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Ruth Harrison, Reference Librarian script
Saturday,
October 29, 2005
Listen
(ORGAN)
Tim Russell: Once again we take you to the hushed reading room of the Herndon County Library for the adventures of Ruth Harrison, Reference Librarian.
Sue Scott: Almost six o'clock, Trent. Time to lock up.
Tom Keith (TEEN): Yes, ma'am.
SS: A shame, but due to cutbacks by illiterate goombas on the city council, we're forced to reduce our hours. So— lock the doors, Trent. I'll turn out the lights.
TK (TEEN): Yes, ma'am. (WOMAN'S FOOTSTEPS AND STOP)
SS: The library is closed now, Mr. Foote. You'll have to pack up now and go.
TR (OLD): Oh really? But I just got here—
SS: Time flies when you're engrossed in a subject like the Civil War—
TR (OLD): Couldn't I have just five more minutes?
SS: We open at nine tomorrow morning, Mr. Foote. I'll see you then. (FOOTSTEPS AND STOP) Yes, Trent? What is it?
TK (TEEN): There's somebody in the subbasement, Miss Harrison. I heard footsteps down there. And voices.
SS: Oh nonsense, Trent— you've been smoking those cigarettes again, haven't you.
TK (TEEN): Honest— I heard someone. We better call the police.
SS: Fiddlesticks. I'll go see for myself. (FOOTSTEPS ON STAIRS) Before the budget cutbacks, we used to be able to afford qualified help too — poor Trent — loyal but he doesn't have the brains of a pop-up toaster — (FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE, DESCENDING) — nobody here on level A— I'll check B — (FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE) Nobody on B, let's see about C — (FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE) Budget cutbacks meant we had to put in 40-watt bulbs too — (FOOTSTEPS) Pretty dim down here— (FOOTSTEPS) Well, D is clear — that just leaves E— (FOOTSTEPS AND STOP) Okay, who's there? Is somebody hiding behind the stacks? Don't make me come and get you. (PAUSE, THEN A FEW FOOTSTEPS) I can hear you. Come out. Now. (SCRAPE OF FEET SHUFFLING, OFF) Come out here. Let me see you. (SCRAPE OF FEET) Well, for heaven's sakes. Robert Louis Stevenson— what are you doing?
TR (LIGHT SCOTTISH): I'm moving some of my books from storage up to the reading room where people can read them.
SS: Mr. Stevenson— why?
TR (LIGHT SCOTTISH): I want to be read! That's why.
SS: People read you. We have several copies of "Treasure Island" upstairs—
TR (LIGHT SCOTTISH): It's the abridged edition. Abridged!
SS: It's what people want.
TR (LIGHT SCOTTISH): It's not what I wrote. And what about "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"?
SS: It was made into a movie. Several of them.
TR (LIGHT SCOTTISH): Terrible movies.
SS: Mr. Stevenson — I sympathize, I really do, but— life moves on. Who is this?
Garrison Keillor: I'm a historian. Simms. James Frankfort Simms.
SS: I never heard of you—
GK: I know. I died in 1959. The Times didn't even print an obituary.
SS: What did you write, Mr. Simms?
GK: I wrote a definitive six-volume history of American missionary work in China from 1814-1926.
SS: Is that what you have in your arms?
GK: Yes. Nobody's read it since 1947.
SS: Put it down, Mr. Simms.
GK: One reader. That's all I want.
SS: We can't force our patrons to read the books—
GK: I spent my life writing that history.
SS: And I hope you enjoyed it.
GK: Please— just let me put it upstairs for one week— next to the DVDs — that's all I ask— one week.
SS: Look. I thought that God arranged a lot of activities for you people in the afterlife. Am I wrong about that? Shouldn't you be off somewhere praising and kneeling in adoration? Who is this in the white dress?
TR (WOMAN WHISPER): It's me.
SS: No.
TR: Yes.
SS: Emily. I am astonished. You—! You're one of the most popular poets ever. Everybody knows your work! "Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me" and so forth. When you google Emily Dickinson, you get millions of hits. What's your problem?
TR: They all read my poems but nobody reads the novel I wrote. "Savage Love".
SS: Emily—
TR: Why don't you put my novel out on the shelves?
SS: Because— it would destroy your reputation.
TR: I don't care.
SS: The scene in the jungle, under the waterfall—
TR: It's the best thing I ever wrote.
SS: It's too explicit.
TR: You're embarrassed by the idea of a naked woman who happens to enjoy —
SS: I don't want to talk about it.
TR: Something in my book touched a chord, didn't it. (RAPID FOOTSTEPS)
SS: I've got to go.
TR: I know plenty about you.
SS: Good. — And I know about you. — And I think Elizabeth Barrett Browning was a better poet—
TR: You've got to be kidding— : That wimp??
SS: Put down that pistol, Miss Dickinson.
(GUNSHOTS)
SS: (RUNNING, BREATHING HARD) You people go back where you came from! Hear me??? (RICOCHET) I expect to find you gone in the morning!!! (SLAM STEEL DOOR. SS STANDS, BREATHING HARD FOR A COUPLE BEATS) I've been in this library too long. I've got to put in for a sabbatical. (A FEW FOOTSTEPS, THEN SHE STOPS) Wait— those idiots cut out all the sabbatical money. Damn. (FOOTSTEPS, THEN STOP) I guess I'm going to have to get me a pistol.
(THEME)
TR: Join us again in the near future as we continue the adventures of RUTH HARRISON, REFERENCE LIBRARIAN. (MUSIC OUT)
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