Saturday, October 31, 2015

The Fruit of the Spirit Goes West - Feudin', Fightin', and Fussin'





THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT
GOES WEST




Feudin’, Fightin’, and Fussin’


By Bob Allen


“The fruit of the Spirit is…peace.” (Galatians 5:22)

“Blessed are the peacemakers.” (Matthew 5:9)

CHARACTERS


Rocky Rodes                                     – A true-blue, rootin’-tootin’



Western cowboy.







                        Hank Hill                                            - A neighbor







                        “Bear” Dawson                                 - Another neighbor

SCENE


            Hank has been caught by “Bear” in the act of moving a stake out in the middle of the prairie.   Nothing but sand and cactus and prairie grass can be seen.

BEAR:           Hold it right there you yellow-livered land-grabber.   Caught you red-                     handed.  (STEPS FROM BEHIND A ROCK)

HANK:           Who’s the land-grabber?  This piece of prairie has been in my family                           since the great land rush.

BEAR:           Wasn’t yours then and it ain’t yours now.  (GRABS AND STAKE                               AND TRIES TO MOVE IT A FOOT BACK TOWARD HANK.)

HANK:           Move that stake and I’ll use it to mark your grave.  (GRAPPLES                                  WITH BEAR OVER THE STAKE.)

BEAR:           Steal any more Dawson land and my boys will see to it that we are                                 plumb out of neighbors next week.  (BOTH MEN HAVE HOLD OF                                   THE STAKE AND ARE WRESTLING OVER IT WHEN ROCKY                                   ENTERS.)

ROCKY:        Whatcha’ got there boys?  One of them there twirlin’ batons from the                          high school band?   (BOTH MEN DROP THE STAKE.)

BEAR:           Caught him stealing my land, moving his border stake one foot, right                            onto my property.

HANK:           It was my foot to start with.

BEAR:           My foot it was your foot.

ROCKY:        (LOOKS RIGHT AND LEFT.)   Seems like there’s plenty of land                                 here for the both of you.  What’s the problem?

BEAR:           (TAKES FOOT AND TRIES TO SLIDE THE STAKE TOWARD                             HANK.)   Might just come a day when the drillers find oil in that strip                   of land.

HANK:           The wife can see this piece of prairie from her kitchen window, and it                           just bugs the daylight out of her to stand there doin’ dishes and                              lookin’ at land that was stolen from us by the Dawsons.  (KICKS THE STAKE BACK TOWARD BEAR.)

ROCKY:        But your wife WAS a Dawson.

HANK:           Don’t make no never mind.  She’s a Hill now.  ‘Sides, that’s how she                             knows it was stolen.  Heard her old man crowin’ about it when she                                   was just a kid.

BEAR:           Pop didn’t steal no land.  Your poor excuse for a grandfather lost it                              to him in a poker game.  His eyes were so crossed he couldn’t keep a                                    straight face.

HANK:           Why you yellow-bellied snake-in-the-grass.  (BOTH MEN DIVE FOR              THE STAKE AND START FIGHTING OVER IT.

ROCKY:        (STEPS BETWEEN THE MEN AND SEPARATES THEM AS THEY KEEP TRYING VAINLY TO PUNCH EACH OTHER.)  Quit your fightin’. 

HANK:           He started it.

BEAR:           You’re just as cross-eyed as your old man.

ROCKY:        Listen up.  I think I’ve got an answer for y’all.

BEAR:           Nothin’ goin’ to satisfy me as long as he’s still my nighbor.

HANK:           Much as I love my wife, I may get a divorce just so you won’t be my brother-in-law.

ROCKY:        Well, what if you weren’t neighbors?

HANK:           Weren’t neighbors?  I ain’t gonna’ move.

BEAR:           The Dawsons been living on this land for more generations than I can count.

HANK:           Two?

BEAR:           Huh?  (FINALLY UNDERSTANDS THE INSULT)  Why you low-down…

ROCKY:        Neither one of you has to move.  Just give the land away and you won’t be neighbors any more.

HANK:           Give one foot of land away?  What good would that do?

BEAR:           You know someone who would be interested in one foot of prairie?  Who would take it?

ROCKY:        God!   Give the land to God.

HANK:           But what would He do with it?

ROCKY:        He would make peace.  Do you reckon your wife would be upset to look out at a piece of land that belongs to God?

HANK:           All right.  We’ll give it to God.

BEAR:           Better him than you.

(HANK AND BEAR STAND OVER THE TOP OF THE FALLEN STAKE AND BRIEFLY SHAKE HANDS.)

ROCKY:        “And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.”  (James 3:18).

Friday, October 30, 2015

The Fruit of the Spirit Goes West - Where's The Beef?






THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT

GOES WEST




Where’s The Beef?

By Bob Allen



“The fruit of the Spirit is…gentleness.” (Galatians 5:22)

“the kindness (gentleness) and love of God our Savior toward man appeared”
(Titus 3:4)

CHARACTERS







Rocky Rhodes                          – A true-blue, rootin’-tootin’



Western cowboy.







                        Dillon Marshall                                  - The local sheriff.







                        “Polecat” Thompson                         - A rustler.


                       

SCENE


            DILLON MARSHALL, THE LOCAL SHERIFF, HAS DISCOVERED “POLECAT” THOMPSON EATING A PICNIC ON ROCKY RODES RAND PROPERTY.  “POLECAT” SITS ON A BLANKET WITH A LARGE BUCKET IN FRONT OF HIM MARKED “KFC.”

 DILLON:      Take your hands out of the bucket.  Nice and easy now.

POLECAT:   (RAISING HANDS OVER HIS HEAD HOLDING UP A CHICKEN                                     LEG.)  Some law been passed against picnicking, Sheriff?

DILLON:       Not if you’re on your own property, eating your own food.

POLECAT:   (WAVES THE DRUMSTICK.)  It’s my own food.  This ain’t  no                                 chicken farm.

DILLON:       (GOES FOR HIS PISTOL UNTIL HE REALIZES IT’S JUST                                                 CHICKEN.)  So, where’s the beef?

POLECAT:   I got no beef with KFC. 

DILLON:       You know what I mean.  You been rustling beef from Rocky’s farm.                            (DILLON KICKS OVER THE BUCKET AND TRIUMPHANTLY                                 PICKS UP A LOCKER WRAPPED PACKAGE OF HAMBURGER.)

POLECAT:   All right, you got me.  But I ain’t hurting his cattle none.

DILLON:       I suppose some cow just gave you this.

POLECAT:   In a way.   I put the cows to sleep.  Make a small incision.  Take a                                  pound of ground, and with a couple sutures they’re back with the                                     herd.  I call it the South Beef Diet.

DILLON:       You’re under arrest.

POLECAT:   (GRABS THE HAMBURGER AND RUNS AWAY, COLLIDING                             WITH ROCKY AS HE ENTERS.)

ROCKY:        What’s the hurry, man?

DILLON:       I just caught him rustling your cattle.

ROCKY:        But I’m not missing any cattle.

POLECAT:   See! 

DILLON:       (GRABS POLECAT AND HANDS THE PACKAGE OF                                             HAMBURGER TO ROCKY.)  Is this some of your beef?

ROCKY:        (READING THE PACKAGE.)  Rocky Rhodes Rib Eye.  Well, I reckon                        it is.

POLECAT:   I always keep good records.  Can’t resell it without Country of Origin                          markings.

DILLON:       Want me to string him up?  That’s what we used to do with rustlers.

ROCKY:        That’s certainly what he deserves.

DILLON:       He deserves to be buried up to his neck in an anthill and covered with                           picante sauce.

ROCKY:        Let him go.

DILLON:       What?

POLECAT:   You heard the man.  Unhand me.

ROCKY:        (HANDS POLECAT THE HAMBURGER PACKAGE.)  Here.  Have                                    some beef.

DILLON:       What are you doing?  Rootin’-Tootin’ western cowboys don’t give                                beef away to rustlers?

ROCKY:        If you need any more, Polecat, just come by the ranch and I’ll provide              all the meat you need for you and your family.

POLECAT:   All right.  What’s the catch?

ROCKY:        No catch.  I’ll provide everything you need so you don’t need to steal.

POLECAT:   I knew there was a catch.  Sheriff.  Cuff me!

DILLON:       What is going on around here?

POLECAT:   Arrest me.  Now!  No one’s going to make an honest man out of me.

DILLON:       But he offered you your freedom. 

POLECAT:   By taking away my reason to steal?  That ain’t freedom.  I’m a                                      rustler.  My daddy was a rustler.  I was born to rustle and I’ll die                                     rustling.  I get my beef the old fashioned way.  I steal it.

DILLON:       All right.  You’re under arrest.  (GRABS POLECAT AND STARTS                          TO TAKE HIM AWAY.  THEN LOOKS BACK TOWARD                                               ROCKY.)  But, how did you know?

ROCKY:        It takes a real man not to gag on gentleness.


Thursday, October 29, 2015

The Fruit of the Spirit Goes West - A Peculiar Proposal







THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT
GOES WEST

By Bob Allen






THE PECULIAR PROPOSAL



                                       Galatians 5:22  “The fruit of the Spirit is love…”

John 21: 15  “Lovest thou me more than these?”





Characters

                        Rocky Rhodes                                      A true-blue, rootin’-tootin’
Western cowboy.

                        Samantha Rider                                -Rocky’s long-time sweetheart.

                        The Lonesome Guitar Player           -A lonesome guitar player.

Scene


            Rocky and Samantha are seated on a horse blanket enjoying a picnic Samantha has prepared.   A large rock in the background hides the Lonesome Guitar Player from view.  On the top of the rock sits an apple pie.


ROCKY:        You all outdone yourself with this potato salad.  Delicious.  Not too                                many things I love more than potato salad.  (THE LONELY GUITAR              PLAYER REACHES UP FROM BEHIND THE ROCK AND TAKES THE PIE.)  Course there is one thing I love more.

SAM:              Hot apple pie?

ROCKY:        Not a chance.  Out here in the middle of the prairie?

SAM:              Better than potato salad?

ROCKY:        Even if it’s cold.

SAM:              Been heating it ever since we tethered Ace and Queenie down by the                             stream.   Set it over on that rock while you were busy with the saddles.                 A glass cover and a blazing sun can do wonders for a slice of apple pie.  (THE GUITAR PLAYER REPLACES THE PIE ON TOP OF THE ROCK MINUS ONE SLICE.)

ROCKY:        Ice cream?

SAM:              Don’t push your luck.  (SAMANTHA CROSSES TO THE ROCK TO                        BRING BACK THE APPLE PIE.)

ROCKY:        Not too many things I love better than hot apple pie and ice cream.                                (AS ROCKY TAKES A BIG BITE OF PIE, THE LONESOME                              GUITAR PLAYER BEGINS TO STRUM.)  Course, there’s one thing                I love more.

SAM:              A guitar?

ROCKY:        Not too many things I love more than the soft strumming of guitar                                strings.

SAM:              I thought we were going on a picnic alone.  What’s he doing here?

ROCKY:        I don’t see anyone.

SAM:              Come out from behind that rock.  I know you’re there.

ROCKY:        Maybe it’s a solar-powered CD Player.  A solar cell and a blazing sun                           can do wonders for modern technology.

SAM:              CD Player?

ROCKY:        Not too many things I love more than the quadraphonic sound of                          woofers and tweeters reproducing the skillful technique of a master                                musician.   (THE LONESOME GUITAR PLAYER HITS A SOUR                                   CHORD.)

PLAYER:      Sorry!

ROCKY:        (ASIDE)  Not too many things I hate more than a sorry guitar player.

SAM:              Get out here and show your sorry face.

PLAYER:      I can’t.

ROCKY:        He can’t.

SAM:              He most certainly can.  

PLAYER:      No, I can’t.

ROCKY:        No, he can’t.

SAM:              Why not?  Are you legless or just spineless?  (THE LONELY                                         GUITAR PLAYER QUITS STRUMMING.)

ROCKY:        Now you’ve gone and done it?

SAM:              I’ve done it?  Who invited this intruder to our picnic in the first                                     place?

PLAYER:      He did.

ROCKY:        I did.

SAM:              You did?

ROCKY:        I thought it would help create the proper mood, so I could tell you                                 how much I love…

SAM:              My potato salad?

ROCKY:        There’s something I love even more than that.

SAM:              Hot apple pie and ice cream?

ROCKY:        Even more than those.

SAM:              More than Ace?

PLAYER:      Don’t push your luck.

SAM:              I’ve given you your last warning, buster.  Either get out here with that              confounded guitar high above your head or I’m coming to flush you out with guns ablazing.  (SAMANTHA STARTS AROUND ONE  SIDE OF THE ROCK WHILE THE PLAYER RUNS FROM THE OTHER SIDE, HANDS HELD HIGH AND SCREAMING AT THE                          TOP OF HIS LUNGS.)

PLAYER:      Help!   (HE DISAPPEARS AGAIN BEHIND THE ROCK WHILE                             SAMANTHA COMES OUT THE OTHER SIDE.) HELP!

SAM:              Come back here you pie-stealing, string-plucking, party-crashing,                                 two-bit, good-for-nothing…

ROCKY:        (SHOUTING AT THE SAME  TIME AS SAM AND THE GUITAR                          PLAYER)  I love a woman who enjoys being alone with me.  I love                           a woman who isn’t afraid to take matters into her own hands.  I love a                      woman who chases guitar players out of their hiding places.  (THE                         LONELY GUITAR PLAYER SUDDENLY STOPS SHOUTING AS                                     SAMANTHA STOPS CHASING.)  I love… (ROCKY REALIZES IT IS QUIET AND SOFTENS HIS VOICE)  Samantha.

SAM:              More?

ROCKY:        More.

SAM:              More than…?

ROCKY:        ACE.

SAM:              How much more?

ROCKY:        Well, let me put it this way.  I ain’t never going to ask Ace to marry                               me.

(ROCKY AND SAMANTHA EMBRACE AS THE GUITAR PLAYER WALKS OVER AND TAKES THE REST OF THE APPLE PIE.)

PLAYER:      If it ain’t “more than,” it ain’t really love.

(THE LONELY GUITAR PLAYER STARTS STRUMMING AGAIN AS ROCKY AND SAMANTHA WALK HAND IN HAND INTO THE SUNSET.)

The End