(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?
GK: We were just lying here talking.
TR (GIRL): How come there are clothes all over the floor? Mom?
SS: Yes?
TR (GIRL): You okay?
SS: I'm fine. You all right, Steffi?
TR (GIRL): I'm fine. Just want you to know I'm home.
GK: Good. You have a nice time?
TR (GIRL): Yeah. Really nice.
GK: What does "really nice" mean?
SS: Shhhhh.
GK: Good night.
(DOOR CLOSE)
GK: Tell me about that collision again----
SS: Shhhhhhh. (MUSIC BUTTON)
© Garrison Keillor 2002