(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell, RB: Roy Blount, Jr.)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but on the 12th floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions - Guy Noir, Private Eye.
(THEME UP AND OUT)
GK: It was one of those cold cloudy days that you get in November, sort of nature's way of reminding you that depression is one option. I'd eaten an egg roll for lunch and was trying to pick a shred of celery out from between a couple of back molars and trying to come up with a five-letter word for "snake" when - (PHONE RINGS. PICK UP) Yeah. Guy Noir here.
TR (PHONE): Guy, it's Jimmy. Down at the Five Spot.
GK: Yeah, right. What's going on, Jimmy?
TR (PHONE): Guy, there's a woman in a black turtleneck here -
GK: Oh oh. A designer.
TR (PHONE): Exactly. And she's measuring the joint for teak paneling and counters and - and -
GK: And what, Jimmy?
TR (PHONE): Giant espresso machines.
GK: No. Not Starbucks!
TR (PHONE): She's a Starbucks architect.
GK: They're everywhere.
TR (PHONE): They opened one last week where Grogan's used to be.
GK: The pool hall is gone?
TR (PHONE): It's a Starbucks now.
GK: Ohhhhhh-
TR (PHONE): And the Five Spot is next. The building isn't going to renew our lease, Guy.
GK: How can they do this? It's unthinkable.
TR (PHONE): They're measuring right now for the window counter.
GK: It's vandalism. We can't let 'em get away with it.
TR (PHONE): By the way, there's a guy here. He's from Atlanta. He's looking for you, Guy.
GK: Oh. - You don't happen to know a five letter word for "snake," do you?
TR (PHONE): Snake is a five-letter word.
GK: I know that. I'm looking for another one.
TR (PHONE): Cobra.
GK: Mmmm. Naw. Doesn't work. 14 across is "Venetian" - so it's got to end with an "t".
TR (PHONE): "Venetian" - what's the clue?
GK: School or style of art.
TR (PHONE): Eight letters?
GK: Right. "Venetian".
TR (PHONE): How about "eclectic"?
GK: No, because 6 across is "furtive" - never mind, I'll be right there. (MUSIC BRIDGE) Atlanta ... I couldn't remember anybody I knew in Atlanta. Only time I went there (MUSIC TIME SHIFT) I was tailing a guy from Minneapolis who his wife suspected was having a romance with a waitress at George Jones Barbecue Chicken. He flew down, he rented a car, I followed him, and he spent half a day driving in circles. Finally I got tired of it. (FOOTSTEPS, STREET AMBIANCE) Hey? You!
TR: What? Who are you?
GK: A private eye hired by your wife and I've been tailing you for four hours, so are you going to get there or not, huh?
TR: I'm looking for Peachtree.
GK: Street?
TR: No, Peachtree Avenue.
GK: Peachtree Avenue or Peachtree Battle Avenue?
TR: Peachtree Hills Avenue. She said that if I found Peachtree Center Avenue, I couldn't miss it.
GK: Miss what?
TR: The Peachtree Motel.
GK: There was a Peachtree Motel about a mile back that way. On Peachtree Industrial Court.
TR: That was the Peachtree Court Motel.
GK: Are you sure that isn't it?
TR: She said it's on Peachtree Hills Avenue one block beyond Peachtree Drive.
GK: No wonder adultery is so rare in Atlanta. You set up a rendezvous, by the time you manage to find the address you're not in the mood any more.
TR: Maybe it's on Peachtree Industrial Avenue...Oh well...Guess I may as well head home. You won't tell my wife, will you?
GK: Tell her what? (MUSIC TIME SHIFT AND UNDER) I headed over to the Five Spot, expecting to find people drinking tall lattes and reading The New Republic. But (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSE) there was Jimmy behind the bar and a big guy in a trenchcoat working on a beer. And a woman in a black turtleneck. A beautiful woman (SAX) A woman who did things to a black turtleneck that made me wish I was the turtle.
TR: Hey, Guy -
GK: Jimmy - how's it going?
TR: This is Sharon Qualley.
GK: Ms. Qualley, you're - you've - you're a woman, aren't you?
SS: Actually, my name is Sharon Quigley-Qualley. Marty and I decided to hyphenate when we got married.
GK: Ah. You're married. Why am I not surprised?
TR: Tomorrow, she's bringing in tile samples...
GK: Bring me a drink, Jimmy.
SS: As long as you're standing there, you mind holding the tape measure -
GK: Hold it where?
SS: Just hold the tape measure to the wall, okay? - Thanks. (WOMAN'S FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
GK: Gimme a martini, straight up, with a soybean, Jimmy. (JIMMY, OFF, PREPARING DRINK.). You the guy from Atlanta?
RB: How'd you know that?
GK: The stain on your jacket cuff. The combination of red clay and raspberry vinaigrette. A lucky guess.
SS (OFF): Hold it up against the wall!
GK: I am! -Look at this. That beautiful jukebox, the only one in town with Sol Hoopii and Fred MacDowell on it. Those drapes that smell of cigars. The bar- it's history.
RB: We used to have a bar called the Five Spot in Atlanta and it became a Gap.
GK: Jimmy said you were looking for me, mister.
RB: I was but I'm not anymore.
GK: Oh. Okay.
RB: I clean forgot what it was I had in mind.
GK: No problem.
RB: Anyway, what's the use?
GK: Are you almost done???
SS (OFF): Hold the tape measure still.
GK: I am! - What's the use of what?
RB: I came up here to audition for a part in a play. Worked on the part for three weeks. I'm an actor. John Bob Barrymore's the name.
GK: Pleased to meet you. (MUSIC/SAX UNDER) I was looking at the woman in the black turtleneck at the other end of the tape measure. She bent down to look at a radiator and then stood up and smiled at me and suddenly I realized that man is not that far from the jungle. (MUSIC STOP) I'm sorry. What were you saying?
RB: I was saying, I got to the audition, I opened my mouth, I spoke about ten words, and they said, "Thank you! Next!" Wouldn't even let me finish the speech, "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!"
(WOMAN'S FOOTSTEPS RETURN)
SS: Thirty-four feet and seven inches. (SHE ADDS UP SOME FIGURES IN HER HEAD, MUMBLING) You mind holding it while I measure this other way?
GK: Where?
SS: At the end of the bar -
GK: Here?
SS: Right - are you okay?
GK: Sure.
SS: You look pale.
GK: I pale easily. It's a family thing.
(WOMAN'S FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
GK: So what play were you turned down for, Tennessee Williams?
RB: No, not Williams. Shakespeare. "King Lear". I've been waiting to play King Lear all my life.
GK: Lear. Is that the one where the daughter and her husband come and live with the parents?
RB: That's Norman Lear. All in the Family. This is King Lear.
GK: Different. I see.
RB: Anyway, they turned me down flat. Like I was a rank amateur.
GK: I see.
RB: They said it was because I have an accent.
GK: Right.
RB: An accent!
GK: Uh huh.
RB: I said, "You bet I've got an accent, and lucky for you, it's Shakespeare's accent!" The Southern accent is directly descended from Elizabethan English!! Everybody knows that!! A child knows that! The way a Southerner talks is the closest thing to how people talked in 17th century England!! They didn't talk like Kenneth Branagh!! They talked like me!! If Shakespeare had met Kenneth Branagh, he would've thought he was Swedish or something! Shakespeare talked like this! That's why he wrote so juicy. Listen to this -
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!TR: Here's your martini, Guy - (SETS DOWN DRINK)
You cataracts and hurricanes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
GK: Don't interrupt. This is Shakespeare.
TR: Sorry.
GK: Go ahead, John Bob.
RB: Uhhh -
'till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks ...(GLASS BREAKAGE)
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt couriers to oak-clearing thunderbolts,
Sings my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity of the world!
Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!
GK: That's good. Great. The guy who wrote those lines didn't write 'em on double latte and bran muffins, I'll tell you that.
(FOOTSTEPS RETURN)
SS: What guy?
GK: Shakespeare.
SS: What about him?
GK: He hung out in taverns, not coffee shops.
SS: Look, mister. People don't sit in gloomy smoky bars anymore and drink martinis.
GK: Some people do!!! The romantics.
SS: More people think it's romantic to sit and drink iced cappuccino.
GK: At five bucks a bounce? Nobody I know.
SS: You know something? You're kinda cute when you're angry.
GK: You think so? Really?
RB: I mean, turning me down for King Lear because I have an accent is like turning down Michael Jordan for basketball because he's too tall! That's the point!
SS: Thanks for your help, mister. See you tomorrow, Jimmy. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
GK: You want to have a coffee when you're done with work?
(DOOR OPEN. JINGLE. CLOSE)
RB: It's like turning down Richard Petty for Daytona because he drives too fast. It's like turning down Kate Moss for underwear ads because she's too young.
GK: You know something? Actually, this might look nice as a Starbucks. I might come in here.
TR: It isn't going to happen, Guy.
GK: No?
TR: All her measurements are off by about four inches. You moved the tape. Guess your mind was on something else.
GK: I did?
TR: They're gonna come in with their paneling and their fancy tiles and counters and they're gonna go nuts.
RB: (SIGH) A guy comes a thousand miles to get thrown to the dogs. Put out to pasture. Shown the door. Given the cold shoulder. Evicted. Rejected. Mocked. Repulsed.
GK: You don't happen to know a five letter word for "snake," do you?
RB: Viper.
GK: Naw. Doesn't work. 14 across is "Venetian" - so it's got to end with a "t". "Venetian", eight-letter word meaning school or style of art.
RB: Abstract.
GK: Abstract. No, but 6 across is "furtive" -
RB: How about "elusive"?
GK: Elusive.
RB: Elusive.
GK: That might work. (THEME)
TR: A dark night in the city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions Guy Noir, Private Eye.
(MUSIC OUT)
(c) 1998 by Garrison Keillor