(THEME)
CF: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the busy streets, on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions --- Guy Noir, Private Eye ---
(GK SINGS)
CF: When we left Guy last week, he had learned from his landlord Lou that the Acme Building was to be renovated for a health club, hair salon, and lawyers offices, and as we rejoin him this week (SFX PACKING), Guy is finishing packing up the contents of his file drawer into a cardboard box..... (SERIES OF PACKING SFX)
GK: Corkscrew....flashlight....lock picks......false moustache.....thesaurus.... my scrapbook with my clippings...... rotgut whiskey.....45 pistol....ashtray ....my Emily Dickinson.....my Passport 360 cologne..... Funny, you come to this big moment in your life when you're moving on and you discover how little there is that really matters to you. Oh well. (KNOCKS ON DOOR) Yeah....who is it? (DOOR OPENS)
TK: You order the cab?
GK: Yeah, be right down.
TK: Want me to carry that?
GK: Sure. Thanks.
TK: Is this it?
GK: That's it, pal. The souvenirs of a wasted life.
TK: Okay. Whatever. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
GK: Well.....goodbye, walls. (SLOW FOOTSTEPS, REFLECTIVE) Goodbye, ceiling. Goodbye, floor. Sorry, I didn't keep you cleaner. Goodbye, desk. And all you flies in the window. Good luck. Bye, everybody. (DOOR CLOSE) (FOOTSTEPS) And I walked away. The hall was as dim as a defendant's memory. I walked to the elevator (ELEVATOR DING, DOORS OPEN) and it opened and there they were....all the other passengers on the night train to nowhere.
TR: Hi, Guy.
GK: Hi, Saul. Too bad about the building.
TR: Yeah.
GK: Gonna miss your cigar store, Jimmy.
TK: Thanks, Guy. Here. Have a stingeroo on me.
GK: Thanks. Gonna miss buying my newspaper from you, Doris.
CF: Yeah....well....nothing's forever.
GK: Yeah. (DING, DOOR OPEN) Bye, everyone. (FOOTSTEPS)
TR (OLD MAN): Your cab is waiting, Mr. Noir.
GK: Thanks, Johnny. Good luck. And here....(FOOTSTEPS STOP)
TR (OLD MAN): A quarter. God bless you, Guy.
GK: God bless you, Johnny.
TR (OLD MAN): So where you heading for, Guy?
GK: I donno, Johnny. Thinkin of headin west. Start a new life or somethin. Become a therapist of some kind.
TR (OLD MAN): You're not gonna continue your legendary career as a two-fisted, rod-wielding gumshoe?
GK: Most of the legend wore off a long time ago, Johnny. (FOOTSTEPS) I'm just a heavyset guy in a baggy suit now, with soup stains on his tie and a sad song in his heart. Anyway---- take care, old codger.
TR (OLD MAN): You too, Guy. (FOOTSTEPS, CAR DOOR SLAM, CAR PULL AWAY) (INTERIOR)
TK: Where to, pal?
GK: Train station, mister. And take your time. The Sunset Limited don't leave for three more hours.
TK: Whatever you say, pal.
GK: He turned the corner (SQUEAL OF TIRES) and headed for the Union Depot and suddenly we were cruising Skid Row....and I recognized a lot of people I used to know......retired cops....former writers....singers.... claims adjusters... sitting in doorways, one palm outstretched, the other clutching a short dog of port....
TR (OFF-MIKE, IN PASSING): Hey Guy!
GK: Who---- that was---- that looked like Danny---
TK: Want me to pull over?
GK: No, no. No, that's all right. Just an old friend.... (WISTFUL MUSIC BRIDGE TO---)
CF: We'll be back with more Guy Noir, after a word from the Ketchup Advisory Board.
TR: That's Jennifer. My daughter. Kinda proud of her, both Sue Beth and I. Graduated number one in her class at Harvard, rowed on the crew that took the gold at Los Angeles, wrote a book of poems that won a Pulitzer. Met this guy, married him. Here's one of the kids. That's Jeremy there. The little one with the big smile. They live in Montana now and --- well, we go out to see em about every chance we get. And when we do, we always take a big bottle of ketchup.
CF: (THOUGHTFULLY, ON THE BRINK OF TEARS) Thanks, Dad.
TR: We're so proud of you. And we love you so much.
CF: Ketchup. It really is the little things that count, isn't it.
TR: That's right, honey.
CF: I love you, Dad.
TR: What do you say we go in and have a plate of beans and franks? Just like always.
CF: Oh, Dad...!
TR: It isn't easy to say "I love you" but there's no better way than with a big bottle of ketchup. Now in keepsake heirloom decanters. And now back to Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC)
TK: Here's the Union Depot, mister. (CAR SWERVES, ACCELERATES, PULLS TO STOP). That's a buck and three quarters.
GK: Here's two. Keep the change.
TK: Gee, thanks. (DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS. SOME CROWD)
GK: The depot was full of people though I noticed they weren't carrying suitcases, they were carrying shopping bags. (VOICES IN PASSING, BIG DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE) Excuse me. Pardon me. (MORE CROWD NOW) I walked into the main waiting room and there were shops everywhere. (FOOTSTEPS STOP)
CF: May I help you?
GK: Just looking at your coffee menu up there, ma'am.
CF: Our special today is the Malaysian Mocha Breakfast Blend, the double skinny extra latte cinnamon syrup topped with chopped chocolate and cashews, for five ninety five.
GK: No, that's okay, thanks. (FOOTSTEPS) Five ninety five for coffee. What's the world coming to. (VOICES IN PASSING) The last I knew, this was a big marble hall where the train caller read off the list of station stops and now there was a Laura Ashley and a Benetton and a Gap and a toystore and a candle store and a wine shop and a store that just sold socks and a store called The White Elephant that sold large expensive useless things and a sign pointed to The Food Emporium, so I went that way, and there, under a peaked roof, were dozens of restaurants, each one with a different theme....there was a bistro called Fifi's and Sven's Smorgasbord and a burger place called How Now Ground Cow where the waitresses wore cow bells, and a place called Joe's Hash House....sort of a gangster motif with Forties decor, Art Deco windows and plush leather booths. The bartender smoked a cigar and carried a Chicago Typewriter, a tommygun....I ankled in there. (DOOR OPEN, FORTIES PIANO) (FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSE)
TR: You lookin for lunch, mister? Or you lookin for trouble?
GK: Gimme a table in the corner. A shot of rye whiskey, a boiled egg, and a pack of peanuts. And make it snappy. (FOOTSTEPS) --- The joint was dark but I made my way to the corner and found an empty booth and (HE SITS DOWN) sat and next thing I knew....
CF: Hey there, sailor, new in town?
GK: Don't I know you from somewhere?
CF: Oh boy. Mister, that line is so old, it needs a walker---- hey--- Guy?
GK: Louise?
CF: It's you, isn't it.
GK: I can't believe it. Louise.
CF: Actually, I'm going by the name Lindsay now. Lindsay LeToile.
GK: You haven't changed a bit.
CF: Well, it's dark in here....
GK: You're as beautiful and elegant and glamorous as ever, Louise.
CF: Well, you're....you're just as....as handsome and...
GK: Spare me the soft soap.
CF: Sorry.
GK: What you doing here? You waitressing?
CF: I'm between engagements right now.
GK: So you're still acting, huh?
CF: Of course. And you?
GK: I don't know. Just got kicked out of my office. I'm on my way to L.A. Or somewhere. Gotta catch the Sunset Limited in a couple hours.
CF: Guy?
GK: What?
CF: The trains don't run here anymore.
GK: No?
CF: You're sitting in the old train shed. It got renovated.
GK: Lot of that going around. Well....sit down. You got a minute?
CF: For you? Of course. (MUSIC)
GK: She sat across from me and pulled out a cigarette and matched it (MATCH) and in that flaming moment it all came back, our love affair....and the day I held her close and felt her tears run down my face and let go...and she was gone...
CF: What are you thinking about, Guy?
GK: Nothin much. So you auditioned for any good parts lately?
CF: I had a part. A great part. I was supposed to play the title role in "Madame Bovary" and then the director upped and quit.
GK: Gee, that's too bad.
CF: We were going to go into rehearsal next week, but he walked out.
GK: What was it? stage play? movie?
CF: Radio.
GK: Oh. At one of the major studios?
CF: Empyrean.
GK: Ah.
CF: My big chance. I waited for years for it. And I guess I lost it.
TR: Oh hi, darling. (AIR KISS) I've been looking everywhere for you.
CF: Chris. Hi.
GK: Hello....
TR: Oh. I didn't see you. So sorry.
CF: Guy, this is my co-star, Chris Genteel.
GK: Pleased t' meetcha. Guy Noir's the name.
TR: Lovely. Mind if I join you? Good. Thanks.
GK: (MUSIC) He was tall and tan, with blonde hair that fell oh-so-carelessly over his brow. He was dressed entirely in black, thus revealing himself as an artist.
TR: So--- any word from the studio?
CF: No. Nothing.
TR: Oh well. Something else will come along.
CF: I'm devastated. I've waited years for this part.
TR: Don't worry. You can always come out to L.A. with me, darling.
CF: Oh?
TR: Leaving tomorrow if this radio deal doesn't work out. Be glad to buy you a ticket. Huh? What do you say?
GK: She says, "No, she's gonna pursue her career right here, thank you very much."
TR: (PAUSE) I'll ignore that. ---Anyway, don't worry, Lindsay. I'll take care of you.
GK: He put his arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair like a man petting his prize show dog. I cut in quicker than a two-dollar massage. ----Lindsay....excuse me.....what's the name of the producer at Empyrean, the one who's producing "Madame Bovary" and looking for a director?
CF: His name is Nibs, Guy. Benjamin Nibs. But why?
GK: I'm gonna go see him about a job.
TR: You some kind of a stagehand?
CF: Guy is a private detective.
GK: Was a private detective. Now I'm a director.
TR: You? Ha! (HE LAUGHS)
GK: Let me hear that laughter again, Chris, but a little longer, a little deeper....
TR: Okay. (HE LAUGHS AGAIN, DEEPER)
GK: That was good. I liked that. Now let me hear that laughter with an edge of fear and uncertainty to it, as if you're trying to laugh but, down deep, you realize you may be facing a bigger man than you are.
TR: Uhh...okay. (HE LAUGHS UNCERTAINLY)
GK: That's good. Now turn your face slightly to the right.
TR: Like this?
GK: That's good. (HE WINDS UP AND SOCKS HIM. TR OOF AND FAINT)
CF: That wasn't nice, Guy.
GK: I'll show you nice later, Louise. Right now, I'm off to see Mr. Nibs. (THEME)
CF: Join us again next week for the continuation of our story, when we hear Guy say....
GK: Madame Bovary? Of course I know it, Mr. Nibs. It's the novel by Flaubert.
TK: Oh yeah? What's it about then?
GK: It's about what all great literature is about, Mr. Nibs. It's about the quest for beauty in the midst of this ash heap we call reality.
TK: Uh huh...I see.
GK: Guy Noir, Private Eye, is brought to you by the Ketchup Advisory Board.
TR: (SFX-BIRDS CHIRPING) Good morning, honey. What's for breakfast?
CF: Well, it's over there on the table, dear.
TR: Say, this isn't my usual breakfast of poached eggs and a side of toast. This is a big bowl of ketchup!
CF: That's right! TR: Ketchup for breakfast. What a kicky idea! (THEY LAUGH FOR NO REASON)
GK: Ketchup, it's not just a condiment anymore. It's a nutritious breakfast, and a whole lot more. So just say, fill it up, with ketchup!
CF: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, and there at the crosswalk looking for a taxi is a guy still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions.....Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
©1996 by Garrison Keillor, John Knoerle, and Rich Procter