GK:...back right after a word from Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

You're at a dinner party (HUBBUB, GLASSES), a great dinner party. (HUBBUB. CF: Isn't that Thomas Jefferson over there? TR: Yes. Talking to Herman Melville. CF: And Adlai Stevenson. (SHRILL LAUGHTER) It's a wonderful party. There's Emily Dickinson (CF: Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me) and there's Thomas Edison and there's Walt Whitman and there's Kirk Douglas (TR: I can't believe I'm here with Walt Whitman and Thomas Edison. Me. Kirk Douglas.) And you're having a very good time and then there's a waiter there, offering you a twelve-pound marshmallow. (TK: Sir? TR: Thanks. HE EATS GIGANTIC SOFT OBJECT) And you've almost swallowed the whole thing, when (ALARM) you wake up with your pillow in your mouth (TR SPITTING) and you leap out of bed (TR PANIC) and into the shower (SFX) and dress and grab your kid (TK: Hey!) and jump in the car (CAR START. TR: Sorry, I've got a meeting in ten minutes.) (CAR PULLS AWAY) and you race to your kid's school (TR: No time to stop, Timmy, JUMP! TK: OKaaaaayyyyy) CAR ACCELERATE) You get to the ad agency where you work (BRAKES. DOOR OPEN. RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) and you dash in....(TR PANTING)....and sit down (TR DEEP BREATH) and you look at the board where someone has written (TR: Rodents In Lockstep.... Psychic Napalm.... False Reality and the Intangibles.....What are those? CF: You never heard of those? Those are the top three bands in the country. TR: Oh. Great.) (DOOR OPEN. CLOSE. SLOW APPROACH OF LARGE SHOES. HUSH DESCENDS.) And then in the door comes the big cheese. Le Gran Fromage. (TK CLEARS THROAT AND: Okay people. Listen up. Time to spitball the creative. Got a new account. Big one. It's a hip new product designed to hook teenagers. A mock cigarette made from blanched wood pulp, pine tar, machine oil, gunpowder and untested psycho-active drugs. It's called NICK-O-TEENS. (HUBBUB OF EXCITEMENT)

GK: And suddenly you remember Gramps lying on the gurney outside the OR before his lung surgery... (TR: Gimme a smoke, Davy. C'mon. Be a pal. Just one.) And you stand up in front of all those admen and adwomen. (TK: Yes? What is it, Jenkins? TR: Sir, as a matter of conscience...(HIS VOICE BREAKS) I cannot do this. TK: OH? REALLY? What are you going to do for work, Jenkins? TR: I don't know. Maybe I'll go into --- non-commercial radio. CROWD GASP.) and suddenly (METAL CLANG) a trap door opens beneath you (TR FALLING, SLIDE SFX) and you hurtle down a 300 foot chute and land in a tank full of barracuda. (BIG SPLASH) SFX: BARRACUDE CHOMPING, SPLASHING) You swim for your life (TR VOCAL REACT), fighting off the tiny carnivorous fish as their razor-sharp jaws rip your shirt and pants, and then, up above, you see an iron grate. You leap up (TR CRY, SPLASH OF MAN EXITING WATER) and grab onto it and manage to unlock it (TR EFFORT) and you (TR BIG EFFORT) swing yourself up through the opening and you find yourself in tall grass (RUSTLE OF THICK GRASSY UNDERBRUSH) and you walk through it toward what appears to be a tree and then behind you (MGM LION LOW ROAR) (TR: Oh no....) and you run for it (FAST FOOTSTEPS, RUSTLING, TR PANTING, LION ROAR), you dash toward the tree and you leap (TR EFFORT) and you swing yourself up onto the branch just as (LION BIG ROAR) the lion leaps and (CLOTH RIP) gets your pantleg but you're okay and you climb up into the skinny branches and then (TK: Hi, Dad.) ---- it's your son. And he's smoking. (TK (INHALE): What's wrong? What're you lookin at me like that for?

(THEME) It's at times like that, you need rhubarb pie. Yes, nothing takes the taste of fear out of your mouth like Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

One little thing can redeem a guy
And that is a piece of rhubarb pie
Serve it up, nice and hot,
Maybe things aren't as bad as you thought.
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb pie
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb
Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.

©1996 BY GARRISON KEILLOR