SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE
written by Scott Cherney
excerpt
(From the saloon comes an off-key ditty sung by a heavily East European accented female voice ala Marlene Dietrich.)
KID: Somebody’s coming. Quick, where can I hide?
CHARLENE: In my shop, but howcum?
KID: I have my reasons. (ducks into blacksmith’s)
(Entering from The Golden Goulash is NASTASSIA KINKY, an exotic gypsy woman complete with golden earrings and assorted adornments. She wears a peasant blouse worn off the shoulder and a long flowing colorful skirt, slit to expose her shapely legs.)
NASTASSIA: Nastassia hears voices outside so she comes to see. Now she is outside and sees only you.
CHARLENE: Jus’ talkin’ to myself, m’am.
NASTASSIA: Suppose somebody has to. This one knows she does not enjoy it. (a guitar twang is heard from the blacksmith’s shop) What was that sound from your place of business?
CHARLENE: Uh…must’a been a mouse.
NASTASSIA: You have perhaps…musical mouses? Hmm…you are a strange muscular young woman, Charlene Atlas. Have a disgusting day. (exits into saloon)
CHARLENE: Ditto. (whispering into shop) The coast is clear, Kid.
KID: (entering) Who was that unusually attractive woman?
CHARLENE: Whoa, hoss! Don’t be poppin’ yer pupils over that one. She is trouble with a capital…uh…she’s trouble, I tell ya. Her name’s Nastassia Kinky. She’s in cahoots with the judge. This here’s her saloon.
KID: (reading name) “The Golden Goulash”?
CHARLENE: She ain’t from ‘round here, that’s fer sure. Nasty Kinky’s one of them gypsies. I hear tell she’s got some kinda magic powers. Huh! Looks like she’s got you under her spell already!
KID: What? Don’t be loco. I just haven’t seen a filly like that before. Besides, there’s only one woman on my mind…Darla Darling, the sweetheart of my youth. Where is she, Charlene? I have to know. What has happened to the gal who stole my heart when I was just a lovesick puppy?
CHARLENE: Well, Fido, I got some more bad news fer ya. Darla’s engaged to be married.
KID: (disbelieving) She’s what to be what?
CHARLENE: She’s gittin’ hitched. Tyin’ the knot. Takin’ the plunge.
KID: Alright already! I got it!
CHARLENE: Sorry, Kid
KID: But how did this happen?
CHARLENE: Uh, he asked her…an’ she said “Okay”.
KID: He? He who?
CHARLENE: Who he? I’ll ya who he who…he…I’m getting’ dizzy. He’s the sheriff, that’s who.
KID: The sheriff? You can’t mean Sheriff Omar? Why, he’s old enough to be her great-grandfather.
CHARLENE: Uh, no, not him. He…ain’t with us no more.
KID: Did he pass away?
CHARLENE: Ya might say so.
KID: I’m sorry to hear that. So there’s a new sheriff in town?
CHARLENE: Yep, an’ y’all never guess who he...who…is.
KID: And I don’t care. All I care about is Darla. I feel like a mule just kicked me right square in the heart.
CHARLENE: I don’t know what to say, Kid, cuz it’s all bad.
KID: You can say that again. (beat) Don’t.
CHARLENE: Hey, why’d y’all hide in my shop before?
KID: I don’t want anyone else to know I’m here just yet. I’m going to lay low and find out what’s really going on in this town. I’ll make myself known when the time is right. Until then, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.
CHARLENE: Nobody likes me enough to ask, but you kin count on me. What exactly ya gonna do, Kid?
KID: I don’t rightly know, but I promise you this…I’m going to do…something.
CHARLENE: I love that kinda talk.
KID: While I’m snooping about, would you mind keeping an eye on my horse for me?
CHARLENE: Ya mean yer famous horse, Thunder? (horse whinny off-stage) Howdy, Thunder, Pleased to meet ya. I’d consider it a honor to look after him fer ya. Say, do ya think I could ride ‘im a little bit?(horse whinny again)
KID: Thunder! That’s not very nice. She’s just big-boned. Sorry, Charlene, but that wouldn’t be a very good idea. I’ve got Thunder trained so that I’m the only one who can ride him. If you or anyone else were to get onto his back, Thunder would buck you straight up into the air about a hundred feet and then....splat!
CHARLENE: Ew.
KID: It ain’t pretty, but it works. It’s kind of what you might call an anti-theft device. Got it?
CHARLENE: I shore do.
KID: Good. Thunder, you mind Charlene now. She’s good people. I’ll be close by. Remember, you haven’t seen me. (gives CHARLENE a thumbs up gesture, who in turn looks up bewildered. Shaking his head, he crosses over to the left side of the tree)
CHARLENE: It shore is good to have a real man ‘round here agin. It takes all the pressure offa me.
KID: Looks like somebody’s coming down the street. Well, I’ll be…
(MAYOR DONALD DARLING, a distinguished looking but obviously confused older man, enters waffling to himself. He wears a gray suit and top hat, as befitting a man of his position.)
CHARLENE: ‘Mornin’, Mr. Mayor.
KID: That’s Darla’s father, the town mayor. I wonder if he’s still as absent-minded as he used to be.
MAYOR: Huh, what? Oh, Charlene. It is Charlene, isn’t it?
CHARLENE: Yes sir, Mr. Mayor.
MAYOR: Good! I have some questions for you. First of all…where am I?
CHARLENE: Yer in the middle’a town in front’a my shop.
MAYOR: Excellent. That’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Now, why am I here?
CHARLENE: Did y’all wanna talk to me ‘bout somethin’?
MAYOR: Yes, I did! That’s two down and one to go. All right, think hard now…what was I going to talk to you about?
CHARLENE: Uh…that I don’t rightly know.
MAYOR: (flustered) Confound it! How do you expect to know what I’m talking about when you don’t even know what I’m supposed to be talking about?
CHARLENE: I dunno. I’m sorry.
MAYOR: Oh, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve been under quite a strain lately. Sometimes I think I should have packed up the family and moved to Texas. Texas…? Taxes! Aha! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
CHARLENE: (groans) Not more taxes.
MAYOR: I’m afraid so.
CHARLENE: I liked it better when ya couldn’t remember.
MAYOR: Last night, Judge Kadaver informed me that, as of today, there is now a tacks tax.
CHARLENE: A tacks tax?
MAYOR: Yes. A tax on every tack used in town.
CHARLENE: An’ I use a lotta tacks! I’m a blacksmith, fer gosh sakes. This is too much! I can’t pay it. Better yet…I won’t pay it!
(The lights dim as the sound of the wind howling through town is heard. With lightning crackling overheard followed by the rumbling of thunder, JUDGE BASIL KADAVER enters with his walking stick. He is exactly as Charlene has described, an albino dressed in black, resembling more of an undertaker than a judge, except for his Quaker like hat sitting atop his flowing white tresses. He stops and points accusingly at CHARLENE.)
JUDGE: Won’t pay? Won’t…as in will not? Is this what I hear, Miss Atlas?
KID: I’m going to make an educated guess here. That’s got to be the Judge.
JUDGE: Well? I asked you a question and I expect an answer.
CHARLENE: (nervously) Judge, yer honor, sir…when I say won’t, it means I can’t…an’ if’n I can’t, I won’t…I mean…I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t…I mean, if’n I pay this here tax on top’a all them other taxes, I won’t able to afford to live.
JUDGE: Well, then, die. (laughs)
CHARLENE: What? No!
JUDGE: Oh, silence yourself, you ridiculous excuse for a female and listen to every single word I have to say to you. Don’t you ever…EVER….use the word “won’t” in regards to any of the laws that I impose. I consider that an act of defiance and to me, defiance is a disease, a disease that can only be cured in one way and one way only….at the end of a rope! Do you understand?
CHARLENE: Yes, sir, yer majesty, sir!
JUDGE: Good. Now, I am not a difficult man. There are alternative solutions to every problem. Here are your options. You can A: pay the tax, but that seems to be a tad difficult for you. How about B: turn your business over to me and you can run it for a salary? Isn’t that an amusing rhyme?
CHARLENE: Yeah, it’s purty cute.
JUDGE: Or perhaps you would prefer C ?
CHARLENE: What happens if’n I choose that one?
JUDGE: You don’t choose it. It chooses you. You see, if you can’t make a decision between A and B, that means I will burn this museum of manure down to the ground and you will be tossed out into the street on your rather prominent behind. You will have nowhere to go…nothing to do…and need I remind you that vagrancy is a crime in this town, a crime punishable by….you guess it! Death by hanging! And that, my slovenly friend, is C, see?
CHARLENE: Si! No, not C. Si means yes but no! I mean, A…no! B! No! How ‘bout D: none of the above?
JUDGE: What comes before D?
CHARLENE: C?
JUDGE: Suit yourself. (strikes match)
CHARLENE: No! (blows out match)
Copyright 2013 by Scott Cherney
written by Scott Cherney
excerpt
(From the saloon comes an off-key ditty sung by a heavily East European accented female voice ala Marlene Dietrich.)
KID: Somebody’s coming. Quick, where can I hide?
CHARLENE: In my shop, but howcum?
KID: I have my reasons. (ducks into blacksmith’s)
(Entering from The Golden Goulash is NASTASSIA KINKY, an exotic gypsy woman complete with golden earrings and assorted adornments. She wears a peasant blouse worn off the shoulder and a long flowing colorful skirt, slit to expose her shapely legs.)
NASTASSIA: Nastassia hears voices outside so she comes to see. Now she is outside and sees only you.
CHARLENE: Jus’ talkin’ to myself, m’am.
NASTASSIA: Suppose somebody has to. This one knows she does not enjoy it. (a guitar twang is heard from the blacksmith’s shop) What was that sound from your place of business?
CHARLENE: Uh…must’a been a mouse.
NASTASSIA: You have perhaps…musical mouses? Hmm…you are a strange muscular young woman, Charlene Atlas. Have a disgusting day. (exits into saloon)
CHARLENE: Ditto. (whispering into shop) The coast is clear, Kid.
KID: (entering) Who was that unusually attractive woman?
CHARLENE: Whoa, hoss! Don’t be poppin’ yer pupils over that one. She is trouble with a capital…uh…she’s trouble, I tell ya. Her name’s Nastassia Kinky. She’s in cahoots with the judge. This here’s her saloon.
KID: (reading name) “The Golden Goulash”?
CHARLENE: She ain’t from ‘round here, that’s fer sure. Nasty Kinky’s one of them gypsies. I hear tell she’s got some kinda magic powers. Huh! Looks like she’s got you under her spell already!
KID: What? Don’t be loco. I just haven’t seen a filly like that before. Besides, there’s only one woman on my mind…Darla Darling, the sweetheart of my youth. Where is she, Charlene? I have to know. What has happened to the gal who stole my heart when I was just a lovesick puppy?
CHARLENE: Well, Fido, I got some more bad news fer ya. Darla’s engaged to be married.
KID: (disbelieving) She’s what to be what?
CHARLENE: She’s gittin’ hitched. Tyin’ the knot. Takin’ the plunge.
KID: Alright already! I got it!
CHARLENE: Sorry, Kid
KID: But how did this happen?
CHARLENE: Uh, he asked her…an’ she said “Okay”.
KID: He? He who?
CHARLENE: Who he? I’ll ya who he who…he…I’m getting’ dizzy. He’s the sheriff, that’s who.
KID: The sheriff? You can’t mean Sheriff Omar? Why, he’s old enough to be her great-grandfather.
CHARLENE: Uh, no, not him. He…ain’t with us no more.
KID: Did he pass away?
CHARLENE: Ya might say so.
KID: I’m sorry to hear that. So there’s a new sheriff in town?
CHARLENE: Yep, an’ y’all never guess who he...who…is.
KID: And I don’t care. All I care about is Darla. I feel like a mule just kicked me right square in the heart.
CHARLENE: I don’t know what to say, Kid, cuz it’s all bad.
KID: You can say that again. (beat) Don’t.
CHARLENE: Hey, why’d y’all hide in my shop before?
KID: I don’t want anyone else to know I’m here just yet. I’m going to lay low and find out what’s really going on in this town. I’ll make myself known when the time is right. Until then, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.
CHARLENE: Nobody likes me enough to ask, but you kin count on me. What exactly ya gonna do, Kid?
KID: I don’t rightly know, but I promise you this…I’m going to do…something.
CHARLENE: I love that kinda talk.
KID: While I’m snooping about, would you mind keeping an eye on my horse for me?
CHARLENE: Ya mean yer famous horse, Thunder? (horse whinny off-stage) Howdy, Thunder, Pleased to meet ya. I’d consider it a honor to look after him fer ya. Say, do ya think I could ride ‘im a little bit?(horse whinny again)
KID: Thunder! That’s not very nice. She’s just big-boned. Sorry, Charlene, but that wouldn’t be a very good idea. I’ve got Thunder trained so that I’m the only one who can ride him. If you or anyone else were to get onto his back, Thunder would buck you straight up into the air about a hundred feet and then....splat!
CHARLENE: Ew.
KID: It ain’t pretty, but it works. It’s kind of what you might call an anti-theft device. Got it?
CHARLENE: I shore do.
KID: Good. Thunder, you mind Charlene now. She’s good people. I’ll be close by. Remember, you haven’t seen me. (gives CHARLENE a thumbs up gesture, who in turn looks up bewildered. Shaking his head, he crosses over to the left side of the tree)
CHARLENE: It shore is good to have a real man ‘round here agin. It takes all the pressure offa me.
KID: Looks like somebody’s coming down the street. Well, I’ll be…
(MAYOR DONALD DARLING, a distinguished looking but obviously confused older man, enters waffling to himself. He wears a gray suit and top hat, as befitting a man of his position.)
CHARLENE: ‘Mornin’, Mr. Mayor.
KID: That’s Darla’s father, the town mayor. I wonder if he’s still as absent-minded as he used to be.
MAYOR: Huh, what? Oh, Charlene. It is Charlene, isn’t it?
CHARLENE: Yes sir, Mr. Mayor.
MAYOR: Good! I have some questions for you. First of all…where am I?
CHARLENE: Yer in the middle’a town in front’a my shop.
MAYOR: Excellent. That’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Now, why am I here?
CHARLENE: Did y’all wanna talk to me ‘bout somethin’?
MAYOR: Yes, I did! That’s two down and one to go. All right, think hard now…what was I going to talk to you about?
CHARLENE: Uh…that I don’t rightly know.
MAYOR: (flustered) Confound it! How do you expect to know what I’m talking about when you don’t even know what I’m supposed to be talking about?
CHARLENE: I dunno. I’m sorry.
MAYOR: Oh, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve been under quite a strain lately. Sometimes I think I should have packed up the family and moved to Texas. Texas…? Taxes! Aha! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.
CHARLENE: (groans) Not more taxes.
MAYOR: I’m afraid so.
CHARLENE: I liked it better when ya couldn’t remember.
MAYOR: Last night, Judge Kadaver informed me that, as of today, there is now a tacks tax.
CHARLENE: A tacks tax?
MAYOR: Yes. A tax on every tack used in town.
CHARLENE: An’ I use a lotta tacks! I’m a blacksmith, fer gosh sakes. This is too much! I can’t pay it. Better yet…I won’t pay it!
(The lights dim as the sound of the wind howling through town is heard. With lightning crackling overheard followed by the rumbling of thunder, JUDGE BASIL KADAVER enters with his walking stick. He is exactly as Charlene has described, an albino dressed in black, resembling more of an undertaker than a judge, except for his Quaker like hat sitting atop his flowing white tresses. He stops and points accusingly at CHARLENE.)
JUDGE: Won’t pay? Won’t…as in will not? Is this what I hear, Miss Atlas?
KID: I’m going to make an educated guess here. That’s got to be the Judge.
JUDGE: Well? I asked you a question and I expect an answer.
CHARLENE: (nervously) Judge, yer honor, sir…when I say won’t, it means I can’t…an’ if’n I can’t, I won’t…I mean…I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t…I mean, if’n I pay this here tax on top’a all them other taxes, I won’t able to afford to live.
JUDGE: Well, then, die. (laughs)
CHARLENE: What? No!
JUDGE: Oh, silence yourself, you ridiculous excuse for a female and listen to every single word I have to say to you. Don’t you ever…EVER….use the word “won’t” in regards to any of the laws that I impose. I consider that an act of defiance and to me, defiance is a disease, a disease that can only be cured in one way and one way only….at the end of a rope! Do you understand?
CHARLENE: Yes, sir, yer majesty, sir!
JUDGE: Good. Now, I am not a difficult man. There are alternative solutions to every problem. Here are your options. You can A: pay the tax, but that seems to be a tad difficult for you. How about B: turn your business over to me and you can run it for a salary? Isn’t that an amusing rhyme?
CHARLENE: Yeah, it’s purty cute.
JUDGE: Or perhaps you would prefer C ?
CHARLENE: What happens if’n I choose that one?
JUDGE: You don’t choose it. It chooses you. You see, if you can’t make a decision between A and B, that means I will burn this museum of manure down to the ground and you will be tossed out into the street on your rather prominent behind. You will have nowhere to go…nothing to do…and need I remind you that vagrancy is a crime in this town, a crime punishable by….you guess it! Death by hanging! And that, my slovenly friend, is C, see?
CHARLENE: Si! No, not C. Si means yes but no! I mean, A…no! B! No! How ‘bout D: none of the above?
JUDGE: What comes before D?
CHARLENE: C?
JUDGE: Suit yourself. (strikes match)
CHARLENE: No! (blows out match)
Copyright 2013 by Scott Cherney