(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott: TR: Tim Russell, TK:Tom Keith; RD: Rich Dworsky)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
SS: 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.
GK: It was one of those bitter cold winter days when it suddenly dawns on you why all those people left town. It wasn't that the Twins were losing. I stuffed some old newspapers under my coat and headed for the office ---- (CAR STARTER) The car was dead, so I had to take the bus (BUS AIRBRAKE) ---- (ENGINE)---- where I met a guy who thought I was Donald Rumsfeld
TK (DRUNK): You're doing a great job, you know that. I want to shake your hand. (BRIDGE)
GK: And I got to the office about 11 and called over to Danny's Deli for a ham salad sandwich.
TK (WENDELL, ON PHONE): You want that on pumpernickel or rye, Mr. Noir?
GK: I'd like it on white bread. And hold the lettuce.
TK (WENDELL): Okay, but if I do, it's going to wilt. How about a pickle with that?
GK: No, thanks. (MUSIC) I had three messages on voice mail, none of them what you'd call a day-brightener. (BEEP)
TR (ON PHONE): It's your stockbroker, Todd, Mr. Noir. Your 500 shares of Federated Plunder ---- do you want us to discard those or would you like them for scratch paper or something? (BEEP)
SS (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir, It's Sandy, at the diner. We have reason to suspect that the pork loaf dinner you ate last night may have contained toilet bowl cleanser. Are you experiencing numbness or stiffness in your extremities this morning? (BEEP)
TK (ON PHONE): (DRUNK) I still think you're doing a heck of a job. I take off my hat to you, sir. (BEEP)
GK: I was about to head over to Danny's when (KNOCKS ON DOOR) ---- yeah, come in, the door's open. (DOOR OPEN. FOOTSTEPS. CLOSE. SEXY SAX) She was wearing a UPS uniform and what a parcel she was. Not even khaki work clothes could dim her splendor. Her long blonde hair had a gloss to it that could only have come from a diet of peeled grapes and nasturtium blossoms. Her dark eyes spoke a language all their own, a language they don't teach at church schools.
SS: Package for Mr. Noir?
GK: Which package you referring to?
SS: This big brown box.
GK: I was afraid of that. What's in it?
SS: It's from Peninsula Clothing.
GK: Oh.
SS: Sign here. (SCRAWL)
GK: I suppose it's the vacation outfit I ordered. I figured if I couldn't take a vacation, at least I could wear the clothes I would've worn if I had.
SS: Wear them in good health, Mr. Noir. (FOOTSTEPS)
GK: You wouldn't care to wait around to see if they fit?
SS: Sorry. I'm running behind. (DOOR CLOSE)
GK: If she'd been running behind me, I would've slowed down. (MUSIC) It was a polo shirt, Sangria, I guess it's called --- and a pair of lime green jogging pants. I put them on and it was such a relief to get into something with an elastic waistband. ---- I was about to head over Danny's Deli for the sandwich when (PHONE RING, PICK UP) ----- Yeah, Noir here.
TR: Mr. Noir, it's Biff Quigley and I'm in town with a public radio convention. A group called Lovers of Intensely Quiet Uninterrupted Overseas Radio. L.I.Q.U.O.R.
GK: Yeah---
TR: We're meeting over at the Comatose Suites.
GK: The new luxury hotel, right?
TR: That's it. The towels are so fluffy, you can hardly close your suitcase.
GK: So what do the Lovers of Intensely Quiet Uninterrupted Overseas Radio do at their convention?
TR: We're all big devotees of the BBC World Service and we like to get together and play our favorite tapes of the show from over the years ---- today, for example, we were listening to a report on the breeding habits of the halibut.
GK: I see.
TR: The problem is that there's this big jerk who's angry about pledge week and he keeps coming in and yelling at us.
GK: Angry about pledge week? Does the guy not understand what the tuning knob is for?
TR: Can you handle it for us, Mr. Noir?
GK: I'll be over as soon as I pick up a sandwich. (BRIDGE)
TK (WENDELL): We were out of ham salad, Mr. Noir, so we substituted pimento loaf instead.
GK: Pimento loaf!
TK (WENDELL): We had a big run on ham salad.
GK: I'd rather eat dog food!
TK (WENDELL): Trailblazer or Ken-L-Ration?
GK: Never mind. (BRIDGE) I went over to the Comatose Suites and found the L.I.Q.U.O.R. convention meeting in a long dark room with quilts hanging on the walls. They were pale plump people, with little squinty eyes, like they didn't spend any more time in the sun than absolutely necessary.
TR: Mr. Noir? I'm Biff Quigley of the Lovers of Intensely Quiet Uninterrupted Overseas Radio. And this is Eunice Soffit of P.R.I.M.L.Y., the Public Radio International Music Listeners Yearbook.
SS: Pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure.
GK: So you folks get together to talk about public radio, I take it.
TR: We like to compare our listening diaries and play our favorite tapes. I tend to go for reports on wildlife and Eunice is partial to medieval instruments such as the sackbut and rebec. And to modern Egyptian fiction.
SS: I'm just curious, what color shirt is that, Mr. Noir?
GK: This? It's sangria, I believe.
SS: Oh. I would've said maroon. Or burgundy.
GK: So your two organizations are here in convention.
SS: Plus the Foreign Accent Radio Talk Society.
GK: The F.A.R.T.S. I see.
TR: These are people who keep a lifetime list of all the foreign accents they've heard on the radio.
GK: Interesting.
TR: They're part of the People's Organization for
Optimal Programming.
GK: Well of course. Makes sense. So this guy who's bothering you---(POUNDING ON DOOR. TK MUFFLED YELLS: Hey! I'm sick of your pledge week drives! You hear me! I can't take it anymore.)
TR: There he is now.
GK: Excuse me a moment.(FOOTSTEPS) Hey! Quit pounding on the door! There's a meeting going on in here! (OPENS DOOR)
TK: Listen to me, you idiot ---- I've taken about all I can take. (HE SWINGS. THEY STRUGGLE)---
GK: Who are you? what is this---
TK: I'm sick of your membership drives!---- (HE SWINGS. GK OOF. STRUGGLE) They go on and on and on and on! I'm sick of it! You hear me?? I can't take any more!!!
GK: Just because you don't care for membership week doesn't give you the right to hit people. I think maybe you missed school when they had the unit on manners, mister --- (HE SWINGS. TK OOF. (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS)
GK: Stop! (CHASE)
(TWO SETS OF RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, DOOR SFX, ETC.)
(DOWN HALL)
(THROUGH DOOR)
(UP STAIRS)
(THROUGH SLIDING DOOR)
(DOWN SHORT HALL)
(THROUGH DOOR)
(ACROSS GRAVEL)
(THROUGH MUD PUDDLE)
(THROUGH DOOR)
(ONE SET OF FOOTSTEPS SLOWS, STOPS.) (MUSIC)
GK: The guy was too fast for me. I was winded. I walked back to the room where the public radio people were meeting.
TR: So you came up empty-handed, I see.
GK: He got away. But we'll get him next time.
SS: It's making our members extremely jittery.
GK: I can imagine.
TR: It makes it very difficult to listen to a report on the migration of the scarlet tanager knowing that any minute somebody may start yelling at you----
GK: Well, we'll get to the bottom of it.
SS: Do you really think that maroon goes with avocado, Mr. Noir?
GK: If you're referring to my pants, these are not avocado, they're Lime Green.
SS: Nonetheless, they don't go with a maroon shirt.
GK: It's Sangria, actually. The shirt is Sangria.
SS: When I saw you come in, I immediately assumed you were a colorblind homeless person.
GK: Well, I'm sorry you don't like the combination----(POUNDING ON DOOR, DOG BARKING) Somebody is having a hard time taking a hint. (FOOTSTEPS, OPENS DOOR) Get out of here. Leave these people alone.
(DOG SNARLING)
TK: You good for nothing broadcasters. Think you can foist your fund-raising on everybody. Git im, Blackie. (DOG SNARLS, LEAPS. HE AND GK STRUGGLE. RIP. TK LAUGHTER. MORE STRUGGLE. GK SWINGS. KKKRRACK. DOG YELPS. CHASE. TWO SETS OF SFX, ONE RIGHT BEHIND THE OTHER)
(DOWN A HALLWAY)
(THROUGH A DOOR)
(THREE STEPS)
(THROUGH A DOOR)
(UP STAIRS)
(THROUGH A STEEL DOOR)
(ALONG A HALL)
(THROUGH A DOOR)
(THROUGH GRAVEL)
(ONE SET OF FOOTSTEPS SLOWS AND STOPS)
GK: Just don't have the stamina I used to have. Almost had him----- (MUSIC)
SS: Missed him again, huh. Maybe you should go and change your clothes.
GK: My clothes are fine.
SS: Maybe change your shirt.
GK: What do you have against sangria, ma'am?
SS: With pants that shade of green, it causes visual disturbances.
GK: Well, just look away then.
SS: My husband has a pair of extra pants up in the room. Blue pants. Sort of azure.
GK: I don't need a pair of pants.
SS: They'd look good on you.
GK: I'm not an azure type of person.
SS: They'd fit you real nice. You're about a 52 waist? Fifty-four?
GK: No, I'm not. Some women I know say I have the body of a 25- year-old.
SS: Better give it back. You're getting it wrinkled.
GK: You know, I'm frankly starting to lose interest in this job. For one thing, your slighting remarks about my outfit, and also I'm starting to suspect that I'm not going to get paid.
SS: We were going to give you a sweatshirt and a tote bag.
GK: No thanks.
SS: The sweatshirt comes in Mauve or Sunburst Orange.
GK: You mind my asking a question: you lovers of intensely quiet uninterrupted overseas radio ---- why do you bother to get together? Radio listening seems like a solitary sort of thing.
SS: We're hoping to meet someone.
GK: Aha.
TR: That's how Eunice and I met. Through a mutual fondness for the BBC World Service.
SS: They did a three-part feature on neoclassical architecture.
TR: It was so informative.
SS: It's so seldom that radio ever pays attention to architecture.
TR: And this was crystal clear in describing colonnades and cornices and corbels and all----
SS: He asked me for a taped copy of that program and I knew immediately that he was the man for me.
GK: So you two are married?
SS: We were.
TR: For six months.
GK: What happened?
SS: He kept turning the volume up.
TR: I have a very slight hearing loss.
SS: I offered him headphones.
TR: Headphones make me feel marginalized.
SS: I like to listen to the radio at very low volume.
TR: I couldn't hear a thing.
SS: We're still good friends though. (DOOR IS FLUNG OPEN)
TK: OKAY YOU STUPID RADIO PEOPLE, HERE'S WHAT I THINK OF YOUR IDIOTIC MEMBERSHIP WEEK!!!! (LARGE METALLIC OBJECT IS TOSSED INTO ROOM, CLATTERS, SPINS LIKE A HUBCAP)
SS: What is that?
GK: It's a stink bomb. (HISSING)
SS: Oh dear. Why do people do these things? Well, there's one good thing anyway.
GK: What's that?
SS: You'll have to throw that shirt and pants away. (BRIDGE)
GK: She was right. By the time I got out of there, I stank so bad I'd have knocked a buzzard off a manure wagon. I got on a bus and had it all to myself. The smell was bad enough to stop traffic. I threw away the Sangria shirt and the Lime Green pants and took a long bath and headed over to the Five Spot. (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS)
TR (JIMMY): Hey. How's it going, Guy?
GK: Oh, about the same, Jimmy. About the same.
TR (JIMMY): You run out of deodorant again?
GK: No.
TR (JIMMY): You been cleaning fish?
GK: No. Somebody threw a stink bomb at me.
TR (JIMMY): Oh. Guess they hit you, huh?
GK: Close.
TR (JIMMY): You mind sitting over here by the vent?
GK: No, no. That's fine. (SCRAPE OF CHAIR)
TR (JIMMY): What can I get you? The usual?
GK: The usual.
TR (JIMMY): One martini with a soybean, coming up. (OFF, POURING, SHAKING, POURING)
GK: You ever hear of a group called Lovers of Intensely Quiet Uninterrupted Overseas Radio, Jimmy?
TR (JIMMY): No, can't say as I have.
GK: You're lucky. Try to stay ignorant of them. You'll be a lot happier. (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, FOOTSTEPS) Yes, sir?
TK: Would you happen to know how to turn off the timer on an explosive device?
GK: Oh boy. You're the guy who kept busting into the radio convention yelling about membership week. And now you have an explosive device?
TK: In my pants. I'm sorry. I got carried away. It was just getting on my nerves. The phone numbers and the premiums and everythingff.
GK: Did you ever hear about writing a letter of complaint, huh? You don't have to use explosives. So the bomb is in your pants?
TK: It's a pants bomb, yes.
TR (JIMMY): Looks to me like there's a couple wires coming out of his left ankle, Guy.
GK: A red one and a black one ---- were there directions for this pants bomb? Did you make it from a kit?
TK: I'm really embarrassed about this. I can't believe I did this.
GK; Well, I hope you are embarrassed. This is terrible, walking into a bar with a bomb in your pants. Is that how you were brought up?
TK: I am utterly ashamed at my own behavior, I assure you. I slugged you, I sicked my dog on you, I threw a stink bomb, and now here I am with a pants bomb set to go off in ninety seconds and no idea how to disarm it.
GK: Ninety seconds!
TK: That's right. I set it for 6 o'clock, Friday, March the 3rd.
GK: The third----
TR (JIMMY): Friday was March 1st, mister. The third isn't until Sunday.
TK: Oh----
GK: You got twenty-four hours to figure it out before your pants blow up.
TK: Whew!!!! What a relief.
GK: Imagine how we feel.
TR (JIMMY): How about a beer?
TK: Sure. You got any imported beers?
TR (JIMMY): Sure. We got Harp, we got Guinness, we got----
GK: Just get an ordinary domestic beer, okay? You come in here with an explosive device and now you're going to be picky about brands?? Give him a Bud.
TR (JIMMY): Coming right up.
TK: You got that on tap?
GK: Give em a can of Bud.
TR (JIMMY): One can of Bud----
TK: How come I can't choose my own beer?
GK: Because I say so, that's why. Don't push me. It's been a long day.
(THEME)
SS: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers...Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2002