(WESTERN THEME)
Sue Scott: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS... brought to you by Santa Fe Brand Food Flavoring -- if a diet of salt pork, hardtack, and grub is getting you down, add some Cinnamon Mocha or Strawberry Bananaccino and liven it up. Now, let's rejoin Dusty and Lefty for another exciting adventure.
(OUTDOOR AMBIENCE, CATTLE, HORSES' HOOVES)
Garrison Keillor: Well, Dusty, I'd say we're purt near Minneapolis -- I can smell the Thai cooking.
Tim Russell: I thought they had hotdish in Minneapolis.
GK: Used to and then the shipment of spices arrived. Now all the hotdish has Thai or Indian names and it all has garlic and cilantro in it.
TR: Well, a hot dish is what I am hoping to find in Minneapolis. One with hot lips and a big imagination.
GK: Wrong time of year for romance, partner. Too many layers of clothing. By the time you get em undressed, they're not in the mood anymore. And sometimes you pick someone of the wrong gender. Hard to tell here.
TR: I won't find a beautiful woman who wants to form a temporary relationship with an old saddle bum?
GK: I wouldn't say never. This is a state that elected a professional wrestler to be governor, so there are no hard and fast rules in Minnesota. These are people never to be underestimated. But be careful.
TR: Let's ride! Haw! Giddup! Let's go!! (WHINNY)
(HORSES HOOVES, MUSIC)
(FOOTSTEPS ON BOARDWALK)
GK: Hennepin Avenue...the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Want to go to the penny arcade and shoot our rifles?
TR: Nothing like finishing up a cattle drive and walking into town with a pocket full of money. Makes you feel like it wasn't just for the sunsets. You know?
GK: Yeah. As a purely aesthetic experience, cowboying doesn't make much sense. Well, here's a bar here.
TR: "The Slop Bucket Saloon. Shirt & Shoes Optional. Smokers Welcome. Please Bring Your Guns."
GK: Our sort of place--(SWINGING DOORS OPEN; SALOON MUSIC)
TR: This is our crowd all right. I'd guess that not many people here have just come from a poetry reading.
SS: (GRUFF) What'll it be, gentlemen?
TR: A glass of your best single-rot rotgut whiskey.
SS: Okay. How about you, handsome?
GK: Me? Oh. Well. I wonder if you might happen to have some iced tea?
SS: (GRUFF) What you say? You say-- iced tea? (SALOON GOES SILENT, MUSIC STOPS, WHISPERING AND MUTTERING)
GK: Something wrong with iced tea? I thought in Minneapolis--
SS: What kind of iced tea might you be looking for?
GK: How about a chamomile?
SS: Chamomile?
GK: If you don't have it, maybe a peppermint.
(FOOTSTEPS SLOW APPROACHING)
TR: Oh, oh. Here comes Big Messer. He don't look all that happy.
GK: He never looks happy.
TR: He looks even less happy than usual. (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH AND STOP)
Tom Keith: Your name Lipton?
GK: No, it isn't.
TK: Well, I think I'm gonna start calling you Lipton from now on. Or Lippy for short. Or Lips Lipmeister. What do you think of that?
GK: I'd say it's up to you, Princess, call me what you like.
TK: What'd you call me?
GK: Princess.
TK: Why you dirty rotten sidewindin scum-suckin cheatin lyin-- (CELLPHONE RINGS) Excuse me-- (CLICK) Yeah? -- Oh, hi.---- Yeah, I was just on my way. -- I know I said that but----- No, I'm not at the saloon, I'm at the office-- (WHISPERS LOUDLY) MAKE THE SOUND OF TYPEWRITERS -- (SFX) -- Yeah, Darling-- I'm listening---- coffee.....a pound of butter...bacon.......a pound of navy beans...celery....and paprika. Okay. Got it. (CLICK)
GK: ...Sounds to me like you found yourself a new trail boss, Big Messer.
TK: Gimme a drink, Flossie.
SS: Comin' right up, Big Messer.
GK: What's her name?
TK: I ain't sayin.
TR: So you marry her? Or you still renting?
TK: I don't want to talk about it.
GK: He's married her. I can tell by that hangdog look.
TK: I got tired of independent living. I needed a rest.
TR: "Arrest" as in arrest and put in jail.
TK: How come you called me Princess, Lefty?
GK: Just a hunch. I saw the cellphone in your pocket. I'd always wanted to call you Princess, and I know from experience that a man who carries a cellphone is a man of liberal temperament and unlikely to want to roll around on the floor, biting and kicking and gouging. And also you look considerably shined up from when I saw you last.
TR: Sure do. Used to be grease and grime on you and you stank like a buffalo and had nose hair like big tusks. Now you look almost civilized.
TK: She got me a job.
GK: No!!!!
TK: Got me a job at the barbershop.
TR: Well, dog my cats.
GK: When'd you learn to cut hair?
TK: I don't cut it. I sit behind a desk and make appointments for people to have their hair cut.
TR: Big Messer a receptionist.
GK: Since when did Crazy Dave start making appointments?
TK: We don't call him Crazy Dave anymore. He's called Mr. Daveed.
TR: So you sit there and --
TK: I sit there and when cowpokes come in and say, Gimme a haircut, I say, "Mr. Daveed has an opening around 2:30 on Wednesday."
GK: That must not sit too well with some of them.
TK: It doesn't. Sometimes I have to pound some sense into them. Sometimes they draw on me and I have to whip out Mr. Samuel Colt and let him do the talking.
GK: So Minneapolis takes hair styling seriously.
TK: There's three fellas up on Boot Hill for whom 2:30 on Wednesday will never come around.
GK: To die with bad hair-- that's serious.
(FOOTSTEPS)
SS: Mr. Messer -- I'm ready for you now. Come up and we'll get started. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
TR: Who was that?
TK: I ain't saying.
TR: It was your therapist, wasn't it.
TK: None of your business.
TR: It was your therapist. I could tell. She's a therapist. Those earth tone clothes, the soft-soled shoes? The necklace made from bits of wood and pottery? She's your therapist, Big Messer.
TK: You keep your voice down.
TR: You're going to a therapist! And I know why! Because you're trying to learn how to manage your aggression!
TK: Oh yeah??? Manage my aggressions, huh???? How about I manage your aggressions-- (CELLPHONE) -- excuse me -- (CLICK) Yeah,honey. --- Cilantro. Okay. -- how do you spell that? -- c-i---- just a minute, not so fast -- c-i-l --
TR: Cilantro, you dummy. S-l-a-n-d-e-r-o --
TK: Git your hands off my pencil.
TR: Just trying to help--
TK: Excuse me, honey. I'm gonna set the phone down for a minute. ---- You filthy, ignorant --(HE SWINGS, FIST FIGHT, PUNCHES, GROANS, GLASS BREAKAGE, CHAIR IS SWUNG AND WOOD BREAKAGE, FADES UNDER...)
GK: Dusty and Big Messer had a good knock-down fight while I sat there with my chamomile tea and a few hours later Dusty and I were riding down the trail toward St. Paul to the stockyards. (HORSE HOOVES, WALKING) I tell you, you don't know what happiness is until you get married, Dusty, and then it's too late. Happiness is freedom.
TR: Riding through town and looking at people and knowing they gotta stay here and you don 't.
GK: The open road that leads to the horizon.
TR: The feel of a good horse under you.
GK: The feel of a guitar in your hand.
TR: Oh no. -- Come on, I got a headache already. (GUITAR STRUM)
GK: (SINGS) When that western sun is setting
On the North Dakota plains
And I am riding eastward to St. Paul.
On the trail along the river
From Fort Snelling to downtown
And I can hear those catfish call.
Ridin down the river as the sun goes down
A picture you won't find in the rotogravure
SUVs a-honkin' on the Interstate
They wish that they were me, I'm sure.
They're lookin at a cowboy
From the days gone by
A man of mythological renown
I don't know where I'm headin
But I'm happy as can be
To know that I am leavin town.
(THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS... brought to you by Saddlex, a new prescription drug that helps prevent dizziness from the motion of your horse. Ask your doctor if Saddlex is right for you.
(MUSIC OUT)