I Love Trouble

Come on, Hallie.

Wait up!

I'm Catching up.

The Lord is my shepherd.

I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down

in green pastures.

He leadeth me beside

the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

Yea, though I walk through

the valley of the shadow of death...

I will fear no evil,

for Thou art with me.

Thy rod and Thy staff,

they comfort me.

My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall

follow me all the days of my life...

and I shall dwell in the house

of the Lord forever.

Amen.

May I have your attention,

please?

Midrail announces the boarding

of train 417, the Wisconsin Badger...

scheduled to depart

at 5.'45...

now receiving passengers

on Track S.

Isn't she beautiful, huh?

Nice camera work, Dad.

Don't call us.

They said the kids are going to fill up

this car, but the last one is still empty.

Thank you.

- Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.

- Bye. Bye now.

Thanks for the ride.

I can't tell you how much

I enjoyed meeting you.

The pleasure was all mine.

Peter!

You never did autograph

your book.

Take care.

- Hey, Peter, how's it goin"?

- Hey!

He's here.

Gotta go.

- Hi, Peter.

- Hello.

Hey, Brackett!

- Hey, Peter.

- Hello.

- Hey, stranger!

- Hey, Jay.

- He was due here a half hour ago.

- Oh, no!

I'm sure he'll be here any minute.

Please, be patient.

- Damn!

- He'll be here. Wait, wait.

Peter Brackett's office.

Who are all those people

in Peter Brackett's office?

I can't wait around

all morning.

Your publicist. A guy with a gripe

from Alderman Cvack's office.

A jockey.

You're buying a race horse?

Do you know that your column's

due in nine minutes?

- This could be a record, even for you.

- I know, I know. Just tell...

- I want to talk to him. Give me the phone.

- Just tell the jockey that I'm gonna talk...

Peter, it's me. Listen, honey. I can't keep

setting up these prestigious book signings...

if you're gonna disappear

five minutes into the affair.

And who'd you disappear with, anyway? The

blonde with the legs up the kazoo or the...

Lindy, just give me a little credit. I got

food poisoning from the hors d'oeuvres.

- I'm in bed. I can barely speak.

- Mm-hmm.

Brackett, you're killing me.

It's written.

I swear you'll have it in three minutes.

You tell him we're gonna stop by later,

all right? Can you believe this guy?

Brilliant, charming,

undependable.

Shopping Center Shootout

Leaves One Teen Dead.

- Jeannie, didn't I once do a column about...

- July '85.

Scroll that.

Let's get down to

Johnny Got A Gun.

Okay, Johnny Got A Gun.

This works, this works.

Just brilliant. You're brilliant,

Brackett. Just brilliant.

Matt, we got a bullet.

- Where's Shapiro? Shapiro!

- She left.

- Where's Knobloch?

- Covering a fire in Winnetka.

Another minute, you would've missed

the syndicate. Where's Jake?

Went home with a 103 fever,

Mr. Greenfield.

- Suzie!

- Right here.

Get me Varney at home, or Kovler.

He lives out that way.

I'm going to a dinner party.

Do you have the address?

Right here. Cocktails at 7:00. Dinner

at 8:
00. Also don't forget tomorrow.

Good Day, Chicago. You're the

first guest, so don't be late.

Varney's wife is having a baby.

Kovler is not home, and Jake's temperature's up to 104.

Don't give me that hound dog look.

I don't cover the beat anymore.

And I don't print

recycled columns.

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Now, are you actually accusing me...

- of plagiarizing myself?

- Suzie!

Pull up Brackett's columns

from the mid-'80s.

Something with gun

in the title.

Guns Cf Something.

Gun Shy. Son Of A Gun.

Johnny Got A Gun. That's it.

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