(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott: TR: Tim Russell, TK:Tom Keith; RD: Rich Dworsky)
(BACH, PIANO)
SS: Is this Bach?
GK: Yes.
SS: Are you sure?
GK: Yes.
SS: It sure sounds like Bach.
GK: That's because it is Bach.
SS: We used to like going to concerts and listening to Bach, didn't we.
GK: Yes.
SS: Why don't we go to concerts anymore?
GK: We have small children.
SS: We could get a babysitter.
GK: Doesn't matter. You realize what our bedtime is now? It's about eight thirty. Every night. Eight thirty. My eyes get heavy, I start to drool.
SS: It's tiring being around little kids.
GK: Tell me about it.
SS: I don't know where they get the stamina. They're like goats. All day long, bouncing off the walls and they never slow down.
GK: Remember when we tried to make them take naps? What a joke.
SS: And now every week they bring home a new virus from nursery school. They get over it in about twenty-four hours and we're sick as dogs for about ten days.
GK: You remember when we used to go out for dinner at 8?
SS: I remember.
GK: Now that's when I start to think about going to bed.
SS: I don't think I've had a good night's sleep in about four years.
GK: Four years of sleep deprivation.
SS: We're like prisoners of war.
GK: The nights when they don't climb into bed with us, I wake up in a cold sweat dreaming that somebody drowned or fell out the window or the babysitter packed them in the car and took them riding around town so she could find a crack dealer.
SS: It's constant paranoia----
GK: It is. Paranoia and jet lag.
SS: Do you ever wish we hadn't had kids?
GK: No, of course not.
SS: Do you?
GK: No.
SS: You can tell me. It's all right.
GK: I don't.
SS: Sure, you do. I know you do.
GK: Well, if you know I do, then why do you ask?
SS: You wish we didn't have kids. Admit it. Sometimes you do.
GK: Don't be silly. What would we do without kids? (BIG PIANO GLISS, INTO TANGO) O you gorgeous woman-----
SS: Hold me, thrill me----
GK: My darling------
SS: It's not even twelve. The night is young. Dance, gypsy, dance!
GK: You intoxicate me.
SS: I know.
GK: You intoxicate me. You drive me mad with desire.
SS: I know.
GK: You know you do. I throw it all away for you----
SS: Tell me what you want!
GK: I want to make you happy!
SS: But tell me what you want!
GK: I want to take you to the pinnacle of pleasure!
SS: But what about you, my beloved? What do you want?
GK: It's enough for me that you experience the ultimate joy.
SS: But what can I give you, beloved? (TANGO ENDS)
GK: I'd like to have small children who crawl into bed with me around two in the morning and then throw up. I'd like to have little kids who only eat food that is white and who love to walk into the room and scream. I'd like to have little kids who make getting dressed in the morning into a World Wrestling Federation event. I'd like to be so exhausted that the thought of having sex is like the thought of a seven-foot high jump.
SS: Okay. Sounds good. Let's do it. (PIANO, CHOPIN) You sure this is Bach?
GK: No, it's Chopin.
SS: He had kids, right?
GK: Chopin? No.
SS: I thought he had twenty-three of them.
GK: No, that was Bach. Chopin was a single guy. He wore mascara. He went around giving piano recitals in big drafty palaces with his big black cape wrapped around him playing these big etudes and grand waltzes and nocturnes and a thousand candles burning and he'd cough blood into a hanky and keep playing and women threw themselves at his feet and he'd spend the night and write a little etude for them and then head off to Rome or Vienna or Berlin.
SS: No kids?
GK: No.
SS: Why didn't we do that?
GK: Our nocturnes weren't good enough.
SS: You're not sorry we decided to have kids?
GK: No, no. It was the romantic thing to do. All those big nocturnes ---- they're all about throwing yourself over the edge and accepting fate. And what do you know about fate if you don't have kids?
SS: Do you remember when we first talked about getting married and having kids?
GK: Of course.
SS: Do you?
GK: Sure I do.
SS: You sure?
GK: Yes.
SS: I asked you once and you thought it was in London but I was never in London with you. London was where you went with that other one. What's her name. The one with the hair.
GK: Okay, okay----
SS: We were in Venice. It was September. I was there on that art fellowship and you came over to see me and I was thinking about maybe staying for an extra year and you said, Fine, that's okay, and I went with you to the train station and we stood there on the platform talking and I said, "I could imagine going back to America if there were something to go back for," and you said, "What does that mean?" and I said, "You know what I mean," and you said, "What do you want?" and I said, "What do you want?" and what did you say?
GK: I said, I want two little kids to come into our bed at three a.m. and wet the bed and throw up.
SS: Actually, no.
GK: Well, it's what I meant to say.
SS: You know something? I'm really tired.
GK: So am I.
SS: I'm going to turn out my light.
GK: So am I.
SS: You don't mind if I just go to sleep? (PAUSE) I say, you don't mind if I just go to sleep? (PAUSE) Are you awake? (PAUSE) Good night.
(MUSIC BUTTON)
© Garrison Keillor 2002