(GK: Garrison Keillor, TR: Tim Russell, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but one man keeps trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions. Guy Noir, Private Eye. With Tim Russell as Brent Bracket, Tom Keith as the Ham Man, and Sue Scott as Namu Shalama and Mrs. Bixby.
(THEME UP AND OUT)
GK: It was one of those moody days in mid-April. Too nice to be indoors, not nice enough to stay out. I felt like heading south and looking for spring. Looked at my stock portfolio and found I had enough dough to get to Moline, Illinois, on a Greyhound bus. Decided to sit tight for awhile. Wait until I could make it to Carbondale. (PHONE RING, PICK UP) Yeah? Guy Noir here.
TK: Is this Emeril LaGasse?
GK: No, it's Noir. Guy Noir.
TK: You're not LaGasse?
GK: Only when I eat bean burritos.
TK: Maybe you can help me anyway. I'm trying to figure out how to cook a ham.
GK: A ham.
TK: For Easter.
GK: Right. Is this a ham you bought in a store?
TK: Yes, it is.
GK: Look at the wrapper. Does it have cooking instructions on it?
TK: Where?
GK: On the wrapper.
TK: Where it says "Pre-Cooked"?
GK: Right around there in that vicinity. Aren't there instructions for cooking? Preheat oven to 250, place in pan, something like that?.
TK: Oh. Right. Now I see it. Thanks. Do you recommend the Dijon and pineapple or the beer basted ham stuffed with marshmallow?
GK:Try half one way and half the other. (BRIDGE) A private eye gets a lot of calls like that, especially in the spring. Once the challenge of keeping your sidewalk shoveled is gone, people in St. Paul seem to lose focus.
SS (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir, it's my husband! He keeps wandering away from home.
GK: It's spring, ma'am.
SS (ON PHONE): It is?
GK: Warm weather. Man loses his sense of purpose.
SS (ON PHONE): I have to go chase him and bring him back. And he's confused.
GK: How so?
SS (ON PHONE): He's been speaking Swedish.
GK: And he's not Swedish?
SS (ON PHONE): Wasn't when I married him.
GK: Put him on.
TR (ON PHONE): (SWEDISH)
GK: Go lie down, sir. Lie down and take your pills.
SS (ON PHONE): See what I mean?
GK: It's a repressed prenatal memory. Probably triggered by the loss of snow. It'll pass eventually. (BRIDGE) I sat in the office all afternoon and those were the only telephone calls.
GK: (BRIDGE) I headed over to the Five Spot, thinking maybe I should trade in the shamus job for something in talk radio. (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS)
TR (JIMMY): Hey, Guy. How's it going?
GK: Ah, about the same, Jimmy. About the same.
TR (JIMMY): Easter bunny leave anything for you?
GK: Yeah, but I cleaned it up right away with a disinfectant. How's it with you?
TR (JIMMY): Great. Terrific. Everything's beautiful. I got a girlfriend now.
GK: Oh, really?
TR (JIMMY): She's taking me to church for Easter. She's Unitarian.
GK: I see. Well, that'll be a change of pace for you.
TR (JIMMY): What do Unitarians do for Easter, Guy?
GK: I donno. Talk about spring and new life and the sense of wonder in each of our lives, I guess, and try not to mention You Know Who.
SS (OLD LADY): What about Easter? Ain't no such thing if you ask me!
GK: Who's she?
TR (JIMMY): The name's Bixby. Mrs. Bixby. Been here since about two.
GK: You don't care for Easter, ma'am?
SS (OLD LADY): Ain't no such thing as Easter! Easter's when you dress up and go to church. You see people dressed up anymore? I don't! Time was, you'd go out and buy yourself an Easter outfit. Nice pale lavender coat, and a green and yellow dress and white shoes and gloves and a straw hat with a brim and a pink ribbon around it and spritz some Eau de Lilac on you and get your nice white Bible out of the plastic and go to church.
GK: Sounds lovely.
SS (OLD LADY): You go in a get-up like that now and you'd feel like an alien from outer space. Everybody else is in jeans and a little t-shirt and their bellybutton showing.
GK: Well, times change. People don't dress up so much anymore, ever since Liberace died. The forces of understatement sort of got the upper hand.
SS (OLD LADY): What are you doing for Easter, sonny?
GK: Probably head down University Avenue, the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, to the Acme Cafeteria for the Early Bird Buffet, I guess. Have the Senior Citizen Special and read about the rich and glamorous in Vanity Fair.
SS (OLD LADY): You care to make it a twosome?
GK: I don't like to have someone watch when I'm eating mashed potatoes and gravy. I get carried away sometimes. Sometimes I get gravy in my hair.
SS (OLD LADY): I could take off my bifocals and put on my reading glasses.
GK: You could.
SS (OLD LADY): And afterward we could go dancing. Back at my place. The old tunes. Moonlight Serenade. Tuxedo Junction. Every year my Easter prayer request has been that Glenn Miller's plane come back safe and sound. I still haven't given up hope. (BRIDGE)
GK: She looked to be about 70, 75, and the jaw line was no longer a line, it was only a vague concept, and yet there was a sparkle in the old dame. In dim light, with the right medication, it could be magic. ---- I went back to the office to dig out some old Sol Hoopii 45s (RUMMAGING) --- I think she'd like those ---- I know they're around here someplace (PHONE RING) ---- Darn. If it's that ham guy again ----- (PHONE RING) ----- (HE SIGHS) (PICK UP) Yeah. Noir here.
TR (ON PHONE): Noir? This is Brent Brackett, with Channel Five News About You----
GK: Oh right. The newscast with the big cooking segment and the tips on skin care.
TR (ON PHONE): News About You, right.
GK: And you're one of the anchors, right?
TR (ON PHONE): Right. I'm the fairly-bright male Caucasian with outstanding hair and I'm teamed up with the beautiful minority woman with the slightly sardonic eyes.
GK: Sounds like a team.
TR (ON PHONE): Listen---- I'm out here at the Champion Chicken Hatchery doing a live remote for Easter and I have to go on the air in about ten minutes and I'm in a terrible predicament.
GK: What's that, Mr. Brackett?
TR (ON PHONE): I forgot to put my pants on.
GK: I see.
TR (ON PHONE): In the studio, behind the desk, I never bother with pants. But here at the hatchery, I'm going to be standing in the barn or whatever it's called and I'll have all these little chicks around my ankles and---- and from the waist down I'm afraid I'm completely naked.
GK: You want me to bring you a pair of pants.
TR (ON PHONE): Please. And please hurry! (BRIDGE)
GK: I got in my old Nash Rambler (CAR ENGINE, RUNNING ROUGH) and raced north toward the chicken hatchery, stopping at Gary's Pants Warehouse on the freeway ---- I went to the Drive-Up Window----
TK (ON SPEAKERPHONE): Welcome to Gary's Warehouse. What can I get for you?
GK: Pair of pale lavender pants, a 28-waist and a 34-inseam. With pleats.
TK (ON SPEAKERPHONE): Pale lavender plants with pleats. One Elton John Special coming right up.
GK: Thanks. Here. Keep the change. (SCREECH OF TIRES) (BRIDGE) The hatchery is north of St. Paul, near Anoka, and down a long gravel road, I could see the big Channel Five News About You remote truck with its fifty-foot extension antenna. (BRAKES) I got out and I just followed the cable (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL) down a long path toward a long steel shed with big ventilators on top and through the door (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE) (CHICKENS. FAST FOOTSTEPS) ---- outta my way.....excuse me......outta the way (CHICKEN FLURRY) ----- delivery man......watch your tail (CHICKEN FLURRY) ----- and finally there was a man in a handsome yellow buttondown shirt and striped tie and perfectly coiffed hair and no pants.
TR (BRENT): Thanks so much, Mr. Farr.
GK: Noir.
TR (BRENT): Right. Thanks. Appreciate your coming so fast. (HE STRAINS) Pants are a little tight. (SFX, PANTS BEING EASED ON, STRETCHED) Kinda small in the waist and the seat.
GK: Well, you always looked so slender on the screen.
TR (BRENT): (STRAINING) Maybe you need to adjust your horizontal hold. (STRAINING, MORE SFX OF PANTS) There. Got em up.
TK (OFF): Hey you! Out of the shot!
GK: Who? Me?
TK (OFF): You. Out of the shot.
GK: Sorry. Sorry. (QUICK FOOTSTEPS)
TK: Twenty seconds. Zip up your pants, Brent.....
TR (BRENT): What?
TK: Your barn doors are open!
TR (BRENT): The pants are too tight, I can't zip em.
TK: Here. (CHICKEN) Hold this chicken in front of it.
TR (BRENT): I don't care for chickens..... (CHICKEN)
TK (OFF): In 5....4.....3.....2.....and.....
TR (BRENT): Brent Brackett here at Champion Chicken Hatchery where the meaning of Easter TRuly is ---- "New Life" ----- (CHICKEN) yes, thanks to modern hormones that rev up a chicken's ovaries and computer-controlled assembly-line insemination of eggs, Champion is able to turn out about 500,000 chicks per day. (CHICKEN) And thanks to genetic engineering, these chicks are hardier ---- more disease- resistant ---- and they don't mind spending their lives in a cage the size of a lunch box. And they're all female. (CHICKEN) And when they reach the end of their sixty-day life cycle, they'll have a breast that's exactly sixteen ounces ---- and rectangular. Yes, it's a new era in chicken production and the result? Chicken products that you and your family want. Nobody cares for chicken livers so these chickens are bred to be liver-less ----- that's why they have those little tubes attached to their rear ends ---- and nobody cares for the wings either so these---- (CHICKEN FLYING, FLURRY) ----- hey, get off me----- (CHICKEN FLURRY) ----- get away from me ---- (BRENT FIGHTS THE BIRD WHO IS IN HIS FACE) ----- hey, how about a little help---- what the hell is going on here----- (CHICKEN PECKS AT HIM) get this stupid chicken out of my---- (A BIG LONG FABRIC RIP)----- Oh no. (ANOTHER RIP) Close-up on me, Charley. (A LONGER RIP) This is Brent Brackett, News About You, back to you, Monique. (PAUSE) (TR SHOUT OF DISGUST) What is wrong with you people? You can't help a guy out when a chicken comes right at my face and my pants fall off? Huh? Where's the teamwork?? (FOOTSTEPS, FADING) Where's the teamwork, guys? (FADING) I'm going to my trailer. (DOOR SLAM, OFF)
GK: Excuse me. I'm the guy who brought the pants.
TK: Yeah? Whaddabout em?
GK: I paid fifteen bucks for them.
TK: So?
GK: You want the receipt?
TK: Why would I want that?
GK: I'd like my money back.
TK: Join the club.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
SS: What's the problem, Charley?
TK: This guy wants some money, Namu.
SS: For what?
GK: Brent's pants, ma'am.
SS: Oh? (SEXY SAX) (BRIDGE)
GK: She turned toward me and her face was so perfect and beautiful, suddenly I could see what moisturizing can do. Round the clock moisturizing and a good diet and exercise and regular plastic surgery.
SS: I'm Namu Shalama, I'm Channel Five's public relations person.
We need you to leave, sir. You're upsetting the chicks.
GK: The story of my life. The name's Noir, ma'am.
SS: Channel Five is giving away Easter chicks to small children. It's a promotion, Noir. We've already given away half a million of them.
GK: How generous of you.
SS: Half a million chicks ---- all of them incubated by a TV screen with the numeral 5 on it.
GK: Hatched by the heat of a TV screen---- (CHICKEN)
SS: Half a million chicks who think of television as their mother.
GK: Who've bonded with the numeral 5.
SS: You got it. Half a million chicks in half a million homes, and whenever they see a TV they'll turn it on and peck the Channel 5 button on the remote.
GK: Ingenious. (CHICKEN)
SS: By the time the big ratings week comes around in May, our numbers will be through the roof.
GK: And the chicks?
SS: The average Easter chick lasts for about a month. Then the cat eats it, or somebody steps on it. (CHICKEN)
GK: You breed em, you exploit em, and then they go to the big chicken salad in the sky, huh.
SS: You got it. And by June, the price of our stock will be spiking around 40, 42, and we'll sell the station to a big conglomerate and walk away with a truckload of dough. (CHICKEN)
GK: You've thought of everything, Miss Shalama.
SS: You're right.
GK: Except for one thing.
SS: What's that?
GK: These aren't television chickens. These are radio chickens. (CHICKEN)
SS: I don't know what you mean.
GK: It's simple. You can't see them.
SS: Of course you can see them, Why, they're ---- they're------
GK: They're imaginary, Miss Shalama. (CHICKEN) That man over there is making the sounds with his mouth.
SS: But----
GK: Our radio audience can see them but you and I can't. And so there's no way these chickens are hitting Channel 5 on the remote control.
SS: Why, you----
GK: Drop the pistol, Miss Shalama, or I'll have to----- (SS CRY OF PAIN)----- (PISTOL DROPS TO FLOOR) ----- Good try, Miss Shalama. Or should I say, Miss Schultz?
SS: Nuts to you, Noir. Why don't you just butt out and mind your own beeswax?
GK: Sandra Schultz. There's only so much that plastic surgery can do, Sandra. I thought I recognized that glint in your eye.
SS: Get your hands off me, gumshoe.
GK: A public radio development director who went bad. Everybody knows about you, Sandra. Like a lot of women who get a little too good at fund-raising, you turned toward a life of crime. But maybe a couple years in the Big House will give you a chance to rethink things.
SS: Ha! What makes you think I won't make a run for it???
GK: Come off it, Sandra. You've had your face lifted so many times, there's nothing left in your shoes.
SS: Get your hands off me! (BRIDGE)
GK: I drove the Nash Rambler back downtown and stopped in at the Five Spot to see if the old lady was still there......(DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS)
TR (JIMMY): Oh, hey. Guy. How's it going?
GK: Not so bad, Jimmy. Where's Mrs. Bixby?
TR (JIMMY): She went to the little girl's room.
GK: She's gonna need a time machine for that.
TR (JIMMY): I tell you, she's quite a dame. Been giving that jukebox a run for its money. I've heard everything Glenn Miller ever recorded at least twice.
GK: How about we try some Chet Atkins instead? (FOOTSTEPS. COIN IN THE SLOT. JUKEBOX MECHANISM. SCRATCH OF NEEDLE. PAT D. & ALL PLAY A CHET VERSION OF EASTER PARADE) Nothing like the old Country Gentleman.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
SS (OLD LADY): Why, if it isn't my knight in shining armor----
GK: Ha. Only armor here is the ham in my ham sandwich.
SS (OLD LADY): Well, you look mighty good to me.
GK: Thank goodness for poor eyesight.
SS (OLD LADY): You care to dance?
GK: I'd love to.
(SOME SLIGHT SHUFFLING)
SS (OLD LADY): You're a lovely dancer. You lead very well.
GK: I'm leading? I thought you were leading.
GK: Jimmy, how about some champagne?
TR (JIMMY): (OFF) Coming right up.
SS (OLD LADY): You make me feel young, sonny.
GK: Good. How old are you?
SS (OLD LADY): Thirty-seven.
GK: Thirty-seven!
SS (OLD LADY): You thought I was older?
GK: I did.
SS (OLD LADY): Well, I've been teaching eighth grade for fifteen years.
GK: Well, there you are.
SS (OLD LADY): You ever teach eighth grade. It ages a person, you know.
GK: I can imagine.
(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) 2001 by Garrison Keillor