(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell, RD: Rich Dworsky)
Tonight's show brought to you by Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie and frozen rhubarb pie filling.
It was a terrible day at the office, people going off to committee meetings (MARCHING FEET), marketing people yelling at each other (CRIES OF ANGER), the hallways barricaded and people lobbing sweet rolls back and forth (CRIES AND SOME SPLATS AND SQUISHES), and then the commute home on the subway (TK TINNY VOICE: Watch the closing doors. SULLEN MUTTERING OF SQUEEZED PEOPLE), and you perspiring (DRIPS) with people packed in around you (SS NY: You mind getting your elbow out of my face? Hello!) and you come home (TR: Hi, honey! DOOR CLOSE) and you do your exercise (POP TOP CAN) and flop on the couch (WEARY SIGH) and turn on the TV (TV AUDIO, TALK) and then you see the ad for that sport utility vehicle (TR: Oh my gosh, look at that....) (BIG MUSIC, HEROIC, TECHNO, ETHEREAL), there it is cruising along the beach (SURF), climbing sheer granite cliffs (GULLS) and going over mountains (WIND AT SUMMIT) and running with herds of elands on the Serengeti plain (THUNDERING HOOVES) and at the wheel a tall blonde in a thong bikini (SS: Wheeeeeeeeeee), and you look at the commercial and you just got to have that car. (TR: Gotta have it, gotta have it, gotta have it.) No way around it, you got to have it (TR: Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta), so you tell your wife (TR: I'm just not finding the personal fulfillment I need at Watson Wastebasket Ink, Gloria, I need to move on. SS WIFE: My hero.) and you quit (TR: Goodbye....suckers! DOOR SLAM) and you write up a remarkable new resume (TYPING) in which you let your imagination run wild (TR TO HIMSELF, TYPING: Introduced new software for venture capital startups to increase vertical integration strategy--) and somehow it works (TR: I can't believe it!!), it works and you get a terrific job offer (TR, DISBELIEVING: Vice-president??? Me???? SOBS) and your wife is so proud (SS: My hero!!) and your son is a little upset (TK TEEN: But I'd be captain of the baseball team next year!!) but off you go, the moving truck comes (BACKING, BEEPING) and you move to your new house in Westchester (SS STUNNED WONDER), a big white frame New England type of house like you see in TV holiday specials (TR, PROUDLY: That's our home, honey. SS: Our home!) and you move in and suddenly everything is beautiful (SS: How do you like the potpourri dishes in the bedroom, honey? I made them to match the duvet covers....), there's no more subway for you, everything is so incredibly elegant (SS: I've poached a sea bass for dinner and made a turtle bisque. The Peabodies are coming, and the Whipples. The wine is a 1988 Pouilly-Fuisse.), life is exactly perfect except for your son.....(TK TEEN: I hate you. I hate everybody. Hate this house.), he's gone bad, he used to be a good boy and now he's shaved his head and he's wearing pink feather boas to school (SS SOBBING) and his mother is upset and you're upset (TR: Please. I'm a vice-president now. What if someone should see you like this?) and he just sneers at you (TK TEEN: I hope everyone sees me like this!) and he rips holes in his pants (RIPS) and puts a couple more rings in his nose (POPS) and he says something to you so vulgar and ugly (TK: I BEEP you Dad and I BEEP hope you BEEP know that I BEEP you, Dad!) and he's out until two, three in the morning, you have to call in dogs (HUNTING DOGS) to go find him, the National Guard comes to search (CHOPPER), and it's just non-stop heartache and (SS WEEPING) your wife is all broken up and suddenly it's his seventeenth birthday and she decides to go all out (SS WEEPY: Maybe he doesn't realize how much we love him!) and she hires a troupe of elephants (ELEPHANT) and an honor guard (MARCHING FEET) and the Blue Angels for a flyover in tight formation (JETS FLYOVER) and she also bakes a fabulous chocolate cake (TR AWED INTAKE OF BREATH: Wow. Pure chocolate. Five feet high. SS: I did it for him....our son....as a token of my love. TR: It's the most fabulous cake I've ever seen. SS: I'm going to bed now. So I can wake up early and fix his breakfast. SS YAWNS) And you stay up thinking about things and late that night (CLOCK STRIKES TWO), you sneak into the kitchen to look at it. (TR: Oh wow.) and you reach out to taste a little tiny smidgen of frosting, but (TR LOSES BALANCE) you lose your balance and you fall and you (SMOOSH OF CAKE) land on the cake and you (SMOOSH) smash it into a mound of chocolate on the floor (TR GUILT), you've ruined everything, all your wife's hard work (TR GUILT), and you race to try to replace it.....you get out dozens of eggs and break them into a bowl (BREAKING OF EGGS, RAPID-FIRE) and you toss in milk (POURING) and flour (RUSH OF FLOUR) and sugar (RUSH OF SUGAR) and you whip it up (HIGH PITCHED MIXER WHINE) and you fire up the oven (FLAMES BURSTING) and you shove the cake in (WHOOSH, SLAM OF DOOR) and you start to worry (TR: It's not gonna be good enough. She's gonna know.) and just in case it doesn't turn out (DIAL PHONE), you call up the best baker in town (TK ON PHONE, FRENCH) and you tell him what you want (TR: Chocolate cake! Five feet tall! Price no object! TK FRENCH DISBELIEF: Impossible! TR: I'll pick it up in fifteen minutes!) and you hop in your car (CAR ACCELERATES) and you race across town and onto the freeway (TRUCKS HONK, PASSING) and you dash to the baker's (BRAKES, DOOR OPEN, FAST FOOTSTEPS) and you take the cake ---- (TR: Thanks! TK FRENCH GIBBERISH FADING. CAR ACCEL) and you race home to find your wife and son on the front lawn (SIREN) watching your house go up in flames. (TR: Uh oh. The oven.) (FIREMEN YELLING, FIRE HOSE) Now. Think hard. (TR: Did I or did I not send in that insurance check?) (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) 1999 by Garrison Keillor