearts will beat on forever.Stay tuned next for the sound of your grandmother’s China being smashed against your sense of self-worth, and as always, good night, Night Vale. Good night.Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Commonplace Books . This blog is not. At least, I don’t think it is.