APHC: Saturday, November 23, 2002

End of the World
Saturday, November 23, 2002
Listen

(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott; TR: Tim Russell; FN: Fred Newman)

(MUSIC, GRIEG)

(COUPLE LYING IN BED, READING, LATE AT NIGHT)

GK: I wish she'd come home.

SS: What time is it?

GK: One o'clock.

SS: What time did you tell her to be home?

GK: I thought you gave her a time.

SS: You were the one who said goodbye to them.

GK: I thought you told her midnight.

SS: Well, she'll be home soon. They're probably at somebody's house watching television.

GK: He looked so weird.

SS: Kids that age try to be.

GK: He looked like an axe murderer.

SS: They all go for that axe murderer look nowadays. You know how it is.

GK: I don't either know how it is. Why couldn't he speak? He just looked at the floor like he was a prisoner of war or something. I don't know what she sees in him.

SS: Steffi thinks he's a poet and a bird with a wounded wing.

GK: She told you that?

SS: I read her diary.

GK: Oh. ---- Really?

SS: Of course. I'd do anything for my child, including espionage.

GK: So does she seem okay?

SS: Yes. Relax.

GK: I'm trying.

SS: Other dads have gone through this, so can you.

GK: Okay.

SS: He's not so different from what you were like when you were seventeen.

GK: That's what worries me.

SS: Take a deep breath. Relax.

GK: I will. And then I'll call the police.

(PAUSE)

SS: What's this music?

GK: Grieg.

SS: Grieg?

GK: Yes. What're you reading?

SS: A book.

GK: About what?

SS: The end of the world.

GK: Oh. ----

SS: It's interesting.

GK: I'm thinking about setting the alarm for 4 a.m. to see those Leonid meteor showers.

SS: Oh.

GK: They say it's supposed to be incredible----

SS: They also say it's supposed to be cloudy.

GK: Do you mind if I set the alarm for 4?

SS: It's almost one o'clock.

GK: I know. I'd just hate to go through the week thinking that I slept through something as amazing as that.

SS: (RUSTLE OF BEDCLOTHES) Where you going?

GK: (OFF) It's not cloudy. It's absolutely clear. Come here. Look.

SS: At what?

GK: (OFF) The stars. Trillions of stars.

SS: I've seen them already. ---- They're not parked down there, are they?

GK: No. ---- That's Orion there. See it? The belt, the knife----

SS: That's not Orion, that's Diana. Goddess of the hunt. Those four stars there----- That's her bra strap.

GK: Sure makes you believe there's got to be a purpose to all of this. Doesn't it?

SS: No. Not really.

GK: You don't look up at the stars and think there's got to be a Plan for all of us?

SS: I don't. No.

GK: You don't?

SS: No. You look up and think there's a guy named God with a Guy's Plan. It's like a big project in his garage and you want to go over and look. I look up and I see trillions of stars racing around ---- colliding ---- an intergalactic demolition derby, thermonuclear explosions, suns and planets and moons getting fried, and someday one wild star is going to blast into our sun like a billion H-bombs and you and I and the house and Minnesota and the whales and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and all of Edward Grieg's recordings will become a cloud of carbon molecules drifting out into the blackness of outer space.

(THEY LISTEN TO THE MUSIC)

GK: You really know how to get a guy excited, you know that?

SS: What are you turning the light off for?

GK: You know what that does to me, hearing you talk about the end of the world----

SS: You love it, don't you----

GK: I do. You're so sexy when you get ominous----

SS: Mmmmmmm. Pretty sexy yourself----

GK: Tell me more.

SS: About what?

GK: You know.

SS: You're getting excited, aren't you.

GK: We old fundamentalists really have a thing about Armageddon---

SS: You're getting excited----

GK: I am. Keep talking.

SS: Probably the astrophysicists have worked out the math already and they know exactly when the world's going to end.

GK: Yes---- yes-----

SS: And when the word gets around, the market is going to drop like a rock. The Dow Jones'll go down to around 8 or 9. Total absenteeism. They'll be trying to give away lottery tickets. Literature will be dead. Writers will be wondering, "Why'd I write all that junk? What was that about?" Billy Graham is going to be so happy.

GK: I can't stand it---- kiss me----

SS: End of the world. Biggest news story of all time. And also the last. Non-stop live coverage on all channels. The Sunday New York Times will weigh about a hundred pounds. They'll be printing everybody's obituary.

GK: Hold me. Kiss me.

SS: I'm here.

GK: Oh darling----

SS: Oh Bob----

GK: I love you----

SS: Oh Bob-----

(KNOCKS ON DOOR)

TR (MUFFLED, GIRL): Mom? Dad?

GK: Yes? (DOOR OPEN, SLIGHTLY)

TR (GIRL): You guys still awake?

GK: Yes----

TR (GIRL): How come it's dark in here?