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 FADE)
GK: It was a dark and stormy night and I was tracking the lightning on my new Weather Service App (THUNDER, LIGHTNING) and lightning strikes were hitting up on Cathedral Hill and the homes of the privileged, which gave me some satisfaction ---- me, a renter in the Shropshire Arms, which is one step above the Union Gospel Mission, thinking of rich people cowering in their beds as a million volts of electricity runs down their drainpipes. I was in a good mood. I turned on the radio and - (HM SINGS:
Hey Little Jack Horner
Why you sitting in that corner,
Eating an Eskimo pie:
Why stick in your thumb?
That's what I call dumb.
Look, it just dripped on your tie.
(KNOCKS)
GK: Yeah, come in, the door's unlocked.
(DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS)
TR: Guy Noir?
GK: Who're you?
TR: Jack Sprat's the name.
GK: Jack Sprat?
TR: Don't say it, okay?
GK: Okay.
TR: I've gone through life being made fun of and I'm sick of it.
GK: Okay.
TR: Jack Sprat could eat no fat, and so on and so forth. -----
GK: Right.
TR: How many times you suppose that's been quoted to me, huh? Take a wild guess.
GK: Hundreds.
TR: Tens of thousands.
GK: Must be tough.
TR: It drives me crazy.
GK: Well, I wasn't going to----
TR: You say that but I'll bet you would've. You look like the sort of person who would.
GK: You mind if I ask you a question?
TR: What?
GK: Why don't you change your name?
TR: How can you say that?
GK: It just stands to reason.
TR: You don't know me. You don't know anything about me.
GK: Well, if your name gives you such a problem, why not change it.
TR: You know how many times people have asked me that?
GK: A lot?
TR: Thousands.
GK: And what do you tell them?
TR: Mind your own business. Anyway. Change my name to what? Jack Peterson. Would that make you happy? Huh? Some common name like that?
GK: Look, you were the one who brought this up. I didn't.
TR: I tell them, it'd break my father's heart if I changed my name. You see, I'm Jack Sprat Junior.
GK: Uh huh. And where is your father?
TR: Why do you ask?
GK: Just asking.
TR: He's dead.
GK: Okay. Sorry.
TR: Me changing my name would dishonor his memory. It'd be a disgrace to the Sprat family.
GK: So you were close to your father?
TR: What is this? Psychotherapy? I didn't come here for that.
GK: What'd you come here for?
TR: I need some quarters for the parking meter. You got change?
GK: You came all the way up to the 12th floor for change?
TR: They were out of change in the coffee shop.
GK: Here's three quarters. Here. Go.
TR: You got one more? Then I'll give you a dollar.
GK: Don't want your dollar. Go.
TR: Well, I didn't come up here to panhandle 75 cents from you.
GK: Just take it and go.
TR: I'm not a beggar.
GK: I'm paying you to leave. Okay?
TR: You don't need to be unpleasant about it.
GK: Just go.
TR: Okay.
GK: Leave.
TR: I'm leaving.
GK: Leave faster.
TR: What's your problem?
GK: You.
TR: Why me?
GK: You just irk me, that's all. You always go around wasting people's time like this?
TR: Okay, that's it, I don't want your quarters. (SFX) There. Good riddance. I don't care if I do get a parking ticket, it'll be worth it not to be beholden to you.
GK: Just go.
TR: I'm gone. Bye.
GK: Goodbye. The door is there.
TR: Boy, some people -----
GK: Are you a member of the Tea Party by any chance?
TR: Okay. That's it. You make fun of my name and now you attack my political beliefs.
GK: Go. Beat it. Out. (DOOR SLAM) (DOOR OPEN)
TR: And I'm never coming back. (DOOR SLAM)
GK: I hope not. (DOOR OPEN)
TR: What'd you say?
GK: Beat it. (DOOR SLAM) (BRIDGE) Not a great way to start one's day and I turned the radio on, hoping to hear some old-fashioned love ballads, and instead there was a lot of sort of post-modern stuff. (MUSIC, HM SINGS:
Rockabye baby
Hear the wind blow
The cradle will rock
And we shall have snow,
And what will my baby do then?
He will lie in my arms
To keep himself warm
And Mama will bring him upstairs
Poor thing.
And Mama will sing,
Poor thing.
(BRIDGE)
SS: Hello?
GK: Yes?
SS: Mr. Noir?
GK: Right. What can I do for you, Miss----
SS: Muffet.
GK: Miss Muffet.
SS: Right.
GK: As in Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey?
SS: Sat on a what?
GK: A tuffet.
SS: What's that?
GK: I have no idea. Maybe I don't want to know.
SS: Then why did you say it?
GK: It's a nursery rhyme.
SS: I never heard it before.
GK: Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet?? You never heard that?
SS: No. You are very strange, you know that?
GK: It's a very famous nursery rhyme.
SS: Not to me it isn't.
GK: Where did you grow up?
SS: What business is it of yours?
GK: Never mind. Forget that I said it.
SS: I'm trying to. And what are curds and whey?
GK: A dairy product. Never mind. What can I do for you?
SS: I have a problem.
GK: Okay.
SS: I am addicted to email. I check my email about every five minutes. Sometimes more often. I need help.
GK: Have you seen a psychologist?
SS: No. Why?
GK: Well, it seems like you have an obsessive compulsive streak. Maybe a psychologist can help.
SS: I doubt it.
GK: What do you want me to do?
SS: Well, right now I have an overwhelming desire to open up my cellphone and go online and get my email.
GK: Are you expecting something important?
SS: No.
GK: Okay. What do you want me to do?
SS: Stop me from doing it.
GK: From opening your email.
SS: Yes.
GK: Now?
SS: Now. (THEY STRUGGLE, SHE YELLS AT HIM. SHE BITES HIM)
GK: OUCH!!!
SS: It's my email, let me see it.
GK: You told me to stop you.
SS: I didn't mean it.
(THEY STRUGGLE. SHE HITS HIM, ONCE, TWICE, THREE TIMES. AND SUBSIDES, BREATHING HEAVILY)
SS: Okay. I feel better now. Sorry. You okay?
GK: Aside from a bloody nose and some scratches and bruises, I'm fine. My gosh.
SS: Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.
GK: I just wonder if there isn't some other way that we could-----
SS: Oh oh. It's coming on again. I can feel it. Don't let me get the phone.
GK: Please---- just calm down----- take a deep breath, Miss Muffet----
SS: I can't help it. GIVE ME THE PHONE. GIVE IT TO ME. HAND IT OVER. (THEY STRUGGLE. SHE HITS HIM WITH HER PURSE THREE TIMES, HARD) I have to have it. Come on. Give me back my phone. You creep. Take this. (SLAP) And that (SLAP).
GK: You know, I'm starting to regret having gotten into this.
SS: (SETTLING DOWN) Okay. Okay. I'm better. I'm over it. Thank you. I really appreciate it.
GK: Do these spells come over you this often? I mean, I think I may have a concussion.
SS: Facebook.
GK: No.
SS: Facebook. Gotta check Facebook. Give me the phone. Gotta see how many people liked my post. Come on. Give. (THEY STRUGGLE. SHE WHAPS HIM WITH A BELT, HITS HIM IN THE JAW, KICKS HIM) (FINALLY SETTLES DOWN) Okay. Okay. Thanks. I'm okay. I'm okay. (BREATHING HARD) O MY GOD!!!!!!!!
GK: WHAT IS IT?
SS: A SPIDER. (SCREAMS, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, DOOR SLAM)
GK: A little spider came and sat down beside her and off she ran. Leaving her phone there. (PHONE RING) (RING) (RING) PICK UP) Yeah?
FN (ON PHONE): This the Muffet residence?
GK: Yes.
FN (ON PHONE): This is Yon Yonson.
GK: Who?
FN (ON PHONE): Yon Yonson. I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumber mill there.
GK: What's the problem?
FN (ON PHONE): Whenever I go out, the people always shout, There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.
GK: That makes no sense.
FN (ON PHONE): That's what I tell them. I tell them, My name is Yon Yonson, I live in Wisconsin. I work in a lumbermill there.
GK: What do you want me to do about it?
FN (ON PHONE): Did someone put a sign on my back that says John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt?
GK: I would have no idea.
FN (ON PHONE): Can I come in and have you take a look?
GK: No.
FN (ON PHONE): Okay. Sorry to bother you.
GK: That's okay. (BRIDGE) An odd day, talking to troubled people, and listening to the radio.
HM (SINGS):
You heard of the woman who lived in a shoe;
That was me and I lived there with you.
We had some broth and two slices of bread
I pulled the cloth up to your head
Did what I ought to and went off to bed.
TR (FRENCH SPIEL)
GK: Frere Jacque?
TR (FRENCH)
GK: Listen. Dormez-vous? Okay? Sonnez les matines,
TR: Eh???
GK: Sonnez les matines. Je te plumerai la tete.
TR: Eh la tete?
GK: Eh la tete.
TR: Eh le bec?
GK: Eh le bec, et la tete, Alouette!
TR: Alouette?
GK: Oui.
TR: Gentille Alouette?
GK: Oui.
TR: Ahhh. Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong.
GK: Exactly.
(THEME)
TR: 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