An Entire Year of You

Chapter 17: Wheat Snakes (Part 1)

Professional locksmiths were hard to come by in Night Vale, which was rather surprising considering the amount of life ending dangers that could easily walk into people's homes. Luckily, after several days of sleeping in the lab, Josie pointed Carlos in the direction of a DIY store and sent the angels over to fit the lock. With the door secured and the armed fugitive captured, he returned to his apartment to get something resembling decent sleep. Things remained peaceful for nearly half a month, but Night Vale never stayed quiet for long. Threats came from the strangest of places, like Carlos' own kitchen.

It started early in the morning and Carlos thought he was a hallucinating at first. He walked into the kitchen, blurry eyed and still half asleep, in search of quick breakfast. Toast seemed like an easy fix. After all, toast had never done him wrong before. He took two slices out of bread out of the package and for a moment he could swear they had eyes. He shook it off and put them into the toaster. He'd barely turned his back when he heard a pop and an ear-piercing hiss. His bread was no longer seemed like an ordinary, perfectly viable breakfast option. Instead, through what Carlos could only presume was some kind of voodoo, they appeared to be live, thin snakes, and they clearly didn't like having the force of an artificial sun beating down on them. They leaped angrily onto the counter, burn patterns tattooing their scales. He stared at them, dumbfounded. He turned to his loaf of bread, which was now a bunch of snakes, all of which were staring right back. For a few seconds, there was a silent staring contest, which was finally broken by angry hisses. Carlos let out an involuntary scream and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him.

So, bread was snakes now. He wasn't as surprised as he should have been, but there was no denying that he was shocked. He wasn't sure whether they were venomous or not, but he presumed all enraged snakes were some degree of dangerous. There was no way he was going back into the kitchen until they were gone. Still, it wasn't like they were going to go away by themselves. The front door was closed and, thanks to him, locked. Besides, even if they did somehow leave the building, he didn't want them loose on the world. Night Vale may have been a dangerous place, but there were still innocent people around and he didn't want to add to the stack of problems. He had to call someone, but who? Pest control? He didn't know the number. The police? They hadn't been particularly helpful so far and he wasn't entirely sure that 911 was the correct number in the town. Things that were standardised elsewhere rarely matched with Night Vale. There was one number he knew. He wasn't sure how it would help, but maybe he could get some advice, or at the very least some moral support.

"Hello, this Night Vale radio. Cecil Palmer speaking." It was strange hearing Cecil sound so professional. Even on the radio his tangents and outbursts made his show seem so casual.

"Urr, hey Ce."

"Carlos." He replied energetically. There he was, excitable, emotion filled Cecil. His Cecil. "I have so much to tell."

"Um, can it wai-"

"So, you know that Apache Tracker guy? That's the asshole white guy in the cartoonish headdress."

"Is that the one who disappeared, and you said, 'thank God'?" asked Carlos. There was no escaping from conversations when Cecil was on a roll. It was like riptide; it was best to let it carry him.

"That's the one. Well somehow, he actually is native American now, and he can only speak Russian for some reason. That's weird right?" He asked.

"Near impossible, I'd say."

"I still hate him. How's your research going? Did you learn more about those...what was it, earthquakes? One's that nobody can feel?"

"Not yet, um, listen, do you remember those spicy cookies we had when you came over?" The time he would have to redirect the conversation towards the point would be short, this would be his one and only chance.

"Oh yeah, those were great. Always need milk with them though."

"Well, the good news is they definitely didn't contain wheat. The bad news is that everything that does contain wheat have turned into snakes and they don't seem very happy." Carlos explained.

"Sounds dangerous. Do you want me to tell my listeners?"

"Actually, I kind of wanted you to point me in the direction of some help but I guess you should let them know just in case this is going to become a regular occurrence. And hey, maybe they'll know what to do."

"No snakes back home, huh?" Cecil laughed.

"Not out just slithering around." Carlos muttered. The reptiles were hissing at his door now and the breakfast biscuits he'd been keeping in his top bedroom draw was now banging to get out. He stepped onto his bed in anticipation of a breakout.

"Don't worry about a thing, Carlos, I'll figure something out. Don't go anywhere. I'll call you right back."

"No, Cecil, wait." The phoneline went dead. He sighed. He was sure he'd be okay as long as he stayed on the bed with the door closed. Cecil would call him back eventually once something had been figured out. Several minutes passed. Five, then ten, then twenty. The hissing remained constant. Thirty, forty. After nearly an hour the apartment went silent. Carlos slowly approached the draw and peered inside. Good news, no longer a snake. Bad news, not a breakfast biscuit either. Not even close.