calffries

EXCERPT

FISH STEW AND CALF FRIES

A comic drama of the contemporary

southwest in 2 acts

ACT I, SCENE i

AT RISE

At curtain rise COOKIE, wearing blue jeans, plaid shirt, felt cowboy hat, is seated at the stage left side of the table. HE has his feet on the table and is leaning back reading a newspaper while HE sips from a blue enamel cup. After HE reads for a moment the muted sound of a vehicle engine, slamming car door, and the murmur of voices are heard off stage right. COOKIE listens attentively, then drops his chair back to the floor, folds his newspaper, and, carrying his coffee cup and newspaper, passes from the living area into the cook room as

RANAHAN steps onto the porch at stage right, opens the door and enters the living area. RANAHAN wears blue jeans with a huge silver buckle, boots, battered Stetson, and chambray shirt. HE carries a small flight bag in one hand and has a saddle slung over his shoulder.

RANAHAN

(Crosses room, dumps the saddle and bag on the table, spins around and declares)

By damn, I made it! I really, really made it.

(HE dances a little jig then bounds to the door and waves, calling out)

So long now! See y'all in September!

(Engine sounds fade into the distance as RANAHAN waves and COOKIE enters from cook room. RANAHAN turns and sees COOKIE standing beyond the table, arms folded across chest, grim countenance)

RANAHAN (Cont'd)

(Crosses to COOKIE wearing big smile, extending hand for handshake)

Howdy, Pardner! My handle's Ranahan Muridae, pleased to make your acquaintance.

COOKIE

(Ignores Ranahan's hand)

Just what in the name o' Billy's blue blazes is goin' on here?

RANAHAN

(Taken aback)

Huh?

COOKIE

(Pointing with sweeping hand gesture)

Just exactly what is this pile o' trash doin' on my table?

RANAHAN

Why, that isn't a pile of trash. That's my saddle and kit bag.

COOKIE

Maybe you could 'splain me how come your stinkin' ol' saddle and truck is on my table? Do this here table look like a horse to you? Do you reckon it will go to buckin' 'round the room any second now? You reckon it is your little wooden hobby horse all growed up? Do it look like a horse of any type or description to you? A Tableoosa? A Thorotable?

RANAHAN

(Nonplused)

Well, no sir. It doesn't look like a horse... I know it is a table. It was just a good handy place to set down my gear...

(Regaining self-confidence)

Besides, my saddle doesn't stink. It has never even been on a horse, for crying out loud.

COOKIE

(Mimics)

“Never even been on a horse, for cryin' out loud!” I bet it is your best-used kack at that.

RANAHAN

(Bewildered again)

Kack?

(Almost sneering)

Saddle.

RANAHAN

Oh... Well, it is the only saddle I have, but it still has never been on a horse.

COOKIE

How 'bout your ownself.

RANAHAN

Huh?

COOKIE

You ever been on a horse?

RANAHAN

(Offended)

Well, I should hope to say I have been on a horse. I have been on lots of horses, quite a few of them for the full eight seconds.

COOKIE

(Mimics)

“I been on lots o' horses fer 8 seconds!” So, fancy yourself a bronc buster, huh?

RANAHAN

(Puffs up in obvious pride)

Well, I wouldn't want to brag, but I won this saddle for being “Best All Around Cowboy.”

COOKIE

“Best All Around Cowboy!” So, now you come up to the mountains for a few months to teach the plain ol' reg'lar cowboys a thing or two, huh?

RANAHAN

(Getting a little fed up)

Say, I don't even know who the heck you are, anyway. And do you have to repeat everything I say?

COOKIE

“Do you have to repeat everything I say?” No, I don't reckon I have to, but if I want to, I reckon I will. Reckon I will re-peat it, three-peat it, or four-peat it if'n I danged well want to. And I am Cookie Mumsford.

RANAHAN

You are the X Bar X cook?

COOKIE

Indeed I am. And this here is my cook house. And if'n your kack ain't off my table pretty damn quick you are gonna spend the next three months searchin' your chow for sawdust, road apples, and soap shavin's.

RANAHAN

(Grabs saddle and kit bag, snatches them off table)

Excuse me, Cookie, I didn't mean any offense. It just looked like a good place to put my gear.

COOKIE

(Mollified)

Well, it ain't. This here table is for eatin' off of. Maybe playin' a friendly card game or two or writin' a letter to your old gray haired mother, but it is not for a repository for yer ol' saddle and truck. What's yer name, anyway?

RANAHAN

Like I said before, my handle is Ranahan Muridae.

COOKIE

“Ranahan,” huh? Last I heard, that was just a nickname applied to a top hand, a stud-duck cowboy, a bull-goose looney with a lariat in his hand. I mean your name , boy. How does that old gray haired Momma of yours call you in to supper? What's your real name, bronc buster?

RANAHAN

Oh... Well, my proper name...that is to say, my given name... is Michael.

COOKIE

So your family calls you Mickey, huh? Mickey Muridae, huh?

(LEW, dressed like RANAHAN except without the huge belt buckle crosses the porch and enters)

RANAHAN

(To COOKIE)

No, no! Michael! But nowadays I answer to Ranahan.

LEW

(To RANAHAN)

Hey, Mickey, give me a hand with those suitcases, can't you?

COOKIE

“Mickey?”

RANAHAN

(Scowling, to LEW)

What did I just get done telling you, Carroll Lewis Muridae? For the ten thousandth time? Huh?

LEW

Oh, yeah, sorry Mickey...I mean Ranahan ! How about giving me a hand with those bags Ranahan ? Three fourths of that garbage is yours anyway.

COOKIE

(Around RANAHAN to LEW)

Did you use the boot scraper, boy?

LEW

Huh?

COOKIE

The boot scraper out by the porch, boy. Did you use it?

LEW

Well, geez mister, I didn't step in anything, just walking from the van to the porch. I didn't step in anything.

COOKIE

Did you look? How do you know your bootheels ain't all loaded up with dog squat an' cow flop an' goose squirt and such not if'n you did not look and you did not scrape?

LEW

(Glancing down at his boots)

Well, geez...

COOKIE

Not now! Don't do no good to look at your dang boots now, now that you are all of the way into my house, it don't! You had better learn right now to use that danged boot scraper ever dang time you come into my house, yes you had!

LEW

(Much impressed)

Your house? You don't mean to say you are Mr. Tucker himself? Wow! It is really a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Tucker. You can bet I'll use that boot scraper from now on! Sorry about the oversight, but I figured just walking over the hard packed dirt yard with no animals around and so forth, and since no animals had passed by, why there could not have been any animal passings, if you know what I mean, so I--

COOKIE

(Interrupts)

--Stop your blather, boy. What in the name of Billy blue blazes is wrong with you, anyhow? You been cow kicked or bull-bucked once too often? 'Course I ain't Mr. Tad Tucker. What would a billionaire like Mr. Tucker be doin' out here in the middle of nowheres with a bunch of nobodies like you? I am sure Mr. Tucker is off running businesses, buyin' and sellin' and so forth, chasin' actresses, doin' what he is good at.

RANAHAN

Don't be goofy, Lewis. This man is lots more important and more powerful than a mere billionaire like Mr. Tucker. This here is our camp cook!

COOKIE

And don't you forget it, neither, Mr. Mickey Bronc Buster! Don't forget it unless you and your pard wanna spend--

RANAHAN

(Interrupts)

--the next three months searchin' our chow for sawdust, road apples, and soap shavin's. Relax Cookie, we don't intend to bedevil the king of the cook house, we know better than that. All we want to do is play along and get along.

COOKIE

It don't help your case none to be such a smart alecky little gooseberry, neither.

(RANAHAN begins to respond but is interrupted by LEW)

LEW

Well, hey, Mic-- Ranahan! Ranahan, how about givin' me a hand with those bags?

RANAHAN

Sure, Lew, let's go and get 'em inside before this Cookie clouds up and rains all over 'em.

COOKIE

Just take yer gear around to the bunk room door, it's just around the side. No sense trackin' your dirt and such through here 'thout no need. There's twenty bunks over there, just pick a couple that suit you.

(Carrying saddle and kit bag, LEW and RANAHAN exit across the porch. As they exit FELIPE, hitherto unnoticed, rises from the bottom bunk at the back of the room. HE is dressed in denims and plaid shirt. HE screws his battered straw hat down on his head as COOKIE observes him, then FELIPE saunters up to the table, sits down and leans back, pretentiously placing his booted feet on the table top)

FELIPE

You were pretty rough on those boys, weren't you Cookie? All that horse hockey about not bringing goose squirts into your house or you'd sabotage their chow...

COOKIE

(Chuckling slightly)

Aw, Felipe, it's good for fellas like that to get the red ass a little bit every now and again. Did you ever see two such greenies in your livelong life? I thought the little fella was going to have a heart attack trying to see whatever he might have tracked in on his boots! It don't hurt none to give their cook-respect levels a little booster shot when they first get here.

FELIPE.

Yeah, if you give them a boost when they first arrive, it might take a week or two for them to get your number. Well, go ahead and twist their tails a little bit if you want to, just don't get too carried away. Remember that there is at least one cowboy on the old X Bar X that already has that number of yours.

COOKIE

Well, honest to God Felipe, what are a couple of greenies like that doin' out here, anyway? Those are townboys if ever I saw a townboy! What the hell can they know about the Cowboy Way? Makes my blood boil, them comin'--

SCENE CONTINUES, PLAY CONTINUES

(FISH STEW AND CALF FRIES excerpt ends)

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