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MRI (THEME) TR (BIG PRETENTIOUS): How My Week Was Spent……an essay
in sound by the beloved uncle of the airwaves, the golden-voiced boy orator
of the plains, the poor man's Proust, the Maupassant of the Upper Mississippi----
SS: You really need to go see somebody about that. GK: Maybe it'll just go away. WHOOP. SS: It's like whooping cough but without the cough. (GK WHOOP)
Maybe you've got the yips. GK: What are the yips? WHOOP SS: The yips are related to the jim-jams and the heebie-jeebies.
You get them when you golf and you're trying to make a long putt. Or even
a short putt. You get them when you're trying to take a very important
math test that'll determine whether you go to Princeton or go to the vo-tech
for a two-year degree in motel cleaning. You get them when you're lying
to a grand jury about where you were last Wednesday. (GK WHOOP) It's called
the yips. Go see somebody. (BRIDGE) GK: So I went to a neurologist. TR (GERMAN): There is something very TIC strange about your eyes.
TIC. Follow my finger with your TIC eyes. Up here. Down there. Over here.
TIC. Okay. Now stand on one foot with your eyes closed. (GK WHOOP) Was
that you or me? You. Good. TIC. Close your eyes and go rrrrrrrrmmm rrrrrrrrmmmm.
GK: WHOOP TR (GERMAN): No, go rrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmm rrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmm. TIC GK: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmm. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmm.
TIC. TR (GERMAN): Just as I thought. We'll send you in for an MRI.
(BRIDGE) GK: So I went in for an MRI, a Mental Resources Inventory. You
put on a hospital gown and go into a room with a machine the size of a
mini-bus. (FOOTSTEPS, BIG STEEL DOOR CLANGS SHUT) And they have you lie
down on a narrow steel bed which then retracts into a narrow tunnel in
the machine, like the tongue of a frog going back into the mouth and you
are the bug. SS (ON TINNY INTERCOM): Can you hear me? GK: (LOTS O' REVERB) Yes? SS (ON TINNY INTERCOM): I need you to be perfectly still for the
next half-hour, okay? GK (REVERB): Okay. SS (ON TINNY INTERCOM): Lie perfectly still. GK (REVERB): Okay. SS (INTERCOM): We do the M.R.I. by taking a scan of your brain
using sound waves, and you'll hear several series of sounds that will
sound like drum solos. Okay? GK (REVERB): Fine. SS (INTERCOM): And we need you go stay perfectly still. GK (REVERB): Can I breathe? SS (INTERCOM): If you need to, yes. Here comes the first series.
(DRUM SOLO) GK (NO REVERB): I lay there on my narrow bed inside the steel
tube and I couldn't help but think of torture. TR (NAZI): You will talk. We have ways of making you talk. We
will slide you into a slender metal drum and you will stay there unable
to move and we will subject you to a drum solo--- SS (INTERCOM): Okay. We're ready for the next scan. How are we
doing? GK (REVERB): We? SS (INTERCOM): Are you doing okay? GK (REVERB): Fine. SS (INTERCOM): Here's the next series of sound waves now. (BONGO SOLO) GK (NO REVERB): I imagined that I was a child trapped in a tunnel,
in a cave-in. TR (FATUOUS TV ANCHOR): This is Chuck Clifford Channel Five Eyewitness
News live from the scene where 11-year-old Timmy Thompson is trapped in
the storm sewer and rescue teams are working round the clock to rescue
him. Here's Timmy's mom here ---- Mrs. Thompson, what feelings are going
through your mind right now, knowing that your son is 250 feet down below
the ground trapped in a tiny space, undoubtedly experiencing panic to
a degree unknown to most of us, hungry, thirsty, cold --- what are your
thoughts at this point? (SS SOBBING) This is Chuck Clifford, Channel Five
Eyewitness News, and now back to you, Jim and Trish. GK (NO REVERB): I had so many thoughts lying there inside the
M.R.I. machine. Thoughts of being a human cannonball in the circus. For
a moment I imagined that I was on a submarine. TR: (SONAR PINGS) Periscope up. (WHINE OF PERISCOPE RAISING. THUNK)
It's a German destroyer. Passing directly overhead. Engines off! (REPEAT
COMMAND) Periscope down! (PERISCOPE DOWN) We're going to have to sit here
while he passes overhead and I don't want anybody to move a muscle. Don't
even breathe. Or we're all dead men. (FAINTLY, BOAT ENGINE PASSES OVERHEAD,
THEN PASSES AGAIN) He's dropping depth charges. (BIG BOOMS) (CREAK OF
METAL STRAIN, DRIPPING) Easy, men. Easy. (MORE DRIPPING) GK: And then I imagined that I was a human sperm waiting inside
the tube. One guy in an army of millions of sperm getting ready to make
the charge. SS: Okay, men, let me tell you how it's going to be. There's going
to be a lot of motion and bouncing around and it may get fairly violent
so hang onto each other, and you may hear loud cries, but don't worry.
It won't last long. It'll be all over in about 30 seconds and then you'll
feel a tremendous whoosh, and all of you will shoot out in about four
or five waves, and that's when I need you to start swimming. Kick those
tails of yours, that's what they're for, and don't give up. Don't give
up. Other sperm will be giving up all around you, guys will be falling
by the wayside, but you keep going as long as you can. Aim for the egg.
You'll see it up ahead, all shiny and white ---- put your head down and
aim for the egg! (FADING) Aim for the egg! Aim for the egg! GK: I'd never gotten the chance to lie in a long narrow tube before.
It was a first for me. And then there was one more drum solo….. (PERCUSSION SOLO) SS (INTERCOM): Good. We're all done. (MOTORIZED SOUND) GK: And out I came. A fascinating experience. The Mental Resources
Inventory. If you ever have the chance to get an M.R.I., take it, you'll
learn a lot about yourself and about claustrophobia. As for the test results,
they looked at the brain scan and didn't find anything, and my case of
the whoops was cleared up by personal counseling from a lady named Evelyn.
SS: Okay, you listen to me, you spoiled little snot. The only
reason you're whooping is to get attention. Isn't it? Yes, it is. And
now if you know what's good for you, you're going to just plain stop.
And I mean it. You whoop once more, I'll whup you one and give you something
to whoop about, believe you me. You just cut it out. You understand? GK: I understand. SS: You sure? GK: I'm sure. SS: Good. Now go home and don't let me find you coming back here,
okay? GK: Okay. Anyway, that's how---- TR (BIG PRETENTIOUS): My Week Was Spent. (BIG CHORDS, AND OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2003 |
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Old Sweet Songs: A Prairie Home Companion 1974-1976
Lovingly selected from the earliest archives of A Prairie Home Companion, this heirloom collection represents the music from earliest years of the now legendary show: 1974–1976. With songs and tunes from jazz pianist Butch Thompson, mandolin maestro Peter Ostroushko, Dakota Dave Hull and the first house band, The Powdermilk Biscuit Band (Adam Granger, Bob Douglas and Mary DuShane).
