(THEME)
TR (ANNC): 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)
GK: It was February, and it was so cold it hurt your nose to breathe and my car had lost the will to live and the city had towed it away to an impound lot out near the South Dakota border. I had a cash flow problem so I took a job as the night concierge at the St. Paul Hotel, which sounded like a cinch, but the job involved going up to visit guests who could not sleep.
TR:It's 3 a.m. and I've been lying here, wide awake -- worried about my 7 a.m. meeting.
GK:Maybe you need a sleeping pill.
TR: I can't -- I need a clear head for the meeting.
GK:Maybe a warm milk and graham crackers.
TR: Doesn't work for me.
GK: There's a cable channel that just shows a fire in a fireplace. You could watch that.
TR: Fire makes me anxious -- I'm in the insurance business.
GK: Well, what can I do to help?
TR: Would you mind telling me a story?
GK: What sort of story?
TR: I have a CD at home of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, it puts me right out. It comes to the bowl of porridge that was just right and I'm out like a light.
GK: Okay. Once upon a time there was a little girl named Goldilocks and she went for a walk through the forest and she came to a little house (BRIDGE) -- I didn't last long as night concierge and then I took a job as a security man at a toboggan slope in Highland Park. (OUTDOOR AMBIENCE, VOICES OF CHILDREN) There was a crazy woman hanging around who was bothering the kids. She'd park her car and come running out (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) and try to grab them--
SS: You button up your jacket-- look at you! -- you're going to catch your death of cold!!! -- Go home and put on a hat, for crying out loud!!!! You don't have the sense that God gave geese!!!! -- Young lady!!!! Bare legs???? Go home and put on snow pants!!!! What's the matter with you!!!!
GK:Lady-- come on'leave them alone-- (STRUGGLE)
SS (STRUGGLE): You lose 80% of your heat through the top of your head--
GK: They're not your kids. (STRUGGLE) Come on--
SS: It's for their own good.
GK:They have their own parents to yell at them--
SS: What sort of parent lets girls go out in freezing weather with bare legs?
GK:Leave em alone.
SS: Those girls are going to grow up with great big legs and no boy is going to want to date them.
GK:Come on--
SS: They're going to be lonely women with big legs. All because they didn't dress properly.
GK:Come on, or I call the cops.
SS: I'm only warning them--
GK:This is assault. In Minnesota, yelling at people is criminal assault. Move it. Go on. Beat it. (BRIDGE) And then the weather turned cold so I quit that job and I stayed in my apartment at the Shropshire Arms, putting on layers of clothing and watching cable TV which was new for me, now that I had spliced onto my neighbor's cable and wired to my old black and white.
(CHANNEL CHANGES)
SS (SEXY): So you just take the onion, and you cut it like this (SLOW SEXY CHOPPING) in long languorous slices, very thin, very translucent, and then you arrange it gently over the top of the meatloaf with your thumb and your index finger-- (CHANNEL SWITCHES)
TR (SOTTO VOCE): And he's lining up his shot, a very difficult lie here on the median of the freeway (TRUCKS PASSING) and he's going to have to lift it over that grove of trees and over the giraffe standing there... (CHANNELS SWITCHES)
SS (SEXY): ...the garlic cloves I like to press down into the soft meatloaf with my fingers (SUCKING SOUND)--..one by one... I press each clove down into the pale pink tender flesh of the meatloaf--.(SQUORTING).way down--.all the way...
GK: And then after "Cooking With Kathy" went off I realized how cold I was and I reached over and touched my radiator, and it was like ice. (STING). So I called my landlady, Doris.
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): I'm in Florida, Guy. Sarasota.
GK:Doris, I'm freezing. My radiators don't work. I put a little pitcher of cream on the windowsill, it froze.
SS (DORIS): So use the powdered kind.
GK:What's wrong with the radiators?
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): Nothing. I had your heat turned off.
GK: Doris, it's the coldest week of the year!
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): I assumed you had moved out, Guy. I hadn't gotten a rent check from you for so long. '
GK: Look, I put the check --
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): You put it in the mail yesterday. Is that what you're about to tell me, Guy?
GK:I was just about to, yes.
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): Guy. Listen. I am a woman with a built-in lie detector. That's why I never married, Guy. And right now, the needle is way up in the red zone.
GK:Okay, I'll hand-deliver another check right now.
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): Give it to my nephew Tyler. He's in the office. And don't postdate it. And it better not be another check from Murray's Savings & Loan.
GK: Okay, but Tyler is not all that bright, Doris. I'm not sure he--
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): I'm floating on an air mattress with a blue drink in my hand, and I'm wearing a bikini.
GK:Too much information, Doris.
SS (DORIS, ON PHONE): It's purple, and it's got little silver fish all over it.
GK:Lovely. (BRIDGE) So I went to the office where the radiator was working pretty well (STEAM RADIATOR), and I was about to throw my arms around it when somebody knocked on my door (KNOCKING). Yeah, come in, the door's unlocked. (DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS, CLOSE) Yes, sir. What can I do for you?
TR:My name is Larson, Mr. Noir. Bob Larson. I'm an artist.
GK:I could sort of tell that from the velvet pants. Either you're an artist or you're in the road company of "Less Miserable"--
TR:I'm a painter. Sort of an abstract minimalist.
GK:I see.
TR: I do small things on very large canvases. Sort of my trademark.
GK:Fine.
TR: Anyway I'm having problems with my publisher. I'm doing a book. Twelve paintings. The publisher is being a real jerk about deadlines.
GK:And this portfolio here-- this is your work?
TR: Yes. (PAPER RUSTLES)
GK:I see that this painting is entitled "February"--
TR:Right.
GK:And this one is entitled "March" --
TR: That's right.
GK: So it's a book about months?
TR: Actually it's a calendar.
GK: Uh huh.
TR: It's a 2008 calendar.
GK: And you're still working on it.
TR: It's almost there. Another couple months.
GK:Mr. Larson. --Mr. Larson, the problem here isn't your publisher. It's your name.
TR: My name?
GK: Bob Larson is not an artist's name, Roberto. It's a carpenter's name. Maybe an insurance adjustor. A guy who teaches bookkeeping at the vo-tech. It's not an abstract minimalist name.
TR: I was thinking maybe I should change it to St. Paul.
GK: Very distinctive. Memorable. St. Paul. The problem is -- he wasn't a popular apostle. Try St. John. Much better.
TR: You think so?
GK:Know so. Did you ever think of painting women?
TR: You mean, painting pictures of women?
GK: That's what I meant.
TR: No. --I never could get the legs right.
GK: Try painting Minnesota women. Thicker legs. Easier to do.
TR: I'll think about it.
(THEME)
TR (ANNC): 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 OUT)