Guy Noir, October 8, 2011

The Fitzgerald Theater

Saint Paul, MN


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Guy Noir

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TR (ANNC): 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 trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions: Guy Noir, Private Eye.

GK: It was October, the autumn leaves were at their peak, it was warm and summery, people were distracted by beauty, and that meant business for me, trying to rope them in and get them back in the corral.

SS: It's about my husband, Mr. Noir. He quit his programming job to become a singer/songwriter.

GK: There's been a lot of that this week, ma'am. I'll bring him back. (STING)

TK (ON PHONE): Hey---- I'm calling from Avon. I went for a drive to look at the fall colors and I gave my car to a hitchhiker and I'm standing here with a sonnet in my hand.

GK: A sonnet?

TK: I think it's a sonnet. I donno, I'm a TSA agent.

GK: You wrote this?

TK: It's in my handwriting.
"When I observe the leaves turn reddish gold and yellow And at the golden glow I stand in awe
And tremble like a bowl of lemon Jell-O
And feel my life in time's great feathered claw."

GK: "Feel my life in time's great feathered claw" ----- that's a sonnet all right. So how can I help?

TK: Is my sonnet any good?

GK: Not good enough.

TK: So I should go back to TSA-----

GK: I think so.

TK: Okay. Thanks. (STING, BRIDGE)

GK: October. It's a mysterious time of year, it affects people in mysterious ways, and solving mysteries is what I do for a living.

SS (DORIS): Not enough of a living to pay the rent though.

GK: Did you ever hear of knocking, Doris?

SS (DORIS): Did you ever hear of eviction notices? Huh?

GK: Doris----

SS (DORIS): You'll be living on the street within a year, mark my words.

GK: It's just a fallow month.

SS (DORIS): You spend enough on takeout food though----

GK: You've been going through my garbage?

SS (DORIS): I recycle.

GK: Doris, I'll have it for you next week. (BRIDGE)

GK: Doris's problem is that she had a husband Sydney who died on her in order to get some peace and quiet so she had nobody to despise except me. (KNOCKS) Come in, the door's open. (FOOTSTEPS IN)

TR: My name's Ben, Mr. Noir. Ben Dover. I'm a political activist. It's what I do. I organize protests. All kinds. Tea Party, Take Over Wall Street, you name it. And I live with a secret that I've never told anybody. I was born with an unusual gland under my tailbone ----- it's a stink gland, similar to what skunks have, and when I get really angry, it sprays a foul liquid that smells so bad it makes people fall on their knees and weep. So, for years, I've been marching in the streets and when I meet the enemy, I spray, and they fall down weeping and we walk right over them.

GK: You don't seem to smell right now ---- so what's the problem?

TR: I'm starting to spray in my sleep.

GK: Aha.

TR: It's an overpowering smell.

GK: You're not just----

TR: No. It's worse than that.

GK: Okay.

TR: I have these nightmares and I wake up and I'm kneeling on the floor with my rear end in the air and the house reeks of skunk and my wife is yelling ----- it's very very awkward.

GK: You could have it surgically removed.

TR: But then I wouldn't be as effective as an activist.

GK: I guess you'd have to find a new career. What are you here in Minnesota for?

TR: I'm organizing a march against the Lutheran church to get them to hire more Muslim ministers.

GK: Interesting.

TR: There are thousands of Muslims who are perfectly well-qualified to lead a Lutheran service ---- I mean, they can read ----- they can download a sermon from the Internet, same as anybody else ----- they're as devout as non-Muslim Lutherans, they're just differently devout ---- How can we penalize people for their religious beliefs? It's outrageous. To give people preference for good jobs because they have Scandinavian names and to penalize someone because his first name is Muhammad. How can you not be angry at something like that? It's an outrage. It's discrimination, pure and simple, and if you and I don't stand up and raise our voices against it -----(HISS) then shame on us. I will not be silenced. I will speak out and speak out again and again until (HISS) we bring about a change----- I will not go along with things as they are-----

GK: Okay. Out of here. Out. Go. Leave. Now. (FOOTSTEPS AS TR CONTINUES, OFF, DOOR SLAM) (STINK CHORDS) I was paralyzed by the stench. It was like something died a few days ago. Overpowering. I tried to walk toward the window to open it but I couldn't move.

(DOOR OPEN)

SS (DORIS): Hey Guy, listen------ oh my God, what have you been eating? Oh that is terrible!

GK: It wasn't me, Doris.

SS (DORIS): Oh, it wasn't you. Who else is in here?

GK: It was a skunk man, okay? He just left.

SS (DORIS): A skunk man. That's a good one, Guy. I like that. P.U. No more sausage pizza, you hear me? I gotta go. (QUICK FOOTSTEPS OUT, DOOR SHUTS) (FOOTSTEPS) (GK STRAINS)

GK: Can't get the window open. Come on. Open.

(DOOR OPEN, FOOTSTEPS)

TR (RICH GUY): Mr. Noir—I'm John MacArthur from the MacArthur Awards, the so-called genius awards, and I'm happy to tell you that ------- phew! Never mind! Lay off the bean burritos, would you? (FOOTSTEPS OUT, DOOR SHUTS)

GK: Wow. Brings tears to your eyes.

(KNOCKING, DOOR OPENS, HEELS)

SS (SEXY): Mr. Noir. Hi, I'm Debi. I found this bundle of $50 bills outside your door and I was wondering ......(SNIFF) Oh my gosh. What have you been eating? Silage?

GK: No, it wasn't me, it wasn't me--

SS (SEXY): I'm sorry. I'm out of here. (HEELS RETREAT)

GK: Wait—

SS (SEXY): Bye. (DOOR SLAMS).

GK: Oh my gosh. I gotta get this window open. (STRUGGLES WITH WINDOW, COUGHS)

(KNOCK, DOOR OPENS, HEAVY FOOTSTEPS)

TR (FRENCH): Allo, Allons. (FRENCH CHEER, THEN FRENCH DISGUST, THEN FRENCH NAUSEA......) (DOOR SLAM)

GK: I almost don't notice it anymore. I've become desensitized. What a horrible thought. (KNOCKS) Don't come in here. (DOOR OPEN, HIGH HEELS)

SS (MINN): Hi. Listen, I'm Michelle Bachmann and I just want to talk to you about how Obama is taking away our liberties and moving us into a socialist state and I need your----- I'm-----(SNIFF) Oh my gosh. Oh boy. You really should change your diet, mister. Excuse me. Goodbye. (QUICK FOOTSTEPS OUT, DOOR CLOSES)

GK: Oh my gosh. I can't even believe this. (CHIPS AT WINDOW FURIOUSLY, KNOCK, DOOR OPENS, FOOTSTEPS) Don't come in here, okay? Just stay out.

TR (OBAMA): I'm sorry. I can't stay away. I'm already in. (SCUBA RESPIRATION)

GK: President Obama? In a diving suit.

TR (OBAMA): I'm here to tell you that there is hope, and if we work together, I know we can make this room smell better.

GK: I hope you're right, but------

TR (OBAMA): There are some who would say, It can't be helped. He stunk up the joint. He cut the cheese and it's his fault and let him handle it. But you did not do this. And I know that and you know that. You've been blamed and shamed for it but your name is not on it. Sort of like me, but never mind that. I've dealt with stinks before and the first step is to let a little fresh air in.

GK: What are you doing with that broom? (GLASS BREAKAGE). Hey!

TR (OBAMA): There. And now we can breathe again. Okay, I'm out of here.

GK: What are you doing with that cape, Mr. President— you're going out the window?

TR (OBAMA, OFF): There's no time to waste, Mr. Noir. I've got a job to do, and so do you.

GK: Wow. He can fly. (WHOOSH, FLIES OFF, THEN CRASH INTO TRASH). For short flights anyway. You okay down there?

TR (OBAMA, OFF): I have every reason to believe that I am okay, and better than okay.

GK: Okay. Good. October. An interesting month. We're full of need and we're not sure what it is. As someone once said: Give me ambiguity or give me something else. We want to be loved because we're unique, and not unique in the way that everyone is unique, but really unique. Love is what life is all about. Like all generalizations, that one is probably off the mark. But who knows? Who knows?

(THEME)

TR (ANNC): 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 trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions: Guy Noir, Private Eye.

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