(WESTERN THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS.....brought to you by Lube In a Tube ...(SQUIRT OF GREASE) for hardware or your hair or to tenderize your beefsteak, Lube In A Tube. It makes everything a little more manageable.
(HORSE HOOVES)
GK: Austin, Texas, Dusty. A sight for sore eyes.
TR: I'll say. Were those naked people we saw back there in that park?
GK: I wouldn't know, pardner.
TR: I believe they were. Interesting.
GK: Well, they weren't cowboys, I know that.
TR: Some of them were girls.
GK: They can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy. Without it, you are just a pitiful older person with poochy skin. Let's go into this saloon and reconnoiter, what you say? (WHOAS, HORSES STOP)
TR: Cactus Jack. Interesting name for a saloon. (FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPEN) (PIANO JAZZ VERSION OF CAMPTOWN, PAIR OF FOOTSTEPS ACROSS FLOOR)
GK: Not too crowded. Interesting art on the walls. Abstract depression, I'd say.
SS: Evening, gentleman. Welcome to C.J.'s. What can I get for you?
TR: I'd have a glass of whiskey. No ice, no water, no lemon. Just whiskey.
SS: You want a designer whiskey or an ordinary whiskey?
TR: What's the difference? I want a whiskey that'll make me fall down on the floor.
SS: Well, they both will, but the designer whiskey will make you feel creative on your way down.
TR: I'll take the ordinary.
SS: And you?
GK: I would like a recent vintage cranberry juice.
SS: I'll see what I've got.
(FOOTSTEPS, AND STOP)
RB: Evening, boys. Welcome to Austin. The name is Benny. Benny Raison D'Etre.
TR: Raison D'Etre? So you're French.
RB: Naw. My real name is Ray Benson. But when you're in the real estate business, it helps to have a fancy name.
GK: Wasn't there a singer named Ray Benson?
RB: Different Ray Benson. Great big old guy with a ponytail. Sixty-two. I'm 37 and I weigh 154 and I'm a vegetarian and a black belt in Kundalini yoga.
GK: So how's the real estate market in Austin, Mr. Raison D'Etre.
RB: It's fabulous. A gold mine. I got out of the cattle business in 1982 and now I'm worth 78 million dollars and I only work three months out of the year and the rest of the time I spend in Paris or Rome.
TR: Wow. How'd you do it?
RB: Very simple. I sell real estate in March and April, and then I buy it back in August.
GK: Aha. How ingenious.
RB: People come for the South by Southwest Festival, Austin is in springtime, they fall in love with it, they'll pay a half-million for a renovated chicken coop. In August, it's so hot your underwear hurts, and they sell it back to me for $15,000 and a bottle of whiskey. Speaking of which----- Cynthia, pour me a Marcel Proust.
TR: What's that?
SS: It's gin, grenadine, calvados, 7-up, blue Jell-o, a sliced banana, a spoonful of chili, and a ladyfinger.
RB: Make me a double.
GK: So you spend time in Paris, huh?
RB: Yeah. Love Paris. The Riviera. All of it. I own all the French rights to Willie Nelson. Willie is enormous over there. Earns millions a year.
GK: Willie Nelson is big in France.
RB: Listen to this----- (MUSIC, "ON THE ROAD AGAIN")
TR (WILLIE, SINGS):
Tout ne sur la route.
La vie que j'aime, c'est faire de la musique avec mes amis.
(SLOW SLIDING FOOTSTEPS, RATTLE OF METAL)
GK: Who's this coming?
SS: Oh, this is Cactus Jack.
GK: He the owner?
SS: Used to be, and then he got caught up in the gun movement.
DR (OUT OF BREATH): Hey, Benny. Good to see you. (FOOTSTEPS, AS HE EASES ONTO A STOOL WITH GREAT EFFORT AND SITS DOWN WITH A SERIES OF CLUNKS) Hey, piano player----! (GUNSHOT)
RD: Yes, sir.
DR: What's with the wimpy music---- play the song like it's supposed to be played.
RD: Yes, sir. (CAMPTOWN RACES UPTEMPO)
DR: That's better. ---- Who're you?
GK: The name's Lefty.
DR: I trust your name don't refer to your politics. We got enough of those in Austin.
GK: It refers to the fact that my favorite singer is Lefty Frizzell.
DR: You a songwriter then?
GK: I am. I just wrote a song, "I'd rather ride me a good buckin' bronc than eat escargot with a Sauvignon Blanc".
DR: I am taking a liking to you already. Bring me some rotgut, Cynthia. Here----- give me the bottle. Don't need an opener. (GUNSHOT, GLASS CRUNCH) There. Little ground glass don't hurt any.
SS: You look like you gained some weight, Cactus Jack.
DR: Well, I may have. But I am carrying eleven pistols on me right now and sixteen hand grenades strapped to my waist. In my back pockets are three tear-gas canisters and in my underwear is a rocket launcher. I got an assault rifle fastened to each leg and a smoke bomb in each armpit. Wrapped around my body, next to my skin, are belts holding 400 rounds of ammo.
TR: That's a lot to be carrying.
DR: When I am fully-armed, I weigh approximately 472 pounds.
SS: How do you ever manage to walk?
DR: It ain't easy But if we don't exercise our rights, we lose our rights.
RB: Must be painful for you to live in a place like Austin where people don't care that much about guns.
DR: Pains me every day. I walk down the street and people look at me like I was a freak. Men riding around on bikes in little thongs who got tattoos all over em, they look at me and shake their heads. I don't get it.
RB: You need to get out in the country, Jack. Out where big government doesn't put up traffic lights with signs telling you to walk or don't walk.
DR: You're absolutely right, Benny.
RB: If big government can tell you to walk, then they can tell you where to spit......tell you what you cannot drink while driving.....
DR: It's an outrage, I tell you.
RB: I got a little ranch out on Pismo Lake. Ten acres. Two bedrooms with barn attached. I could let it go for a couple million.
DR: How about three-quarters of a million?
RB: Sold.
DR: So I'll be free out there?
RB: Free as the wind.
SS: Oh oh, look out. Here come the Baptists.
(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. And this pathetic wretch I see before me now, heal him O Lord of his filthiness ---- (SNIFFS) what kind of bourbon is that, Cynthia?
SS: It's a 1989 rotgut, Preacher. You want some?
FN (PREACHER): Strengthen me O Lord against temptation ---- help me turn my back on this temptress, O Lord ----- just a little, Cynthia. Just for a mouthwash.
(FN SIP AND SERIES OF WHOOPS)
FN (PREACHER): Praise the Lord who giveth us the corn and distill in us a more perfect love of thee. (GULPS) Amen! Amen! Thank you, Lord. (STING, AND BRIDGE)
TR: Interesting town, Austin. Giddup. (HORSES HOOVES)
That wasn't a bad song you had there, pardner. The bucking bronc and the Sauvignon Blanc. Maybe someday your ship is going to come in.
GK: Only ship that comes in for me is hardship, Dusty. So who's going to get the hotel room and who's going to sleep out with the herd?
TR: You better go out to the cattle. You're better at singing them to sleep.
GK: I guess so. See you in the morning.
(THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS........brought to you by Lube in a Tube (SQUORT) .....for hair or beefsteak or hardware...(MUSIC OUT)