(PHONE RINGS THREE TIMES. PICKUP)
FN (ELECTRONIC): Hello. You have reached the voice mail of (GK: Duane). Sorry but (GK: Duane) is unable to come to the phone at this time. If you wish to leave a message for (GK: Duane), you may do so at the tone. For other options, press 0. When you are finished with your message, you may press 4 to hear your message. If you wish to re-record the message, press 7 and wait for the beep. If you are satisfied with your message, you may press 5 or simply hang up. If you feel you have reached this number by mistake, hang up now. Thank you for your patience. You may leave a message for (GK: Duane) in approximately 45 seconds, right after this brief commercial message. (TR ANNC: Do you suffer from dull or yellowish teeth? Do you hesitate to smile because your teeth are not as white as you'd like them to be? Then it's time you tried Dr. Johnson's Dental Caps. They fit over your current teeth and they give you a dazzling smile every time. No adhesive necessary. Dr. Johnson's Dental Caps snap onto your teeth in just seconds for a brighter smile.) (BEEP)
SS: Duane? It's your mom. Are you there? Pick up, Duane. Pick up the phone. It's your mom. Calling to say I am very very very very sorry. Duane?
GK: Hi Mom.
SS: Are you all right? You don't sound good.
GK: I'm fine.
SS: What's all that stuff on your telephone?
GK: I get free phone service if they sell advertising.
SS: Oh. Okay. I am so sorry about Thursday, Duane.
GK: It's okay.
SS: You're never going to forgive me, are you-----
GK: It's okay. Stuff happens.
SS: I make a big deal about you coming to Thanksgiving and I spend two whole days whomping up a huge dinner and I made the mistake of inviting a very nice young woman to dinner who I was sure you wanted to meet and she came in while you were getting the turkey out of the oven and you spilled hot grease on your pants and jumped up and hit your head on the corner of the cupboard door and dropped the turkey and it skidded the length of the kitchen and I washed it off but the fat from the turkey that I added to the dressing, something was wrong because you and Dad spent the next four hours in the toilet, driving the porcelain bus. I will never forgive myself.
GK: So the dressing was the culprit, huh?
SS: It had to be the dressing. That's the only thing you and your dad ate and I didn't. And neither did Melissa.
GK: Why didn't you?
SS: I never cared for dressing.
GK: Oh. Well, now I don't either.
SS: I mixed it up on Wednesday and I didn't see in the recipe where it said, "Be sure to refrigerate if made in advance." And then the turkey fat with the dog hair in it probably didn't help.
SS: So I suppose you will never set foot in this house again. I suppose I am on your permanent enemies list. As if I weren't already. I imagine you hate me even more than you did before.
GK: I don't hate anybody.
SS: If it would make you feel better, Duane, I would go out in the backyard and douse myself with gasoline and-----
GK: Mother, please.
SS: I would. If self-immolation could wipe Thanksgiving from your memory, I would go do it and make sure your dad got a good video of it so you could relive the pleasure over and over and over.
GK: Mom, please-----
SS: And your poor head. I can still hear that sound when you jumped up head-first into that cupboard door. Wham!!! Are you sure you're all right?
GK: I honestly don't remember that, Mom.
SS: You don't remember hitting your head on the cupboard door so loud that Dad heard it outdoors?
GK: I don't think so.
SS: You don't remember Melissa putting ice on your head?
SS: Melissa. The girl you went to your senior class prom with? The big-boned girl with the black hair. The rhinestone hairpiece.
GK: She was there?
SS: Yes. Melissa. She's divorced now. She was very excited about meeting you. You sat and held her hand at dinner and talked about how much you love Florida.
GK: I don't remember that.
SS: And then you ran away from the table and into the bathroom and ---- well, you remember that, don't you?
GK: I don't.
SS: Do you know who I am?
GK: I think so.
SS: I'm your mom.
GK: I thought so.
SS: Do you have a headache?
SS: Do you feel strange?
GK: I do.
SS: You don't sound like yourself.
GK: How should I sound, Mom?
SS: I'm coming over, Duane. Where are you? (PAUSE) Duane? Where are you?
GK: I'm not sure.
SS: What do you see?
GK: Palm trees. Sand. People in shorts.
SS: Ask somebody for help. Duane---- is there someone nearby?
SS: Ask him to help you. Please.
GK: It's a woman, not a man.
SS: Ask her to help you.
GK: Should I?
SS: Yes. Do it. You need help, Duane.
GK: She's rubbing oil on herself and she's wearing a very teeny tiny two-piece swimsuit. My gosh.
SS: Let me talk to her, Duane.
SS (MOM): Hello? Who is this?
SS (BABE): Who is THIS?
SS (MOM): I'm his mother. Who are you?
SS (BABE): Amber. I just met him a few hours ago. He's wonderful. Wow.
SS (MOM): What are you talking about, young lady?
SS (BABE): He's quite a guy. I've been looking for a guy like him.
SS (MOM): Where are you?
SS (BABE): My place.
SS (MOM): Where is your place?
SS (BABE): Why? You planning to come over?
SS (MOM): Listen to me. My son hit his head and he may have suffered a concussion----- there's a history of brain damage in our family-----
SS (BABE): This boy has no brain damage or any other kind of damage. This boy is functioning beautifully. Let me tell you. ----- Duane----- what are you doing?? Baby----- okay, okay------ I love you too, baby------ Oh wow. Hey, Mom----- I gotta go. Ciao.
SS (MOM): Duane??? Duane??? (CLICKS) Duane?
FN: If you wish to change your message for (GK: DUANE) you can do that at the beep. Otherwise, press 1. And have a good day.
SS (MOM): Hello??? Duane, you answer me. I know you're there. Duane, you get back here immediately. You hear me? This is your mother speaking.(BAND PLAYOFF)
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).