(THEME)
Tim Russell: 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)
Garrison Keillor: It was cold in St. Paul, and I was sitting in my office looking through a catalogue that offered fresh fruit -- very nice pictures of casaba melons and nectarines, pomegranates, kumquats, guava, and navel oranges with pierced navels. Very appealing, fresh fruit on a cold day. The wind that came whistling down the canyons of brick and stone was enough to make a man think of Dostoevsky, if you'd ever read Tolstoy, or otherwise Mickey Spillane. It was a wind that a man could walk out into and turn up six months later in Oklahoma, having forgotten his own name and serial number. Though I don't mind admitting that amnesia had a certain attraction for me. All those cheery lights on the trees brought back more memories than a man my age can handle sometimes. (APPROACH OF PRUDENCE SINGING "O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL" & INDOOR STORE AMBIENCE) Not to mention the carollers walking down the aisles of Dayton's Department Store. -- Hey-- hey-- Hey. (CAROLLING STOPS)
Prudence Johnson: Is something wrong?
GK: You ever have a painful experience in your life that one song seems to bring it all back to you?
PJ: You had a bad experience with "O Come All Ye Faithful"?
GK: Somehow the word "faithful" makes me remember women who were very very angry at me at the time.
PJ: How about "Joy To The World"?
GK: Joy was one of those angry women. Gloria was another.
PJ: How about "The Holly and The Ivy"?
GK: They were both mad at me too.
PJ: Okay. "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear"--
GK: Midnight was right about when they got angry.
PJ: "O Little Town of Bethlehem?--
GK: Beth. She was really ticked off.
PJ: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"?
GK: Mary.
PJ: Oh. How about "Hark The Herald Angels Sing"?
GK: Sure. Fine. I was never involved with anybody named Hark. Or Harold. That I recall. (PRUDENCE BEGINS "HARK THE HERALD ANGELS" WHICH FADES INTO BRIDGE)........ I headed over to Danny's Deli for lunch. (STING)
Tom Keith (TEEN): A joyous noel to you, Mr. Noir-- what can I get for you?
GK: How's the Spam sandwich today, Wendell?
TK (TEEN): It's good, Mr. Noir. We serve it with pimentos and mint jelly. It's real festive.
GK: Right. What's the Jingle Bell sandwich?
TK(TEEN): It's green olives, cheese curds, miniature marshmallows, and maraschino cherries.
GK: Okay. Skip that. -- Gimme the Denver sandwich.
TK (TEEN): Mustard or mayo?
GK: Mayo.
TK (TEEN): Lettuce?
GK: Hold the lettuce.
TK (TEEN): Pickle?
GK: No.
TK (TEEN): Salsa?
GK: No. (BRIDGE) I had no plans for the holidays, though Jimmy down at the Five Spot had invited me to his Christmas party.
TR (JIMMY): It's gonna be great. I bought a cheese log, fruitcake, eggnog, got some new CDs -- Madonna Sings Yuletide Favorites --
GK: I don't know-- I'll see--
TR (JIMMY): You're just holding off, waiting to see if you get invited to a better party.
GK: No, I'm not. Just not in the Christmas party mood. I'm in the staring into the fire mood.
TR (JIMMY): Awww. Lighten up, Guy. It's Christmas.
GK: I'm doing my best.
SS (DEEP): Hey, mister. Got a light? (SEXY STING)
GK: She was sitting at the end of the bar, wearing antlers and a red leotard and a furry blouse with a name tag that said, Vixen. -- Here. Let me light that. (STRIKE OF MATCH. SS INHALE, EXHALE)
SS (DEEP): Thanks. Boy, that tastes good.
GK: Rough day, huh?
SS (DEEP): You ever work as a reindeer?
GK: Not yet, no.
SS (DEEP): Don't. They pay me eight bucks an hour to walk around handing out perfume samples and jingle, and I'm beat. Boy, do my hooves hurt.
GK: Sounds like a tough job--
SS (DEEP): Hey! Guy--
GK: Gloria?
SS (DEEP): It's been a long time.
GK: It has.
SS (DEEP): We were in that Nativity play together. I was the Angel and you were a shepherd. How you been? You look good.
GK: Oh. Could be worse. How you been?
SS (DEEP): Worse.
GK: Sorry to hear that. I thought you moved to Florida.
SS (DEEP): I tried to.
GK: Didn't work out, huh?
SS (DEEP): Not much work for actresses there. I was Minnie Mouse at Disney World and I got tired of squeaking.
GK: So you moved back.
SS (DEEP): Right. And there's even less work here.
GK: Sorry to hear it.
SS (DEEP): I used to play Desdemona and Ophelia and Juliet, and now I'm an understudy for one of the witches in Macbeth.
GK: Well, one day you're up, the next you're down.
SS (DEEP): But I clean up the theater after the show and keep all the change.
Some nights there are quarters, some nights you find a ten or a twenty.
GK: See what I mean? You take the good with the bad.
SS (DEEP): And how about you, Guy?
GK: Still sitting in hotel lobbies behind a newspaper, waiting to see who gets on the elevator. Just like always. (BRIDGE) I promised to go see Macbeth first chance I got and went back to the office and called the 800 number of the fruit company. (RINGS AT OTHER END, PICK UP)
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): Welcome to Harry and Achmed, this is Achmed, how may I help you?
GK: Is this the fruit company?
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): Yes. We sell fruit. How can I help?
GK: I'm calling to place an order for some fruit baskets to send out to friends of mine.
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): And which fruit basket do you wish, sir?
GK: Well, I see you have the Superior, the DeLuxe, the Prestige, the Concierge, the Basket of Bliss, and the Vulgar Excess -- I'm just looking for the right one-- and would you be able to ship this by Christmas?
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): By what?
GK: Christmas.
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): How do you spell that?
GK: It's December 25.
TR: (ARABIC, ON PHONE): Yes. December 25. We can do that. Which fruit basket would you like?
GK: Well, can I make substitutions?
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): Substitute what?
GK: I'd like to put in Bing cherries instead of figs.
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): You don't care for figs?
GK: Not as a gift item, no. They tend to sit in the fridge until July and they're covered with white moss.
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): My figs are not covered with white moss.
GK: No, I mean, after they sit six months in the fridge they are.......
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): You accuse Achmed of selling rotten figs?
GK: No, no, no--
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): We sell only the best figs. I wouldn't sell you anything I wouldn't give to my own mother. Are you saying my mother would eat rotten figs? Is that what you say? You would put rotten figs in the mouth of my mother?
GK: Listen. I'd like the figs.
TR (ARABIC, ON PHONE): You insult my family? My mother? My fruit?
GK: I'd like ten of the Concierge baskets. Please. (BRIDGE) I sent baskets to Holly, Ivy, Joy, Beth, Mary, Gloria, Jeanette, Isabella. And Carol. And Carol's brother Harold. Ten baskets. Very nice fruit. Apples, pears, apricots, grapes, pierced navel oranges. It isn't going to make up for everything that happened in the past, but who knows? Sometimes at Christmas, people go through their refrigerators and throw out the moldy stuff and start out fresh.
MUSIC UP
TR: 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.