(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
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.
(THEME UP AND OUT)
GK: It was one of those damp spring nights, when a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love, and a middle aged man's bursitis flares up. I was sitting at my desk, reading a newspaper article about the importance of dietary roughage, and wondering if the olive in a martini counts as fiber, when -(PHONE RINGS, PICK UP) Yeah, Guy Noir here.
SS (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir?
GK: Hello?
SS (ON PHONE): I need your help, Mr. Noir. My name is Sharon.
GK: What can I do for you?
SS (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir, I'll come right to the point. My husband is helplessly addicted to the novels of Stephen King.
GK: Uh oh.
SS (ON PHONE): He just finished the one about the cat sucking the air out of babies and now he's started on the one about the gravitational pull of the moon affecting the steering mechanism of garbage trucks so they veer to the side whenever the Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations" is played on the radio.
GK: I see. And you want me to help, eh?
SS (ON PHONE): He's read these books before. This is his third time through.
GK: Rereading. That is serious. Tell you what. I'll call back later. I'll be the editor of the Stephen King Quarterly, I'll ask him to write a couple thousand words about the motif of irrational fear, say it's a cover story, offer him a big chunk of change, and that'll be it.
SS (ON PHONE): Writing a review?
GK: A writing assignment is the proven way of killing interest in anything. You wait. In one week, your husband will be a free man. (MUSIC) She was so grateful she offered to pay me. I was about to go across the street and spend some of it when (PHONE RING, PICK UP) - Yeah, Guy Noir here.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): Guy? Is that you?
GK: Oh. Hi, Sugar. How are you?
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): It didn't sound like you. It sounded like someone older.
GK: Well, it's me.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): You don't sound like you're getting outdoors, Guy.
GK: Well, outdoors isn't everything, Sugar. There's a lot of great stuff indoors.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): I had the most wonderful romantic weekend, Guy. Walt took me to Duluth. We stayed at the Hotel Louis. We ate on the terrace. A full moon over Lake Superior. We had the broiled haddock with the parsley. My favorite.
GK: Broiled haddock? your favorite? I thought it was ribs.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): Walt loves haddock, too. And we had the most wonderful conversations.
GK: Well, that's great. You talk about exit ramps? Eminent domain?
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): He wants to marry me, Guy. He's crazy about me.
GK: He's a highway engineer, Sugar. Craziness for these guys is wearing a pink shirt instead of a white one. He's working from a limited palette.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): He's going to retire in a couple years and we're going to move to Duluth. My life long dream.
GK: I had no idea. Duluth?
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): Anyway, I just had to tell someone about it.
GK: Well, thanks for sharing, Sugar.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): So how about you, Guy? You find anyone?
GK: I've found a lot of people, Sugar. And said goodbye to a lot of people. Life is movement. Life is change. Some of us cherish our privacy. Us philosophical types. The unexamined life and all that. Never mind.
SS (SUGAR, ON PHONE): Take care of yourself, Guy. Get outdoors. Bye. (MUSIC)
GK: I don't understand why she has to tell me about her romantic life. I'm not some stranger in a beauty salon. I've got feelings. I headed over to the Five Spot to talk to my therapist, Jimmy. (MUSIC BRIDGE. DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS.)
TR (JIMMY): Hey Guy -
GK: Jimmy - how's everything -
TR (JIMMY): Not so bad. Can't complain.
GK: Good. Then don't. It's my turn.
TR (JIMMY): What can I bring you?
GK: A Martini and another Martini after that. Better make it a trio.
TR (JIMMY): That bad, huh.
GK: Just want to slip away from reality for awhile.
TR (JIMMY): You got those springtime blues?
GK: Naw. Just feeling like the rest of the world is paired into couples and I'm on the stag line, with a tube of Clearisil in my pocket.
TR (JIMMY): Yeah, that sounds like the blues, all right.
GK: (JIMMY BUSIES HIMSELF MIXING MARTINI) It's Sugar. She and this engineer in the highway department. Sounds like they're about to fasten the ball and chain.
TR (JIMMY): Well, at least those guys keep regular hours.
GK: I can't see her with a highway engineer somehow. A guy who tries to spice up his personality with breath mints. You mind if I use your phone, Jimmy?
TR (JIMMY): You're not gonna call up Sugar, are you? (DIALING)
GK: Naw. This is strictly business.
TR: Sure. Go right ahead.
(PHONE RING AT OTHER END. PICK UP)
TR (OTHER END): Yeah?
GK: Is this Mr. Murdoch? Earl Murdoch?
TR (OTHER END): Yeah?
GK: Mr. Murdoch, you don't know me, but I'm R. Dean Whittaker and I'm the editor of the Stephen King Quarterly here in Portland, Maine -
TR (OTHER END): Oh wow. Cool.
GK: Mr. Murdoch, I'll get right to the point. We'd like you to write two thousand words on the use of nameless dread as a means of heightened sensory awareness in the work of Stephen King ...
TR (OTHER END): Cool.
GK: And of course this would be from a non-hierarchical, post-colonialist standpoint ...
TR (OTHER END): Hey. Wow.
GK: And we'd be willing to pay you twenty-grand on acceptance ...
TR (OTHER END): (FAINTS. A SLIGHT CRASH. SOME PHONE CRACKLING.)
SS (AT OTHER END): Mr. Noir -
GK: What happened?
SS (OTHER END): My husband fainted and hit his head on the coffee table. And now he's coming to ...
GK: I'll bet he's cured, Mrs. Murdoch.
(TR FAINT MURMURING AT OTHER END, FRENCH)
SS (OTHER END): Maybe so, but now his college French has come back.
(TR CLEARER, OTHER END, FRENCH)
GK: So learn French, Mrs. Murdoch. It's a beautiful language. You can say a lot in it. C'est la vie, for example; Quelle est la place le moins chere.
SS: What does that mean?
GK: It means, where is the cheapest seat? I use that one all the time.
(THEME)
TR: A dark night in the city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions - Guy Noir, Private Eye.
(MUSIC OUT)
(c) 1999 by Garrison Keillor