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.


GK: It was the first week of December and I was in New

York. I'd gotten a job offer, to go and promote a Broadway

show, "Our Town: The Musical" ---- and also I needed to

get away from my cleaning lady who was driving me crazy.

She walked around the office dusting and humming to


it would've been okay if she'd just hummed something but

no ---- and then she'd be vacuuming (SFX) and talking on

the phone (DM: Oh yeah? Uh huh............

Right............. Sure.......... Yeah.........Oh

really.......You don't say.......Well, isn't that

something.......Right.........No, I'm with

you..............Yeah..........That's right.) and it just got on

my nerves to the point where I had to get out. And then the

phone call.

TR: Mr. Noir? It's Mike Montaigne here, Montaigne

Productions ----- listen, I got a ten-million-dollar musical

opening in three days and word has it that the critic from

the Times is going to give it a real torpedo of a review. I

need you to change his mind. How soon can you get out

here? Money, no object. (BRIDGE)

GK: So I boarded a Broadway Airlines flight from St. Paul


FN: Hello, this is Ricky your pilot and all I want to say


Fly me to New York and let me drift among the clouds

Fly me over Cleveland, let me see what it's about.

In other words. Let's fly east.

In other words. Keep it steady.

Fill the plane with song and

Tell us jokes and make us smile

Turn the autopilot on,

Come dancing down the aisle

In other words, let's have fun.

In other words, what the hey? (BRIDGE)

GK: "Our Town: The Musical" was playing at the Fiasco

Theater on West 47th, and I managed to sit through most of

it, until after Emily's death, Mrs. Gibbs leads the deceased

in a big dance number.


We are the dead of Grovers Corners

Making merry in the cemetery

So lighten up, all you mourners

It's cold and damp, sir,

Here in New Hampshire,

We are dead and our graves are dug

But that doesn't mean we can't cut a rug.

So scrape off the rot and rise from the stones

And let's----- shake----- our bones!!!!!!!!!!!



GK: I left and it was clear that the show was going to tank,

but I'd been paid to make sure the Times gave it a rave

review, so that's what I did. I found him walking up

Seventh Avenue toward Times Square (TRAFFIC.



FN: Awww shudup, wouldja.

TR: Merry Christmas!

FN: Poor excuse for a Santa, you are---- anybody ever

show you how to ring a bell? (FOOTSTEPS, TRAFFIC.)

SS GIRL: Chestnuts, sir? Hot chestnuts? A sack for a


FN: I get enough stale chestnuts going to theater, don't

need yours.

SS GIRL: How about a cup of warm cider?

FN: Get away from me. Leave me alone.


TR (MINN): Excuse me. Can you tell me where 42nd

Street is?

FN: What am I? Your personal guide? Is there a sign on my

hat that says, "Information"? No. There is not. Fortysecond

street is right there. Wake up.

TR (MINN): Thank you, sir.

FN: Bah. Humbug. (BRIDGE)

GK: I considered mood-altering drugs but I didn't know

what the right dosage would be for someone as sour as he,

and I went into a bar called Joey's to think it over (BAR

AMBIENCE) and ordered a ginger ale and I was accosted

by a beautiful woman.

DM: Excuse me, sir.

GK: One is accosted so seldom by any woman anymore----


DM: I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm new to the city and

I'm looking for my brother. I'm supposed to meet him

somewhere around here.

GK: She was tall and it took a long time to look at her and

it was worth the effort. I looked at her twice, just to make

sure I didn't miss anything.

DM: I'm sure you're very busy, but I need your help, sir.

GK: You're an actor, aren't you. You came to New York

with a dream of getting into theater and you're going to

stay with your brother until you can land a part in a

Broadway show and grab the brass ring that leads to fame

and fortune.

DM: Not on your life. Unemployment in the theater is

somewhere right around 98%. No, my boyfriend and I are

partners in the Penelope Applicable Preparation


GK: At the mention of a boyfriend, I felt a cold chill.

So tell me about your boyfriend-----

SS (DEEP): I don't have one, that's why I'm sitting in this


GK: I wasn't talking to you lady. I was talking to her.

SS (DEEP): Sorry. No need to yell.

DM: He waited on me at a shoestore. I was looking for a

pair of slippers.

GK: Glass?

DM: Leather. He took my foot in his hand and the way he

slipped it into that shoe ----I knew that he adored me.

SS (DEEP): My husband Bob bought me a pair of theme

underwear once but I don't know what he meant by it.

GK: Would you mind? I can't believe that you're not an

actor. Let me hear you recite a poem. A love poem.

SS (DEEP): My, you get right to the point, don't you.

DM: I used to know that poem that begins, " Let me not to

the marriage of true minds

admit impediments.

GK: Love is not love

which alters when it alteration finds,

or bends with the remover to remove.

DM: Oh no, it is an ever fixed mark

that looks on tempests and is never shaken.

It is the star to every wandering bark

whose depth's unknown although its height be taken.

GK: You know that poem well.

DM: At Piscacadawadaquoddymoggin High School we

were required to memorize poems.

GK: Piscacadawadaquoddymoggin. On the Penobscot


DM: Exactly.

GK: My aunt Persis used to live there. That's where you

make the preparation?

DM: Yes. Penelope Applicable Preparation ---- its made

from pumpkins, peapods, pipewort, protoplasmic peachpits,

pipetted poppyseeds, purple peppers, and pre-printed


GK: I'm sorry. What was that again?

DM: Pumpkins, peapods, pipewort, protoplasmic

peachpits, pipetted poppyseeds, peppercorn, and preprinted

papyrus. Cures palpitations, pimples, populism,

pulpitry, priapism, impropriety, dilated pupils, perspiration

due to plumpness, purposelessness, purpuric dermatosis,

and the propensity for pomposity.

SS (DEEP): What are you people talking about?

GK: It's a tonic.

DM: A preparation.

SS (DEEP): Well, I'm not going to need any where I'm

going. I'm off to Palm Springs. Bought myself a brand new

Porsche. I told Bob: thirty-seven years of marriage and I

need a little room to grow. I've been bored out of my gourd

for the past thirty-five.

GK: I wish you'd tell it to someone else.

SS (DEEP): I'm telling it to everyone, mister.

GK: So where are you supposed to meet your brother?

DM: At the New York Times. I figured it was near Times


GK: He works at the Times?

DM: He's a typesetter.

SS (DEEP): Got my Porsche out front and she's pointed

south, mister.

GK: I'm too old for romance, lady.

SS (DEEP): It's Christmas. You just pick out a star that

looks good to you, and you follow it.

GK: Take this to your brother, kid. It's a rewrite of the

review of "Our Town: The Musical" -----

DM: And you're the reviewer?

GK: I am now. Yes.

DM: "Our Town: The Musical" lights up the Great White

Way with a wit and verve seldom seen in a Broadway

production." And that's true?

GK: There's no show like it. None.

SS (DEEP): Last chance at Palm Springs.

GK: Merry Christmas, kid. Hope the applicable preparation

business goes well. What was in it again? Peachpits and

peapods and purple pepper----

DM: And preprinted papyrus. And pumpkins and paprika.


TR: A dark night in the city that keeps its secrets, but one

guy is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent

questions----Guy Noir, Private Eye.