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The Lives of the Cowboys script
Saturday, October 25, 2008
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(WESTERN THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS....brought to you by Western Lubrication...(SQUIRT OF GREASE) And now: The Lives of the Cowboys
(HORSE HOOVES WALKING)
GK: Tulsa, Dusty. Tulsa, Oklahoma. A welcome sight for sore eyes.
TR: That is for sure. Man, when you've endured three weeks of Texas, Tulsa feels like an oasis.
GK: Some good looking buildings. And they're not all squoshed together so you can get a good look at them.
TR: What's that called? Gecko?
GK: Deco. Friendly city, too. You know there is something to be said for being No. 2 — it does somethingyou're your attitude.
TR: Look at that. Swans. (SFX) Big white swans.
GK: They're out of season, Dusty. Don't even think about it.
TR: Git! Shoo! (SWANS EXIT)
GK: You seem a little on edge, Dusty.
TR: I'm just nervous who we might run into. Preachers and that ilk. Lot of Republicans here, Lefty.
GK: Yeah well.
TR: I just saw a sign, said, "Don't let big government tell you when to Walk or Don't Walk. Jaywalk for Jesus."
GK: Well, let's tie up the horses then and take shelter in this saloon. (WHOAS AND WHINNIES, THEN FOOTSTEPS) Maybe I can move some of my CDs in here.
TR: Only place your CDs are gonna move is to a landfill.
GK: I might put em online so people can download it.
TR: Your music ought to be downloaded with a shovel.
GK: Sticks and stones, Dusty. Talk all you like, someday my ship is going to come in.
TR: Only ship that comes in to Oklahoma is hardship, Lefty.
GK: Here we go. (DOOR OPEN, COOL JAZZ VERSION OF CAMPTOWN RACES ON PIANO, FOOTSTEPS) Nice place. Feel like I've heard that tune before.
TR: It does sound familiar.
SS: Afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get you?
TR: I'd like a glass of hooch.
SS: You want sitting-down hooch or falling-down hooch?
TR: Start me off on a sitting and I'll work my way down.
SS: You care for ice in that? Slice of lemon or lime?
TR: Just the hooch. No garbage in the drink.
SS: How about some appetizers? Got some chocolate-covered anchovies. Got some possum sausage.
TR: Talk to him.
GK: Cranberry juice for me. Ice. Slice of lemon. Possum sausage.
(POURING)
SS: Here's your hooch. Can't help but notice you got a guitar, mister.
TR: Here's looking at you— (HE SIPS, THEN A SERIES OF WHOOPS AS IF ON A ROLLER COASTER)
GK: Dusty experiences a drink more than most. — Yes, I am a singer-songwriter. Like so many.
SS: I used to have a boyfriend who wrote songs.
GK: I've heard that line so many times. A person could write a song about it.
SS: I did already. (SHE SINGS) I used to have a boyfriend who wrote songs. He was okay and we got along. But I threw him out because he couldn't earn a buck. And he wrote a song about that but it wasn't much good which was pretty much his luck.
GK: That's not bad. The last line maybe needs to be tightened up.
SS: Well, I'm not the songwriter. He was. (TR ANOTHER SIP AND SERIES OF WHOOPS) That is what I call a good drink.
GK: You got a boyfriend now?
SS: I do, thank you for asking.
GK: Okay-
SS: He's an evangelist and a faith healer. He came to Jesus the last time Oklahoma beat Texas in football. Beating Texas is a big thing up here. Everytime it happens, the birth rate goes up. And in his case, he was reborn to the Lord.
GK: And you're working in a saloon.
SS: Well, Tulsa is that kind of a town. We see both sides here. What kind of songs you write?
GK: Cowboy songs.(TR SIP AND SERIES OF WHOOPS)
SS: He's going down fast.
GK (SINGS):
I'd rather ride me a good buckin' bronc
Than eat escargot with a Sauvignon Blanc.
I ain't no elitist with stylish hair,
I'm a man on a horse going up in the air.
I'm a rodeo man and I do as I please
Ridin' and ropin' and droppin' my G's
The bronco is buckin', and I grab the rope
I won't land on my saddle horn too hard, I hope.
Whoopitiyiyo get along little doggies
I climb on my bronco there in the chute
And they open the gate and holler and hoot
And the bronco rises high off the ground
And I grab for the stars and I ride him back down.
I'm a rodeo man and I'm freer than you
Free to be dumb if I want which I do
I do not eat vegetables or exercise
I ride bucking broncs for a modest cash prize.
Whoopityiyo git along little doggies.
I rope the calves and I wrestle the steers
I twist their tails and grab onto their ears
And tie up their legs and we roll in the mud
In a tangle of sweat and muscle and blood.
I'm a rodeo man and I do as I wish
And a sirloin steak is my favorite dish
Don't pour me no wine, no fine Chardonnay
Just bring me a beer, take the empties away
Whoopitiyiyo get along little doggies.
SS: That was real nice. I like the way it rhymed and everything.
GK: Yeah. Rhyme really helps.
SS: You a real cowboy or you just go around in pointy boots ?
GK: Real cowboy.
SS: You're not as wirey as a cowboy ought to be.
GK: I am wirey. Feel right there.
SS: Oh. Yeah. You're wired all right. You got gel inserts in your boots?
GK: Do I have what?
SS: Gel inserts.
GK: No, I do not.
SS: Take your boots off. Lemme see.
GK: I have to sit down to take my boots off. It's a whole production.
SS: Then come upstairs. You can sit on my bed.
GK: This is kind of sudden, isn't it. (TR SIP AND WHOOPS)
SS: In Tulsa we believe in getting right to the point.
GK: Well, you are a rather attractive woman.
SS: I'm sure that in candlelight you are quite presentable yourself.
GK: But what about your boyfriend?
SS: He works on weekends. Oh oh.
(DOOR OPEN)
FN (PREACHER): O Lord, I am here in this den of iniquity. Cleanse it O Lord and keep my heart pure for thy service, Amen.
SS: I have told you a hundred times, Brent. Use the back door. This is my boyfriend, A. Brent Roberts.
GK: What's the A for?
SS: I just call him Brent.
FN (PREACHER): Hi, Jennifer. — And this pathetic fallen wretch I see before me now, heal him O Lord of his filthiness, and do not let any get on me — (SNIFFS) what kind of bourbon is that, Jennifer?
SS: It's hooch, Brent. You want some?
FN (PREACHER): Strengthen me O Lord against temptation — and send a message to this temptress, O Lord — perhaps a text message on her cell phone — tell her that her deliverance has come and I need the key to the apartment — and also this jazz pianist — deliver him O Lord from the tyranny of love ballads and dance music (PIANO BEGINS COOL VERSION OF HYMN) — just a little glass, Jennifer. Just for a mouthwash.
(TR SIP AND SERIES OF WHOOPS)
FN (PREACHER): Amen, brother. Throw off the chains of guilt and shame and throw up your hands in the air and say yes! Lemme hear you say Yes.
SS: Don't use the words "throw up" in here, Brent. Here's your hooch.
FN (PREACHER): Praise the Lord. (HE GULPS IT) Thank you, Lord. Thank you for the corn and the rye and distill in us a more perfect love of thee, but without the ice. (GULPS) Amen! Amen! Thank you, Lord. Thank you. My house has foreclosed, I lost my job and my 401 K, and yet I rejoice in you always. Always. — What's the matter with you?
GK: Me?
FN (PREACHER): How come you're not rejoicing?
GK: I rejoice on the inside, mister.
FN (PREACHER): Brother Brent wants to bring you to the knowledge of the joy that is in the Lord. I want you to sit on this whoopee cushion of faith.
GK: I'd rather not.
FN (PREACHER) : First there is resistance, and then the Lord shines through. Sit on it. This whoopee cushion has been an instrument of healing for hundreds just like yourself.
SS: You have to excuse him, mister. You've heard of Oral Roberts.
GK: Yes.
SS: Well the A-in A. Brent—
(A BEAT)
GK: It's not —
SS: This is his nephew Anal Roberts.
FN (PREACHER): Sit down, the Lord invites you to sit on his whoopee cushion of Love!!!
GK: Okay. (BIG FART) All right.
FN (PREACHER): And even as you feel the deep vibrations of healing, sir, I hope you will consider a love offering, perhaps in the form of another libation of this nature.
GK: Actually I do feel better.
FN (PREACHER): Hallelujah.
(BRIDGE)
(HORSE HOOVES)
GK: Well, guess we're headed for Colorado, huh? Pick us up a herd in Durango. Head for Albuquerque. Winter there or wherever.
TR: Hope you're not sore at me for getting drunk.
GK: No, no. You're an adult, do what you like. All the same to me.
TR: You're sore at me. I can tell.
GK: Not sore at all.
TR: I know you. You're mad at me.
GK: I'm not.
TR: That preacher kept pouring the hooch while you were upstairs with the lady. What were you doing up there anyways?
GK: She lit some candles and I thought we were going to canoodle but then she got an idea for a song about a woman and a cowboy having a romantic fling and instead of having it, she wrote about it.
TR: Oh dang.
GK: A common tendency among English majors.
TR: I could've stayed in Tulsa. Cowboyin just gets harder and harder. Yer back hurts, you're too dang old to be doin this, it's time to start earn a livin usin your wits, which you don't have anymore.
GK: Well, it's like Will Rogers said. Nobody's smart, we're all ignorant, just about different things.
(THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS........brought to you by Western Lubrication (SQUORT) (MUSIC OUT)
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