(WESTERN THEME)
(COWBOY THEME MUSIC AND FADE FOR OUTDOOR AMBIENCE. DISTANT WHINNY. CRACKLE
OF CAMPFIRE)
GK: You think I oughta rehang the lights on the cactus, Dusty? They look
kinda bunched up on that one side.
TR: Looks okay to me.
GK:. How about the stockings on the boulder?
TR: It's okay.
GK: Somethin's botherin you, Dusty. I'm your pardner, I can tell. What's
wrong? Out with it.
TR: Yer gonna give me a book agin for a Christmas gift, aint y'.
GK: Yes, I am.
TR: Y' do that ever year.
GK: Yes.
TR: Last year it was Moby Dick.
GK: Yeah.
TR: I don't read books, Lefty.
GK: Uh huh.
TR: Why'dya allus gimme a book if I don't read em? It's nothing
but a big waste of money. I bet you spend as much on that book as I do
on the bottle of rotgut whiskey I give you every year. Why not give me
something practical?
GK: I don't buy those books, Dusty. I borrow em at the library.
TR: At the library-- you mean--
GK: I take em back after Christmas.
TR: You take back m' gift?
GK: Why not? You never read em. --
TR: Well, if that ain't cheap!
GK: I apply the price of what I mighta bought for you -- I apply it
to the money you've owed me for years now, that you keep borrowing everytime
you go in to the saloon and dance with the floozies and get in a poker
game with Big Blackie and get rather adventurous with nothing but a pair
of sixes.
TR: I was thinking of riding into town tonight.
GK: Christmas Eve?
TR: Thought I'd ride in and go t' th' Longhorn and get a snootful
and come back and crawl into th' sack with a bad headache and wake up
feelin like road kill.
GK: Suit yourself.
TR: So I may as well give y' this--
GK: What's this?
TR: M' Christmas present for y'. Open it. (RUSTLE OF PAPER. TEARING.
RUSTLING)
GK: Why-- it's a guitar.
TR: Yeahp.
GK: A cheap one, but thank you. (STRUM) Why, it's almost in tune.
TR: After I destroyed y'r other one in a fit of music criticism,
I thought I should get y' a new one.
GK: It's nice. Thank y, Dusty.
TR: Hope y' like it.
GK: Preciate that. (STRUMS, THEN BEGINS.....)
Sittin by the fire tonight,
Wait for Christmas Day.
All alone in the cold moonlight,
Gettin old and gray.
My money all was squandered.
My sweetheart she left too.
I'm just a lonely saddle bum
And I'm thinking, Mom, of you. (YODEL)
So loving and so patient
You hoped that I would be
A man of reputation
But I turned into me.
A rounder and a gambler,
A wastrel and roue' --
But I'm sending all my love to you
For it is Christmas Day. (YODEL)
TR: This an original song, Lefty?
GK: Yes, it is.
TR: I thought so.
GK: I sit here on the dusty plains,
Me and my bedroll and hoss,
And I think of your Christmas stuffing
And the nice cranberry sauce.
I've caused you many a heartache
I haven't written for many a year
But I'm thinking of you and your Christmas tree too--
Merry Christmas, Mother dear. (YODEL)
TR: That's right nice, Lefty.
GK: Thank you. (HAWKS. SPITS) Here.
TR: For me?
GK: Yeah. Open it.
TR: Okay. (TEARS PAPER) Why it's Rogget's Thessarus. From the
Laramie Public Library.
GK: Yeah. It's a good thessarus. Full of words.
TR: I see that. "Parsimonious. Penny-pinching. Chintzy. Grudging.
Mean. Miserly. Uncaring. Tight-fisted. Avaricious. Tight. Bush league.
Gnarly. Mangy. Tacky. Two-bit. Low-rent. Stingy. Tinhorn."
GK: G'night, pardner.
TR: Maybe I'll stay up and read f'r awhile.
GK: Okay. Merry Christmas, Dusty. (FADING) You unplug the lights when
y' go t' bed, okay?
TR: Okay. Merry Christmas, pardner.
(THEME)
(WHINNY)
(THEME OUT)