(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott; TR: Tim Russell; FN: Fred Newman)
(THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the empty streets, on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions --- Guy Noir, Private Eye ---
(PIANO)
GK: It was one of those mild winter days in St. Paul that are even harder to bear than the cold ones because as you thaw out, you're able to feel pain again. And then it dawned on me: there are places in this country where people sit outdoors in February. And that's what got me to Phoenix. That and a call from a woman named Whoopee. Megan Whoopee. The president of the Whoopee Cushion Co.
SS (ON PHONE): We make novelty items, Mr. Noir. And we're having a problem with our fake vomit.
GK: I see.
SS (ON PHONE): Rubber vomit is one of our biggest sellers. And ours is all watery.
GK: Well, some vomit is like that sometimes.
SS (ON PHONE): Could you come down and help us? (BRIDGE)
GK: Well, I'm not proud. I got on a plane and flew to Phoenix and checked into the Casa del Pueblo Non Habla Ingles Hotel and ----
TR: Hey---- You're from Minnesota, right?
GK: How could you tell?
TR: Your clothes are cold.
GK: Oh. You're a CPA, right?
TR: How'd you guess that?
GK: Name tag.
TR: Oh. Right. ----My girlfriend's from Minnesota.
GK: I see.
TR: Former girlfriend. She left me. Yesterday. Just walked out. Left me and went back to Minnesota.
GK: Really. In February. She must've been very angry.
TR: She said to me, she said, "Ray, you know what your problem is? you've got no class." And then she goes back up north.
GK: Uh huh.
TR: I'm thinking about calling her up and saying, "Hey, remember when you said I had no class that time when you were just about to leave me here in Phoenix? Well, who is laughing now?" ---- That'd show her. Naw, it's gotta have more zing. How about I say, "Hey, you dummie, maybe you want to think again about what you said about me that time when you were about to head up north and you thought that somebody had no class, huh?-----" Naw. Not quite right. How about I fly up there and I say, "Hey. I suppose maybe you've forgotten all about that time you referred to me as The Guy With No Class, but I haven't. Phoenix. Remember? Naw, I need more of a zinger. (BRIDGE)
GK: I finally got rid of him and jumped in a cab and (CAB BRAKES, SLOWING, STOP) headed over to Megan Whoopee's address. It was an office park in Tempe. A big building. Whoopee Cushion Co. (BRIDGE)
SS: Come in, Mr. Noir. Thanks for coming to Phoenix. (MUSIC)
GK: She was a platinum blonde in a silk sheath dress that defied gravity and public decency, but her bravery was gratifying to an older man with little social life of his own. Around her neck was a chinchilla scarf and the look on the chinchilla's face was one of pure pleasure. He looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.
SS: Have a seat, Mr. Noir.
GK: Thank you. (BIG JUICY SLOW WHOOPEE CUSHION FART) So you really do make whoopee cushions here---- Or was that me?
SS: No, that was the cushion. We also make a musical whoopee cushion that plays "This Could Be The Start Of Something Big." Here, let me help you up ----
GK: Oh, thanks. (BUZZER) Hey---- nice hand buzzer. I never even noticed.
SS: You like it? How about the corsage?
GK: The corsage on your--- (BIG SQUIRT) --- Oh boy. Got me again.
SS: You're sure a good sport, Mr. Noir. Care for a cigar?
GK: Don't mind if I do. (SCRATCH OF MATCH. HE INHALES. PUFFS ON IT.) Very nice cigar. (BIG BANG) ---- Very nice exploding cigar, I should say.
SS: Hope you didn't burn your mouth. Here--- have a glass of water , Mr. Noir.
GK: Thanks. (MAJOR SPILLAGE) Hey--- you know that is just about the best dribble glass I ever saw.
SS: You're an awfully good sport, Mr. Noir. And as a reward, here's a chocolate cake. With candles.
GK: This is one of those joke cakes, isn't it, Miss Whoopee?
SS: Yes, sir.
GK: The candles don't blow out and when I lean over it, the top opens and a lot of spring-loaded snakes fly up in my face. Am I right?
SS: That's right.
GK: So how long have you been in the novelty business, Miss Whoopee?
SS: Call me Megan. ---- My grandfather Ludwig founded the company in Munich, Mr. Noir, and I inherited it from my father. After he died in a vat of fake dog poop.
GK: I'm so sorry ----
SS: So was he. It was a terrible tragedy. It was at his retirement party. We held it here at the factory, and he was so happy ---- finally, after thirty years of making whoopee cushions and dribble glasses, he was about to go off and write that novel he'd been wanting to write, and he looked down in the vat of imitation poop and he got nauseated and fell in and died.
GK: Terrible.
SS: It was. He was in the poop and all we had for life preservers was whoopee cushions ---- so we threw them to him ---- and every time he grabbed one---- (THEY'RE BOTH LAUGHING) I shouldn't laugh.
GK: I know.
SS: But it was funny. (BRIDGE)
GK: She took me on a tour of the Whoopee Cushion factory to see where the stuff is made, the talking toilet seat and the sneezing powder and itching powder and disappearing ink and the plastic vomit ----
SS: This is the vomit we're having the problem with. We can't get it to congeal.
GK: Maybe something is off in your formula.
SS: This is from the original recipe that Grandpa brought over from Munich.
GK: Hmmmm. Let me see. Plastic vomit- 2 g. latex.
SS: Two gallons.
GK: Grams, Miss Whoopee.
SS: Grams----
GK: Yes. This is a German formula.
SS: How silly of me----
GK: Think nothing of it. ---- What are you doing for dinner tonight, Miss Whoopee?
FN: Actually, my name is Kevin, Mr. Noir. (RIPPING OF LATEX RUBBER) Just trying out one of our disguises.
GK: I'm astounded.
FN: The miracle of latex rubber.
GK: Boy, they sure looked real to me. It sure looked real. The latex, I mean. (MUSIC) I headed back to my hotel and the accountant was there in the lobby waiting for me.
TR: Hi. I've been thinking maybe I should call up that rotten ex-girlfriend of mine ----and say, "Listen, you frozen meatball, if your idea of class is having rhinestones on the hood of your parka, then I guess maybe you were right about what you said to me that time." No, that's no good.
GK: Listen. Let me tell you something. Have a seat.
TR: Okay---- (BIG JUICY WHOOPEE BLAST) --- Boy, that felt good!
GK: Glad you liked it. Listen--- there are some things that can't be said in words. Try sending your ex-girlfriend a gift.
TR: It's rubber vomit.
GK: You've seen this before? Put it in an envelope and ship it up there and know that your message was received.
TR: You're a brilliant man, Mr. Noir. And that's a beautiful piece of latex.
GK: You think that's beautiful, you ought to see the lady I was with an hour ago. Better than vomit, let's put it that way.
(THEME)
SS: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the empty streets, on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions --- Guy Noir, Private Eye --- (MUSIC OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2003