(THEME)
Sue Scott: 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. (MUSIC FADE)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
Garrison Keillor: It was a cold December night in St. Paul and I was talking to my radiator, trying to encourage it to do better, and I was working on the case of the fire in New Ulm that burned down the butter factory. New Ulm was swimming in saturated fats and there was reason to believe the fire was deliberately set, by a lactose-intolerant hate group called the Skinheads. Same people who went to the Minnesota State Fair last summer and tried to blow up the butter sculptures. A hate group against butter. I was Googling lactose-intolerant when the phone rang... (PHONE RING) knocking me off-line, ( PICK UP). Yeah, Noir here.
Tim Russell (ARNOLD, ON PHONE): Mr. Noir, this is the governor of California.
GK: Aha. No wonder my phone feels warm. What can I do for you, Governor?
TR (ARNOLD, ON PHONE): I need your help for an important campaign to change the U.S. Constitution so it is possible for a robot to run for president.
GK: I don't think we have anything against a robot president. Obviously we don't.
TR (ARNOLD, ON PHONE): And how about steroids?
GK: Nothing against steroids in the Constitution, but people are sort of down on them.
TR (ARNOLD, ON PHONE): Steroids are simply a drug that enhances performance. Like coffee except different. Barry Bonds used them.
GK: He may get kicked out of baseball, too.
TR (ARNOLD): But if he does, he could still win the Kentucky Derby. That's what steroids can do for you.
GK: Listen -- I don't think it's steroids or robotism, I think the country isn't ready for a president from a coastal area.
TR (ARNOLD, ON PHONE): I could move. -- Where is Minnesota, anyway?
GK: I'd be careful about that. We get snow here, sir. And we have lactose-intolerant hate groups.
TR (ARNOLD): (BEEP) I have another call. I'll be back (HANGS UP)
(BRIDGE)
TR (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir, my name is G. Donald Bjorklund and I need somebody to attend my company's Christmas party for me.
GK: I see.
TR (ON PHONE): I hate these company parties, it's just an orgy of butt-kissing, and I don't have the time for it so I'd like to hire you to go in my place.
GK: I see. You don't think people would notice that it wasn't you?
TR: (ON PHONE) I tele-commute, Mr. Noir. I'm a consultant. I'm a solutions provider. A conclusion coordinator. An analysis associate.
GK: What does that mean?
TR (ON PHONE): It means I sit in my pajamas all day and surf the web. I do all my work from my bedroom, in my pajamas, over the computer. Nobody at NarCo has ever laid eyes on me. All you have to do is show up, mingle, eat the meatballs, and as soon as one other person leaves, you're free to go.
(MUSIC BRIDGE)
GK: It sounded like easy money. So I scrounged up a red and green sweater and an old tweed blazer with leather elbow patches, to look like a philosophy major, and I gargled with Listerine and I headed for the St. Paul Ritz-Carlton, the party room on the 14th floor -- (PARTY HUBBUB) and stopped at the table to pick up a name tag.
GK: Aha. G. Donald Bjorklund. Here I am right here.
SS: (HOSTESS) Oh hi. I'm Barb. Barb from Branding.
GK: Oh right. Good to see you at last.
SS: (HOSTESS) Same here. Somehow, I had you pictured as younger.
GK: Yeah, I get that a lot. Consulting is rough work. Takes a lot out of you.
SS: (HOSTESS) Right. If you go right in through there, Don, the bar is on your left, the dance floor is straight ahead, and you can leave your Secret Santa gift here at the table with me.
GK: My gift? Oh sure. My gift. Isn't that funny. I left it in the car. Be right back. (BRIDGE) I dashed downstairs, got a pound of jellybeans at Candyland, had them wrap it up in gold paper, and I was in business. I waded through the crowd. (PARTY HUBBUB) The bar was packed with people greasing the skids. (TO BARTENDER) Gimme a Rusty Nail. Easy on the rust.
TR: (YOUNG BARTENDER) Sure thing. (MIXING)
GK: I tried to blend in. People were checking their watches every five minutes or so, waiting for the chance to jump ship.
Fred Newman: Hey! At last we meet. Don! Good to see you.
GK: Same here. Fred?
FN: Ed.
GK: Ed. Right.
FN: You sound younger in your e-mails.
GK: It must be the font.
FN: That last one was a doozy. How long did it take you to PhotoShop that picture? (LAUGHS) I laughed at that all day.
GK: You liked it huh?
FN: Omigod. The way you had the boss sitting on the toilet. And the more times you pressed the space bar the louder the noises got (LAUGHTER)
GK: Glad you liked it. Listen-- I'm gonna try the eggnog. (FOOTSTEPS)
SS: (WAITRESS) Welcome to the Eggnog Nook. We have chocolate nog, caramel nog, nougat nog, triple decaf latte nog, orange peel nog, apple fritter nog, wasabi nog, turkey a la king nog--
GK: How about just the regular?
SS: (HOSTESS) There you go sir.
GK: Thanks. (SLURPS) Not bad. There's dairy in here, isn't there.
TR (RICO): Hey Noir. What you doin' here? (STING)
GK: I'm undercover, Rico. Keep your voice down. What you doing here?
TR (RICO): Never mind. What's it worth to you for me to keep your little secret, Mr. Bjorkland?
GK: What are you talking about, Rico?
TR (RICO): You know what I'm talking about. Something green and crisp and I don't mean romaine. Come across with the bling.
GK: You wouldn't know anything about a little fire over at the New Ulm Butter plant, would you? Three million pounds of melted butter on main street-butter emergency-alternate side of the street parking rules in effect indefinitely?
TR (RICO): Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But come across with the green. Come on, Noir. For the holidays. For my kids.
GK: Your kids are 38 and 43, if I remember correctly. And together they weigh about 550, with their gold chains on.
TR (RICO): So what? They'll always be my kids. It's Christmas--have a heart.
GK: Tell your kids to get a job-preferably one that doesn't use their particular job skills. -- Excuse me. (FOOTSTEPS) I walked inside the banquet room, fifty big round tables with pre-set salads and I spotted my place-setting on a table near the front of the room.
SS (BREATHY): Excuse me. Could you help me with my seat? (SEXY SAX)
GK: She was as tall as a Christmas tree and beautifully decorated, though I tried hard not to look for fear of seeing too much. Her sweater was red and it was tighter than a rusted nut and you could've sworn there were tiny animals moving underneath it.
SS: Hi. I guess we're sitting by each other. I'm Angela.
GK: Don Bjorklund. Pleasure to meet you.
Tom Keith: So you're the famous Bjorklund. Huh. Figures.
SS: Oh Stuart. Behave. Never mind my husband.
GK: Your husband?
TK: That's me, bozo. (STING)
GK: A dumpy old bald guy in a polyester suit stood next to her.
TK: Sit down, Bjorklund.
GK: It's great to be here. Happy Holidays to you.
TK: Hey, what do you do if Santa Claus gets stuck in your chimney. Huh? Give up. Pour Santa Flush on him. (LAUGHS)
GK: Yeah, that's a good one.
TK: What's the matter. Don't you believe in Santa? What are you -- a rebel without a Claus? (LAUGHS) (IRRITATED) Cheer up, buddy. It's not like you paid to get in.
(BRIDGE MUSIC)
GK: The breath on the guy! Obviously a cigar smoker. He smelled like a goat sacrifice on a pile of burning tires. This guy could vulcanize rubber by blowing on it.
TR (PA SYSTEM): Your attention please, everyone. The president of NarCo would like to say a few words. Please welcome, Stuart Koppelman.
(SFX: APPLAUSE)
TK (DUMPY GUY): Merry Christmas everyone. Hey, what do you if Santa Claus gets stuck in your chimney? Pour Santa Flush on him? (CROWD LAUGHTER) I asked one of Santa's helpers to come up here and talk but nobody wanted to -- they all have low elf-esteem. (MORE LAUGHTER) What did the Paranoid sing at Christmas? Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me. (LAUGHTER) But seriously, I'd like to thank you all for your hard work this year. Except you, Bjorklund, you rat. (GASPS)
GK: Me, sir?
TK: Very funny e-mail you sent. Stop by my office Monday morning. Secret Santa has some lingerie for you -- a pink slip! (LAUGHS) And the rest of you--better watch your backs. Merry Christmas. (STING, BRIDGE)
GK: I looked over at Angela, but she just shrugged her shoulders and got out her compact and started putting on lipstick. I got up to leave and suddenly it was like I was invisible. Oh well. I'd always wanted to get fired and being a self-employed guy, never had the chance. It felt good. (FOOTSTEPS) It was a long walk though. (SLOW FOOTSTEPS, QUIET, A FEW THROAT CLEARINGS) Sort of like in A Tale of Two Cities -- the long walk to the tumbrel for the ride to the guillotine -- (DOOR CLOSE) I walked into the empty bar, I saw a man hooking up some wires to a package under the egg nog table. -- Sir?
TR (KIRK): Who? Me? Who are you? I'm just -- just fixing something-- I'm the electrician--
GK: You're a Skimhead, aren't you.
TR (KIRK): How'd you know?
GK: You just have that lactose-intolerant look about you. Put the wires down, kid. Back away from the egg nog.
TR (KIRK): Stay back! I won't stop! People don't understand what it's like. To see everyone else eating sour cream on their burritos, Brie on a cracker. I have to get my calcium from eating sardines! For their bones!
GK: Ok, take it easy.
TR: (KIRK) I can never have another milkshake!
GK: Okay, okay--
TR (KIRK): I have a genetic deficiency that leaves me without lactase enzyme. I can't tolerate dairy products. And the same genetic deficiency makes my voice sound like Kirk Douglas.
GK: Listen. Leave it alone, kid.
TR (KIRK): I'm gonna do it. Here I go (SPARKS FLY, FIZZLE OUT) Wrong cords.
GK: What are those?
TR (KIRK): Couple of charge cords from an old cell phone.
GK: Here's a tip, kid: planning. A little research goes a long way.
TR (KIRK): It's not my fault. I also have attention deficit disorder. (BRIDGE)
GK: I walked out of the hotel and it was beautiful outside. Snow falling through the old magnolia trees there in Rice Park. A carriage going around the park. (CARRIAGE, HORSE HOOVES) The clock on the Landmark Center struck eight. (EIGHT BONGS) And there was a busker in the park, a guy with a ukelele and his ukelele case open and some loose change inside.
FN: Hi there. (UKELELE)
GK: He wore a hat with a propeller and some campaign buttons for defeated Democrats and he had a couple of ducks on his shoulder and they sang in duet. (DUCK DUET OF HARK THE HERALD ANGELS) It was good. I reached into my pocket for some loose change and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. -- Aw, what the heck. Here you go, pal. Merry Christmas. (DUCK EXCITEMENT)
(THEME)
SS: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions -- Guy Noir, Private Eye.