(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell)
Tonight's show brought to you by Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
It's been a hard day at work (ANGRY SHOUTS), hostilities broke out between Marketing and Accounting (GUNFIRE, EXPLOSIONS), and it's ugly and no prisoners are taken (GUY FALLING FROM WINDOW), and they're about to stick your fingers in a socket when - (SS: UNHAND HIM!!) - your boss Miss Finch comes to the rescue (SS: YOU TOUCH HIM AND I'LL STICK YOUR HAND IN THE PAPER SHREDDER) (MALE GRUMBLES) and they let you go (TR: You saved my life, Miss Finch. Thank you.) and you finally limp home exhausted (TR WEARINESS) and pop open a cold one (POP TOP CAN) and you sit down and watch TV (TV AUDIO: PASSIONATE MURMURS, MALE, FEMALE) and it's pretty explicit stuff (TR: Wow! Look at that! Kowabunga!). You got all those extra channels when you signed up for cable - (MORE STEAMY AUDIO) and it just gets sweatier and steamier and suddenly (TR BREAKS INTO SOBS) - suddenly it dawns on you that you haven't had a date in about eight months. You've been working so hard. (TR: I gave my life to accounting and now I have no love - no passion! I wonder if I still remember how to kiss!) so you pick up a cushion off the couch and (TR KISSING, TRYING OUT DIFFERENT STYLES, LONGER, SHORTER) you practice for awhile and you're getting the hang of it and you take a look at yourself in the mirror (TR: Not bad. Presentable.) and you test your breath (TR EXHALE, THEN SNIFF: Could be worse.) and you test your underarms (TR SNIFF: Darned good for what it is.) and suddenly you remember (TR: Miss Finch.) She is so wonderful. Could you call up your boss and ask for a date? (TELEPHONE DIALING) Or is this a terrible mistake? (TR: Miss Finch....it's Mr. Tibbetts. I was wondering ...) And you invite her out for dinner. Tonight. (TR: Yes??? Do you mean it??? Oh, Miss Finch. You don't know what this means to me.) and you turn on the bathwater (FAUCET) and you dump in some bath powder and you're just about to step into the tub when the phone rings. (PHONE) an MCI telemarketer who keeps you on the phone for 45 minutes telling about their rate structure, and by now it's too late for a bath, so you (SPRAY) put on some deodorant and dash out the door (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, DOOR SLAMS) and you race five miles to Larry's House of Good Food (SPEEDING CAR, SCREECHING TIRES) and arrive there and give your car to the valet parker
(TR: Be careful, okay? TK: Yes, sir ) (HORRIBLE TIRE SQUEALS) Miss Finch is waiting inside. (SS: Good evening.) The maitre d' leads you to a table right by the kitchen (KITCHEN NOISES. TR FRENCH: This way your food will be nice and hot, monsieur.) You start to make small talk (TR: So, you're a Sagittarius. I'm a Pisces, with my moon rising in Venus. You interested in astrology?) and Miss Finch takes your hand in hers (SS: I've been waiting for this moment ever since you were transferred into my department, Mr. Tibbetts. Waiting for the time I'd be free to say what's in my heart.) and you try to be cool (TR: Oh?) but your heart (POUNDING HEARTBEAT) is pounding and then (SS: It isn't dinner I'm interested in, Sid. Why don't we go to your place?) (HEART POUNDS HARDER) (TR: Oh my golly gosh.) You run out to get your car and the valet parker is nowhere in sight. (TR: Hey!) And you report this to the maitre d'. (TR FRENCH: What valet parker, Monsieur? We have no valet.) Your car. (TR: Stolen.) So Miss Finch hails a cab (SS: HEY! WHISTLE) (TIRES SQUEALING) and you both get in and head for your house and as you come closer (SIRENS)
you see the flashing red lights in front and there seems to be water in the street and then you remember. (TR: I forgot to turn off the bath.) (BRAKES) You get out. (WET SLOSHY FOOTSTEPS) (TK: This your house, fella?) Water is pouring out the front door. (CREAKING) The whole front wall seems a little shaky. (TK: Look out!) (CRACKING AND CRASHING OF HOUSE) Your whole house collapses into the yard. Your furniture lies there in the mud, your kitchen utensils, your linens. And just then a man in a trenchcoat hands you several photographs. (TR: What???) They're pictures of you kissing a couch cushion. (TK: Two hundred bucks for the negatives.)
(RHUBARB THEME)
Wouldn't this be a good time for a piece of rhubarb pie? Yes, nothing gets the taste of humiliation out of your mouth like Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
(RHUBARB SONG)
(c) 1998 by Garrison Keillor