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 --- (THEME UP AND OUT)
GK: It was two weeks before Christmas and I was in New York, trying to escape from spending Christmas with my sister Georgina. I was working on the case of a showgirl named Mitzi who lost a diamond brooch the size of a doorknob while hoofing it down the backstairs of a Park Avenue penthouse----
SS (SHOWGIRL): I was in a big fat hurry.
GK: Sure. What was the big rush?
SS (SHOWGIRL): None of your beeswax.
GK: I was having a hard time concentrating. Her jeans were so tight I could read the embroidery on her underwear. It said Fat Chance.
SS (SHOWGIRL): I was there visiting a sick friend and I felt a sneeze coming on and I hadda get out of the building.
GK: Listen, Mitzi, how can I help you if you don't tell me the truth?
SS (SHOWGIRL): What does the truth have to do with anything?
GK: Ma'am. A word of advice. Honesty is the prerequisite to any kind of happiness, believe me.
SS (SHOWGIRL): You're not from here, are you, mister? (BRIDGE)
GK: So I went over to Park Avenue and I found the real estate agent who had handled the sale of that particular apartment.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): So what can I do for you, Mr. Noir?
GK: What can you tell me about the apartment, Miss Baumeister?
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): Mr. Noir, I am a professional. I work on trust. Trust is my stock in trade, my calling card. I am nothing if my clients cannot trust me. What do you want to know?
GK: Who is the owner and what did he pay for the apartment?
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): His name is Rabindranath Haralanamaharama-krishnapurti-piscacadawadaquoddymoggin-homearama.
GK: I see.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): The price was 8.5 million dollars.
GK: For a two-bedroom?
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): It's got nice bathrooms, a good view, lots of closets, it comes with a garbage disposal, what can I say.
GK: This man----
GK: The man you just mentioned----
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): What's his name?
GK: The man with the long name.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): I have many clients with long names.
GK: Rabindranath Haralanamaharama-piscacadawadaquoddymoggin-homearama-harakrishna.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): Oh. Him. Right. I call him Harry.
GK: I take it he is Indian.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): Yes. Ojibway.
GK: Interesting. I wonder how he got that kind of money.
SS (DEEP, GRAVELLY): He traded the western half of North Dakota for that apartment. (STING AND BRIDGE)
GK: North Dakota. Suddenly I remembered an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. Animals of the Great Plains. I walked in the doors. Silence. Grandeur. (FOOTSTEPS ON MARBLE, REVERB.) Stuffed animals. Elephants. A brontosaurus. A hairy mammoth. Fossils. Henry Kissinger.
Al Franken: (KISSENGER): Hello, Mr. Noir. Thank you for coming. This is my publicist, Lizzie.
SS (BEAUTY): This way, Mr. Noir. (FOOTSTEPS)
GK: I could tell right away she was a publicist. She was beautiful with fingernails like talons and wore a size 3 dress, black, with a string of pearls that can be used to strangle an adversary and each pearl is a small plastic explosive that can open any door.
GK: We went through a door that was just past a saber-toothed tiger and into an office (PHONES RINGING, SOME COMMOTION) and past a copier (COPIER) that was spitting out press releases and invitations to fundraisers and a machine that was assembling gift baskets (ASSEMBLY LINE MACHINE) ---- and we went into her office, which was bare, white walls, natural wood floor, a forty by twenty foot desk, and a notepad. (DOOR CLOSE)
SS (BEAUTY): Henry wants to talk to you.
GK: Fine. I'm all ears.
AF (KISSINGER): I'll come right to the point, Mr. Noir. I get invited to a lot of dinners. This year, I've been to 547 dinners.
GK: That's a lot of baby greens and vinaigrette dressing.
AF (KISSINGER): It is. But it's what I do. The problem is ---- sometimes I get seated at dinners between two people who I have nothing to say to them ---- you know what I mean?
GK: Happens to me every Christmas at my sister Georgina's.
AF (KISSINGER): Like last night. I was sitting between Michael Moore and Jacques Chirac.
GK: Interesting.
AF (KISSINGER): And right across from me was Christina Aguilera.
GK: Wish I'd been there.
AF (KISSINGER): No you don't. I want you to come to work for me and get copies of seating charts for dinners so I can see who I'm next to and decide if I need to get sick at the last minute.
SS (BEAUTY): Henry is happy to pay your going rate, Mr. Noir. And you'll report through me. If that's okay. (MUSIC)
GK: You're not sick now, are you? You sound as if maybe you've got a throat problem.
AF (KISSINGER): No, I've never been better.
GK: Could you just open your mouth and let me have a look?
GK: Well, I thought that reporting through her would be okay. Doing anything through her would be just fine. Running my fingers through her hair, running floss through her teeth, anything she wanted. ---- So I overtipped the free-lance waiters in town and I got the inside dope on dinners and who would be sitting where and I made sure that Mr. Kissinger would only be seated next to gorgeous blonde right-wing women----
SS (SOUTHERN): I must say I admire a man who takes that unilateral preemptive approach to things. Speaking of which, I've got some weapons back at my place if you'd like to come and search for them.
GK: And keep him away from Swedish people. (TR SWEDISH EARNEST TALK) And away from Bill Clinton.
TR (CLINTON): And thirdly, about Pakistan and that whole Kashmir thing, if you go back to 1953 and the Karachi Accords ---- you've read those, right? If I remember correctly, in Article 3---- (FADING)
GK: Keep him away from Jacques Chirac (TR ACCUSATORY FRENCH) or any Chirac-type person, such as Ted Koppel for example.
TR (KOPPEL): If I may take you back to something you said a minute ago, Mr. Secretary, when you mentioned the passing of the potatoes, at which I could not help but be reminded of the famous words of Winston Churchill ----
GK: I kept him away from Michael Moore (TR: This bread basket makes me think of corporate titans and their grip on the American people--) and got him next to Demi Moore (SS: Wow. How old ARE you?). I made sure Mr. Kissinger got to sit next to people he was comfortable with and not people who'd make him nervous----
TR (SOUTHERN, PREACHER): And in the book of Revelations, we read the prophecies that show all things coming to an end and if I may turn your attention to Chapter 7, verse number 4-----
GK: It was simple enough, or so I thought (MUSIC) but word got around and before I knew it, I was a big success. (PHONE RINGING) I was in demand. People were calling me left and right.
TR (ARNOLD): This is the governor of California. Listen---- there's this dinner coming up and I don't want to have to sit next to any accountants---- (BRIDGE)
GK: Hillary Clinton called. Clint Eastwood. Woody Allen. Alan King. Larry King. King Gustav of Sweden. (TR SWEDISH) And then I got a phone call from the top.
TR (BUSH): This is your President speaking, Mr. Noir.
GK: Yes, sir.
TR (BUSH): It's about these state dinners they got me going to.
GK: Right.
TR (BUSH): How come I always get stuck next to the wife of some head of state? And the dinners have to go on for hours? I'm the leader of the Free World and I gotta sit and make chit-chat and get edumacated about current events or something by somebody's wife. (BRIDGE)
GK: It's a universal feeling. People don't want to waste time. An evening sitting next to somebody you don't need to talk to is too painful for most people, but especially for New Yorkers. So that's where I am right now. Sitting pretty. I'm a real cultural phenomenon. Phone keeps ringing, but it's always clients. Not the phone call I'm waiting for. (BLUE PIANO) Christmas is a lonely time. I hate to be spending it with the same old friends: Jose Cuervo, Ben & Jerry, Little Debbie, Mrs. Swanson. I've been looking. I don't care about beautiful, I'm just looking for another biped. Sometimes being a biped is enough, if you've got a cologne to go with it.
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but in a bar on West 72nd Street in Manhattan, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions--Guy Noir, Private Eye. (OUT)