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.


GK: It was October, a week before the election, and I was getting plenty of business, campaigns hiring me to find dirt on their opponents, talking to people who knew them in high school.

SS: His nickname was Shifty. He was not nice. Take it from me. I dated him.

GK: He use drugs?

SS: Naw. Just beer.

GK: Ever arrested for drunken driving?

SS: No. But he used to pick his nose. A lot.

GK: Uh huh.

SS: I mean, like right out in the open.

GK: Okay.

SS: He'd be standing right there like you are and you'd turn away for like two seconds and look back and there he was with a big juicy one on his index finger. Great big ball of snot.

GK: Okay.

SS: Standing right there.

GK: Ever take a picture of him doing that?

SS: No, of course not. What would I want with a picture of a guy with a handful of snot? Huh?

GK: Good point. (BRIDGE) Being a private eye, you tend to see people at their worst.

TR: So what'd you get on him, Noir? Mr. Goody Two-Shoes? What'd you find?

GK: Well, there's a security camera photograph of him in a Taco Bell in 1987 accidentally putting his hand on the door to a women's restroom.

TR: Beautiful. I want it.

GK: It was an accident.
TR: I don't care.

GK: He puts his hand on the door, starts to push it, then sees what it is, and he jumps back.

TR: Gimme the frame before he jumps.

GK: It's misleading. Dishonest.

TR: I'm simply raising questions about his character.

GK: The man didn't go in.

TR: I say, let the voters decide. (BRIDGE)

GK: I was getting sort of discouraged about democracy and so when I got a call from Tulsa, it felt like my chance to get out of town.

SS: This is Louise Jenkins, Mr. Noir. Calling from just outside Tulsa, Oklahoma.

GK: If this is an election campaign and you're looking for dirt'count me out.

SS: I'm a Democrat, Mr. Noir, and in Oklahoma a Democrat IS dirt.

GK: Okay.

SS: This is not exactly a swing state, Mr. Noir. Down here you need a permit to read the New York Times. Anyway, I'm running for reelection to the county board of Paradise County, and we're in the midst of a--

GK: Wait a minute. Paradise County -- in Oklahoma?

SS: The early settlers had a dark sense of humor.

GK: Okay.

SS: Anyway now it's mostly dairy farms owned by guys who were planning to retire and sell their land to a developer to build half-million dollar mansions with marble countertops and that isn't happening. The county board zoned against it. So my opponent wants to open up the county to any and all development, strip malls, quarter-acre lots, trailer parks, you name it.

GK: Zoning. The most volatile subject in politics.

SS: You got that right.

GK: The debate about gay marriage is like an ice-cream social compared to how people feel about local zoning.

SS: My opponent is out to ruin Paradise so he can sell his land and earn a few million and go live someplace else. How soon can you come down? (BRIDGE)

GK: She sounded desperate. And she was willing to pay. So I got on a jet flight to Tulsa, on Okay Airline.

FN (INTERCOM): This is your pilot, Bud. Thanks for flying Okay. Now as you can see, we are carrying some cargo strapped to the wings, and I just want to assure you that that is normal, we do it all the time, and the plane can fly just fine. We'll be making a few stops to deliver that and so our flight time will be approximately 11 hours. (STING, BRIDGE)

GK: Mrs. Jenkins's opponent was a dairy farmer named Orville Fellows. And I went out to visit with him. (CATS MEOWING, BACKGROUND)

TR: Hope you're not from the liberal media, Mr. Noir.

GK: I'm not.

TR: Cause we don't have time for that, do we, Irv?

FN: Nope.

TR: This here's my best friend Irv Manson. Lives over yonder, beyond the creek.

GK: Pleased to meet you, sir.

FN: Pleasure.

TR: We're just farmers who want the right to sell our land, and the media is trying to portray us as a bunch of weirdos and soreheads, and I'm just sick of it. Sick of it! (GUNSHOT)

FN: We're sick of it. Him and me both.

TR: That county board is nothing but a bunch of socialists. Oughta've been driven out years ago. Years ago! (GUN COCKS)

GK: Don't shoot your gun, Mr. Fellows. Thank you.

FN: He's upset. It's terrible. Terrible. (CATS)

GK: So when did you get into cat ranching, Mr. Fellows?

TR: Ten years ago. Or was it twelve?

FN: I think it was twelve.

TR: Twelve years ago.

GK: I see. Ninety-six.

TR: Or was it ninety-two?

FN: Right. It was ninety-two.

TR: When did I meet you?

FN: I moved here in ninety-two.

TR: Then it was ninety-two.

FN: It was the year I moved here from Cincinnati. Ninety-two. February.

TR: Met you when you moved here.

FN: That was in ninety-two. Moved here when me and Lorna got the divorce.

GK: And how did you get into cat ranching?

TR: Ninety-two. I don't know what made me think it was ninety-eight.

FN: You said ninety-six.

GK: How'd you get into cat ranching?

TR: What?

GK: How'd you get into cat ranching? (MEOWS)

FN: I got him into it. He already had about 14 barn cats and I said -- why not make some money off of it?

GK: Right.
TR: Anyway I was in dairy farming for twenty-two years and then one day this cow she steps on my foot and I happened to have a gun in my hand, just like now, and I let her have it and then I saw other cows sort of smirking at me, you know, the way they do, and before I knew it, I was out of dairy and into beef.

FN: I come up and helped him butcher.

TR: So I saw what you can get for cat milk-so that's the direction I went.

GK: So you milk them--

TR: Right.

GK: Isn't that a lot of work?

TR: Used to be, but I designed me a nice cat-sized milking machine and now I just hook em up to it.

FN: Orv is good with machines.

GK: And you're running for the county board.

TR: I am going to fight for the right to do what you want with your land and I am going to fight with every ounce of my strength. The county board voted to make the minimum lot size forty acres and it's out and out robbery. They might as well come around with a gun and (GUNSHOT) --

GK: Mr. Fellows, please.

TR: The goldanged county board is trying to restrict the sale of farmland so as to keep the county rural. I don't want to be rural! I want to move to New York!

FN: Me too. Wanna see some shows.

GK: New York! But you're dairy farmers.

FN: Cat farmers.

GK: You're Oklahoma Republicans.

TR: They need more of us up there. (BRIDGE)

SS: So you talked to Orv and Irv, huh? What'd you find out?

GK: I don't think he wants to be on the county board, Mrs. Jenkins. He wants to move to New York. Why are you brushing up against me, Mrs. Jenkins?


GK: You're brushing up against my arm and you're nuzzling my neck with your nose.

SS: Oh, I didn't realize it. (MMMROWWWW)

GK: You've been drinking that cat milk, haven 't you.

SS: Just a little bit. In my coffee. (MMMRRROWWW) "You're the cream in my coffee."

GK: Cat's milk is powerful stuff, Mrs. Jenkins. You're in heat.

SS: I am drawn to you, Mr. Noir. Touch me. Please. (PFFT)

GK: Please, Mrs. Jenkins. Don't do that.


GK: See-- now you've got a hairball. (STING, BRIDGE)


TR: So you came back, Mr. Noir--

GK: Well, I heard you'd given up your race for county board.
TR: Yeah, me and Irv decided to sell and move to New York and get married.

GK: Married?

FN: Well, there are tax advantages, and I'm a pretty decent cook and we wear the same size clothes and we both like to watch football and we're both Methodists, both conservatives, so I think it might work out.
GK: A same-sex marriage?

TR: Oh, sex has nothing to do with it.

FN: People don't get married for sex, Mr. Noir, it'd be like flying on an airplane because you like salted pretzels. No, people marry for the companionship. And Orv and I make a good pair cause we don't talk much.

TR: I was in New York once. Friendly place. Lots of restaurants. And New York comes right after Oklahoma in the alphabet.

FN: That was how I come to Oklahoma. Moved from Ohio. Just made sense to move on down the alphabet.
TR: He got divorced same year I did, in ninety-two. Isn't that something.

GK: And now you're moving to New York?
TR: Was that ninety-two?

FN: I'm sure it was ninety-two. There was an election that year, right?

TR: Yeah, I met you in June.

FN: She divorced me and I moved here from Cincinnati.

TR: Or was it June of ninety?

FN: Ninety-two is what I remember.

GK: Doesn't matter.

TR: I don't think I got divorced that long ago.

FN: When did Ginny go off with the dancer?

TR: That was after Susie started at OSU.

GK: Okay--
FN: And she graduated in '06.

TR: Right, but she dropped out for two years to go to Costa Rica.

GK: Anyway.

FN: So then it would've been right around 2000.

TR: What was his name? Jeremy?

FN: Who?

TR: The dancer.

FN: Jeffrey.

TR: You're right. It was ninety-two.

GK: So you're thinking of moving to New York?

TR: What?

GK: You're thinking of moving to New York.

TR: That's what I just said.

GK: Yeah, but they don't allow guns in New York City.

TR: You're kidding me.

GK: Very strict gun laws.

FN: In New York?

GK: You can't walk down the street wearing a six-gun. They'll call in a SWAT team and you'll have to take hostages and go down in the basement of a deli and they'll send guys to negotiate with you and it just eats up your whole day.

TR: How can that be? They've got no right to tell a person he can't wear a gun!!!! How can they do that???? That just makes me furious! (GUNSHOTS)

FN: Guess we'll have to find someplace else.
TR: What comes after New York?

FN: North Carolina.

TR: Sounds good to me.

GK: Send me an invitation to the wedding, would ya.

TR: Okay, but it'll probably be held on a hunting trip. You care for wild turkey?

FN: I do a great wild turkey with wild rice and mushrooms.

GK: If I'm around, I'll come.


SS: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets but one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions--..Guy Noir, Private Eye.