(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell)
(GUY NOIR THEME & SONG)
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 rainy April days when it seems like spring is just around a couple more corners. I was sitting at my desk, looking at a brochure for a cruise ship, the S.S. Bellissima, and imagining myself on it, in a white outfit, sailing the waters of Polynesia as beautiful women cluster around listening spellbound to my tales of lonely courage in the fight against crime - (PHONE RINGS, PICK UP) Yeah, Guy Noir here.
TK (ON PHONE): Is this the Home Shopping Channel?
GK: No, you got the wrong number.
TK (ON PHONE): Look, I wanna order the silk baby doll nightie with matching peekaboo robe that you were showing on the screen a moment ago.
GK: Get out of here. I've gotta get caller I.D. I swear.
(PHONE RINGS, PICK UP)
GK: Look, buddy. I don't have any feather boas!
TR (JESSE): That's okay. I got my own.
GK: Governor? How are you doing? Nice to hear from you. What's going on?
TR (JESSE): Oh, not much. Working on my memoirs.
GK: How's it going, Governor?
TR (JESSE): Oh, you know. Kind of slow.
GK: Hard work, writing a book.
TR (JESSE): Yeah, and it's due in a coupla weeks, and - gosh, I donno - it kinda needs a little - you know - some color or somethin.
GK: Some descriptive stuff.
TR (JESSE): Yeah.
GK: The change of the seasons, the leaves changing to gold and copper, the waves lapping gently at the shore as her delicate fingers unbuttoned my shirt like a small urgent animal grazing in my chest hair ... that sort of thing ...
TR (JESSE): Not so fast, I'm writing this down.
GK: Her breath as she blew in my ear sounded like distant surf and the cry of lonely dolphins ...
TR (JESSE): Beautiful. How many f's in dolphins, one or two?
GK: You know, Governor, maybe you need a ghost writer.
TR (JESSE): No, I promised myself I was gonna do it with no help. A Navy Seal goes it alone. I say, "If you're smart enough to get a book contract, you ought to be smart enough to write the book."
GK: So what can I do for you?
TR (JESSE): I need a place to get away. A place where I can unplug the phone and get this book written.
GK: Got a place right here for you, Governor.
TR (JESSE): Rest assured, I'll be glad to pay.
GK: You just come over, Governor, and I'll make sure the phone is unplugged. (MUSIC BRIDGE) - He arrived about half an hour later, wearing black leather pants, a helmet with horns, and a T- shirt that said, "I've Got My Foot In My Mouth and I Like the Taste ". And carrying a briefcase. It was full of paper tablets and crayons. I got him settled at the desk and headed over to the Five Spot. (MUSIC) (DOOR. JINGLE. FOOTSTEPS)
TR (JIMMY): Hey, Guy. How's it going?
GK: Oh, not so bad, Jimmy. How's it with you?
TR (JIMMY): Oh, about the same. Got a letter from Wanda, my ex- wife.
GK: Really? I didn't know you'd been married.
TR (JIMMY): Yeah. Met her fifteen years ago today at a spring dance at the Town & Country club.
GK: Is that right?
TR (JIMMY): She was standing on the patio in a white sleeveless dress, smoking a cigarette, and there was the aroma of lilacs in the air and new-mown grass.
GK: And that was it, huh? And you fell in love and what happened then?
TR (JIMMY): We got married in front of about six guests and flew to Florida and spent our honeymoon at Disney World, and somehow the marriage wasn't quite as good as the rides.
GK: Yeah -
TR (JIMMY): Here's your screwdriver. -
SS: Excuse me, sir. (SEXY SAX)
GK: I turned around and there was a beautiful redhead in a tight black dress that gave new meaning to the word "va va va voom." - What can I do for you, ma'am?
SS: Are you Guy Noir, the private eye?
GK: I am, but if you want me to be somebody else, I can give it a shot.
SS: My name is Honey Swanson, Mr. Noir, and I'm an advertising copywriter. I've got a big problem.
GK: Sit down and tell me about it, Honey, and if the bar stool's not comfortable, feel free to try my lap.
SS: I need something and I can't think of the word for it.
GK: Soul mate. Paramour. Gigolo. Inamorata.
SS: No, it's a writing problem, Mr. Noir. I write catalogue copy. Like - "Our shimmering silky flip skirt will make you the belle of the ball, especially topped off with our oh-so-naughty lace tee, festooned with hand embroidered butterflies."
GK: You're a poet, Honey.
SS: But I can't write anymore, Mr. Noir. This morning I sweated for three hours and this is what I came up with. Look.
GK (READING): "Try our dress. It's red."
SS: See? I'm lost without - without - I can't even think of the word for it.
GK: Fiancee.
SS: No, it's a book. A book with all kinds of words. Like different synonyms -
GK: A thesaurus.
SS: Yes! Yes! Oh thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.
GK: You're welcome.
SS: You saved my life. You rescued me.
GK: No, I only bolstered, or propped up. Assisted. Gave a helping hand.
SS: Whatever. Thank you. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY. DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE)
GK: I was kind of hoping her problem'd be more complicated than that. Something a guy could spend time on.
TR (JIMMY): She's too young for you - you just missed out on a truckload of heartbreak, Guy.
GK: I've been hoping to walk off that cliff, Jimmy. It's been years.
TR (JIMMY): Take it from me, you ain't missing nothing. I know. I'm a bartender. Nine out of ten guys who come in here trying to forget, it ain't about a thesaurus, let me tell you.
GK: It's spring, Jimmy. I wanta smell the flowers and I wanta smell the perfume of the woman standing next to me whose delicate fingers are unbuttoning my shirt like a small urgent animal grazing in my chest hair. --- Which reminds me. I got a client I gotta check up on. (MUSIC)
TR (JESSE): Oh. Hi, Guy.
GK: How's the memoir coming, Governor?
TR (JESSE): Coming along pretty darn good. Wrote about two hundred words since you left.
GK: That's good.
TR (JESSE): You wanna hear some of it?
GK: I'd love to.
TR (JESSE): Tell me what you think. Gimme your honest opinion, okay?
GK: You got it.
TR (JESSE, READING): A big fist pounded on the door. "It's open," I snapped. The door swung open and the media charged in, their microphones aimed at me like accusing fingers. In less time than it takes to tell about it, I whipped out my concealed weapon. "Grab some clouds, gentlemen," I said. One of them raised his video cam and I kicked it out of his hands so it bounced off the ceiling and broke into a dozen or more pieces, I didn't bother to count. The blonde began to cry softly, clinging to my arm. "Don't cry, doll," I said. She gave me a look you could have poured it on your waffles. Rain beat hard against the windows. I heard tires squeal in the distance and the whistle of a train. "Get your coat," I said softly. "That's the Empire Builder. We'll let these clowns worry about tax bills - you and me, doll, in two days we'll be in California."
GK: Is that it?
TR (JESSE): What do you think, Guy? Do you think it's too long?
GK: No, I think it's beautiful.
TR (JESSE): I was just getting to the part about the small urgent animal grazing in my chest hair -
GK: Well, don't let me get in the way of the muse, Governor. Write while the iron is hot, I say. (THEME)
SS: 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) 1999 by Garrison Keillor