Even Cowgirls Get The Blues Page #24

As graceful as a ballet for cobras, Delores turns and walks

away into the night.

EXT. RANCH GATES DAY

THE FBI, other VIGILANTES and POLICEMEN wait in anticipation

of an attack outside of the boundaries of the ranch.

EXT. THE COWGIRL COMPOUND DAY

Jelly is addressing the group of cowgirls.

JELLY:

Well, what we got to do is one of us

has got to go up that hill and tell

them boys that America can have its

whooping cranes back. Since I'm the

boss here, and since I'm responsible

for a lot of you choosing to be

cowgirls in the first place, it's

gonna be me that goes...

Small protests from the circle of cowgirls.

JELLY:

No buts about it. It's getting lighter

by the second. You podners keep your

heads down. Ta ta.

The cutest cowgirl in the world stood up and stretched out.

COWGIRL:

Jelly! Please!

But Jelly is already on her way.

BONANZA JELLYBEAN VAULTS over the carcass of a reducing

machine and plants her Tony Lama boots in the stirrup of her

saddle and straddles her horse and takes off.

EXT. COMPOUND DAY

The posse surrounding the ranch, can see Jelly coming over

the hill on her horse at a full gallop.

EXT. HILL DAY

Jelly stops her horse, looks down at her waist, and sees her

sixguns.

JELLY:

Better get rid of these. Might give

those greenhorn dudes a fright.

THROUGH the scope of an FBI rifle, Jelly is drawing her gun

out of her holster.

AGENT:

She's going to fire....

He squeezes the trigger, and Jelly is caught in the stomach

with a bullet. She falls off her horse to the ground.

THE CHINK sees Bonanza Jellybean cut down from a vantage

point on the hill, and makes a beeline for the government

barricades, SHOUTING.

THE COWGIRLS scream and cry, and grab their weapons. A couple

of them leap from the barricade and are immediately riddled.

EXT. HILL DAY

The six-gun slips from her fingers.

Twenty or thirty more sweaty triggers are squeezed on the

hilltop firing at Bonanza Jellybean.

THE CHINK RUNNING AND SHOUTING.

EXT. COWGIRL CAMP DAY

A VOICE OVER THE BULLHORN directed at the cowgirls echoes:

VOICE:

You've got two minutes to come out

with you hands over your heads!

RANDOM G-MEN are sniping at the cowgirls, making it impossible

to surrender.

A stray bullet SENDS THE CHINK back down the hillside, beard,

robe and sandals flying.

IN THE HUSH that follows, in the echoes of the explosive

fire, the whooping crane flock rises in one grand assault of

beating feathers - a lily white storm of life, a gush of

albino Gabriels -- swarm into the waiting sky, and circle

the pond one time before flapping south toward Texas...

...they cast shadows over a dead Jellybean who is literally

biting the dust.

Sissy lifts Jelly out of the dust and holds her. Sissy lifts

Jelly's satin shirt tail and pulls down the waistband of her

skirt. Bright red blood is running out of her scar.

JELLY:

Right in the scar where I fell on a

wooden horse when I was twelve. Haw,

I wasn't really shot with a silver

bullet.

Confessing to Sissy.

JELLY:

Or was I?

EXT. NEW YORK SKY

The cranes fly over the Statue of Liberty.

EXT. PARISIAN SKY

The Cranes fly over the Eiffel tower.

EXT. RUSSIAN SKY

The Cranes fly over Red Square.

INT. MORGUE DAY

An undertaker pounding five nails into a white coffin. ON

THE TOP OF THE COFFIN are engraved two crossed GOLD SIXGUNS.

There are eleven famous cowgirls enameled on the edges and

in the middle it reads:

BONANZA JELLYBEAN

1944-1973

"Ha ha ho ho and hee hee"

Title card:

The brown paper bag.

A brown paper bag is sitting on the side of the road.

A VOICE:

The brown paper bag is the only thing

civilized man has produced that does

not seem out of place in nature.

Crumpled into a wad of wrinkles,

like the fossilized brain of a dryad;

its kinship to tree (to knot and

nest) unobscured by the cruel crush

of industry; absorbing the elements

like any other organic entity;

blending with rock and vegetation as

if it were a burrowing owl's door

mat or a jack rabbit's underwear, a

No. 8 Kraft paper bag lay discarded

in the hills of Dakota and appeared

to live where it lay. Once long ago,

it had borne a package of buns and a

jar of mustard to a kitchenette

rendezvous with a fried hamburger.

More recently, the bag had

held........ love letters.

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