APHC: Saturday, October 12, 2002

Guy Noir
Saturday, October 12, 2002
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(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott; TR: Tim Russell; TK: Tom Keith)

(GUY NOIR THEME)

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. (MUSIC UP)

GK: It was October and the northern hemisphere had tilted away from the sun like a guy who goes down his front walk and steps on a roller skate and suddenly all the women you used to look forward to seeing in t-shirts and shorts were coming around in ski sweaters and down pants and accessorizing with jumper cables. Meanwhile, with the economy still in the toilet, the President was all fascinated with Iraq and how to spend a couple hundred billion to get the man who shot at his pa. Business was so bad, I'd hired a consultant. A guy named Lyle Liquid. (MUSIC OUT) (CREAK OF CHAIR, RUSTLE OF PAPERS)

TR: I brought you a computer, Mr. Noir. That's number one. And number two, you got to reposition yourself as a security consultant. Security is where everything's headed.

GK: Well, not me. I'm a guy you hire to see if your kid is studying chemistry at college or studying pocket billiards. I'll find out if your prospective son-in-law really did go to Yale in New Haven or did he go to Yahoo Business College upstairs above Hamburger Heaven.

TR: How about you call yourself Certified Information Agent? C.I.A.

GK: I don't know as I want to borrow their reputation, frankly. The C.I.A. is a lot of guys who can tell you if it rained the day before yesterday.

TR: Well, anyway here's your computer. I brought you an operating manual. It's easy to figure out. A child could do it.

GK: Thanks. (MUSIC BRIDGE) (TURNING PAGES)

GK: "Desktop" ---- what's this? "Boot up your desktop----" This is the top of my desk. (BANGS ON DESK). You better start up or I'll put my boot up your wazoo. (PHONE RING, PICK UP) Yeah. Noir here.

TK: (ON PHONE) Mr. Noir, I feel so stupid asking you to do this, but ---- I'm in love with a fantastic woman who's kind and good and honest and---- I just need to put my mind to rest and find out if she has a criminal record.

GK: Okay.

TK: I feel so guilty for even wondering about it.

GK: Don't.

TK: It's just that she's so quiet and so polite and so wonderful and, you know----

GK: I know.

TK: Everytime someone is arrested for a heinous crime---

GK: Exactly.

TK: They ask the neighbors what the heinous person was like.

GK: Right.

TK: And they're always quiet and polite and wonderful.

GK: Right.

TK: I just want to make sure. (MUSIC)

GK: I was just getting back to the stupid computer and figuring out why you have to click on Start to shut the thing off when (SEXY ACCORDION) a woman walked in. And suddenly I forgot about computers. (ACCORDION HEAVY BREATHING) She was tall and dark and she had a sinuous catlike quality that made me feel I was back at the Bijou, in a loge seat with a box of Milk Duds, watching Ava Gardner in "Suddenly The Dark-Eyed Stranger." She was wearing a low-cut blouse that I tried hard not to look at and black glasses with lenses the size of a postage stamp. And jeans that were so tight, I could read the label on her underwear. It said, "Wash in cold water with like colors. Tumble dry low. Do not iron."

SS: My name is Felicia Holloway, Mr. Noir. I believe a gentleman spoke to you on the phone about me minutes ago----

GK: Oh?

SS: A gentleman suspicious of my possible criminal record.

GK: I don't recall having that conversation.

SS: Don't be cute, Noir. Cuteness is not cute in a man your age. If you're doing a background on me, don't dig too deep, if you know what's good for you. And don't be fooled by these eyelashes. If you expose my past, I'll bounce you off the wall and your lower back will never be the same again. (STING)

GK: I was about to throw myself in her arms and plead for mercy, when---- (BIG WOOD CRUNCH)

TR: (ARABIC GIBBERISH)

GK: A man in a burnoose with a scimitar burst through the door.

TR: (ARABIC GIBBERISH)

SS: Oh yeah? Well, try this on for size, Muhammad--- (SS SHARP TAE KWON DO CRY. TR OOOOFFFF. CRUNCH. SS MORE SUSTAINED TAE KWON DO CRY. TR ALARM. SS EFFORT. BODY FALLING, OVERTURNING TABLE, KNOCKING OFF OBJECTS, HUBCAP SPIN. TR GROAN. SS HARD BREATHING)

GK: You hit him pretty hard, lady. (TR GROAN) But according to the billfold, his name isn't Muhammad. It's Harold. He's a Shriner from Toledo.

SS: He was speaking Arabic!

GK: No, he just had his mouth full.

SS: You've got to keep your mouth shut, Noir. If you don't---- I'll knock you down and tie you up and stuff my underwear in your mouth.

GK: The underwear you tumble dry low?

SS: Why you----- (SS TAE KWON DO CRY. SHE LEAPS, SHE KICKS. GK OOOOFFF) (MUSIC)

GK: (GROANING) Oh why am I this business? (COMPUTER BEEPING, ALARM) Oh shut up. (BEEPING CONTINUES) What button do I have to press? (KEYS) Control Alt Delete? (LONG BEEP) What's this? "Error 643 has occurred." (KEYS) (BEEP) "Your computer has performed an illegal function." What illegal function are you talking about? (SHAKES COMPUTER) Answer me! What illegal function? (SHAKES, LOOSE PARTSW) You want to see an illegal function? I'll show you illegal function. (SHAKES, LOOSE PARTS, CRUNCH) How about that? You want to see more? Here. (HE THROWS COMPUTER AGAINST WALL) How about that? (HE STOMPS ON COMPUTER) (PHONE RING, PICK UP) Yeah. Noir, here. I'm just doing some reprogramming.

TK (ON PHONE): Hi. You were going to look into my girlfriend's criminal record, remember? You find out anything?

GK: You've got nothing to fear, sir. She's quite a lady. Strong. She was just in my office with a guy named Harold.

TK: (DISTRAUGHT) Harold??? She never told me about a Harold??? Harold!!!

GK: Don't let it get you down.

TK: Can you find out who this Harold is?

GK: I already did. He's an Aquarius with Scorpio rising, born in the year of the Muskrat. He's a barber in Toledo. Has a history of depression and early male-pattern baldness and he collects autographed pictures of show business bus drivers. That's about it.

TK: What else?

GK: There is no else. Believe me, if life is a beach, then Harold is driftwood. Forget about him.

TK: I can't. I need to know more. (MUSIC)

GK: It took me awhile to say goodbye to him and head down to the Five Spot. (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE. CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS) Hey, Jimmy.

TR: Hey, Guy. How's everything going? I see you got a new suit.

GK: No, it's an old suit. Just got it dry-cleaned.

TR: Oh. I always thought it was a tie-dye.

GK: No. Navy blue.

TR: What'll you have, Guy? the usual? Martini
with a soybean?

GK: Naw. How about orange juice?

TR: No juniper juice today? Gin always was your escape button, Guy.

GK: No, thanks.

TR: Okay. One jus l'orange coming up. (OFF) So where'd you get the black eye, Guy? Walk into a door?

GK: Got smacked by a woman, Jimmy. She came on to me, tried to get me to go home with her, I said no, and she hit me with a sucker punch. Simple as that. Women. They've been after me all my life. (THEME)