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)
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.
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