"Gospel"
		  
		   By
		
		Mark Fisher





FADE IN.

EXT. Street of an old western town - Night

The town is quiet; the sound of crickets chirping lightly 
fills the air. The only sign of life is the local bar which 
is lit up. Figures can be seen silhouetted in windows and 
busy muffled sounds can be heard from inside.

INT. Crowded bar - Night

Inside the bar is packed with patrons. It is busy and noisy. 
A bustle can be heard coming from behind a kitchen door as a 
stressed looking waiter comes in and out with various food 
dishes.

In the centre of the room a man can be seen on a table 
preaching to the drinking men at the top of his voice.

		PREACHER
	Repent yo' evil ways sinnas. You have 
	strayed from the righteous path. Like 
	seeds scattered on stone yo' soul have 
	been pick clean by ravens. 
	They still hope fo' you yet, a chance 
	to pass through the ravens innards 
	undigested, to the light on the other 
	side. All ya must do is quit droppin' 
	your drawers for whores and bung that 
	whiskey bottle.

There is a groan of disapproval from the crowd and a borage 
of drinks glasses fly past the preacher.

		PATRON
	Ain't no whores in heaven, ain't no 
	heaven to me. (Laughter)

There's a roar of approval. The preacher continues 
regardless.

		Preacher
	Whiskey, the devils effluent, from his 
	bladder to your lips, clouds your mind 
	and blurs yo' morals. When I am fazed 
	and hazed I have a moral compass that 
	is true and in-dee-fallible. 

He pulls a gospel from his bag and holds it out to his side.

		Preacher
	The gospel is that compass.

There is a loud bang as a hole is blown right through the 
centre of the gospel. The bar falls silent as everyone looks 
to where the shot came from. In the corner sits

MCGRAW

His feet up on a table, he leans back casually in his chair 
holstering his gun.

		MCGRAW
	Barrel of a gun, that my compass. 
	Nothin' gets straight to the point like 
	a bullet. Which insedenely your 
	britches will be getting a taste of 
	forthwith. Unless you tote that squawk 
	someplace else that is. 

The preacher gives a reticent mumble as he looks on nervous.

		McGraw
	Not many men can outrun a bullet, now 
	git.

EXT. Front porch of the bar - Same

The Preacher comes running out the door tripping on a 
jutting board and falls out onto the street, directly into a 
puddle. He gets up and runs down the street shouting.

		Preacher
	Y'all goin the pits of firey damnation, 
	when the lord strikes...

His voice fades as he disappears into the night.

INT. Crowded bar - Same

The bar starts to go back to normal when shouting can be 
heard from behind the kitchen door. The door swings open and 
a large lady in an apron comes barging through.

		BERTHA
	Who has been discharging firearms in my 
	bar?!

The waiter pokes out from behind Berthas large frame and 
impishly points over to McGraw.

		Bertha
	What say you, smoking gun? Couldn't 
	keep your itchy trigger finger up your 
	backside where it belongs. 

McGraw looks on indignantly.

		McGraw
	Jus' sortin' out a nuisance whose 
	opinion is bigger than his nuts. I don' 
	appreciate your tone.

		Bertha
	A nuisance that preacher might be, but 
	in civilised society words are usually 
	dished before bullets.

		McGraw
	Words were dished, jus' mostly served 
	by his end. My silence was enough said, 
	I jus' punctuated it with a bullet.
	His gospel ain't gonna stop a slug in a 
	gun fight. Rather a pistol than faith 
	any blue morning. 

		Bertha
	We've had your kind here before, 
	hardnosed, hard headed, hard assed gun 
	slingers. No manners and no grace, 
	thinking they can resolve all their 
	disputes with a gun and a frown. 
	No dispute ever lasted past a good 
	meal. I've reconciled 10 year old feuds 
	over a single course meal while the 
	likes of your kind would shoot them in 
	the face and consider it a favour.

Bertha reaches into her giant cleavage and pulls out a cook 
book and slams it down on the table in front of McGraw.

		Bertha
	My Gospel is my cook book and it has 
	yet to fail me.

		McGraw
	Well I live my life by a simple book 
	too. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tattered old book 
with several bullet holes. He places it down in front of 
Berthas book.

		McGraw
	The gunslingers guide book. It has two 
	pages. Page one, I kill you now. Page 
	two, we duel and I kill you later.

		Bertha
	Fine good sir, I feel like teaching a 
	lesson. Tomorrow we shall duel. Noon in 
	the square, I'll show how a home cooked 
	meal beats a shoot out any sour day.

		McGraw
	I ain't never turned down a duel yet.

McGraw rises from his chair and saunters across to the door 
and turns.

		McGraw
	Hope you wear your best coffin.

McGraw exits the bar.

The patron's gaze shifts to Bertha.

		Patron
	Don' ya know who that is, Bertha? That 
	Sparker 'Quick Draw' McGraw, he...

		Bertha
	I know, I know, he faster than piss 
	outa a mule. Now if ya don' mind, I 
	gotta kitchen to run.

Bertha turns and saunters into her kitchen, 
seeming unfazed.

EXT. Shop front, local grocery store - Day

The next morning the preacher leaves the local store with a 
fresh new gospel in hand. 

		Preacher
	Boy howdy, nothing likes a fresh gospel 
	to reinvigorate ones faith in the big 
	feller.

He walks across the promenade looking pleased with himself, 
the gospel out in front of him. Without even noticing he 
walks right up to McGraw who emerges out from a doorway. 

McGraw without even a glance punches a hole right through 
the centre of the gospel, ruining it, then casually walks 
towards the town square.

EXT. Town square - Same

The duel is set for noon and they both stand facing each 
other ten minutes to noon. McGraw stands alone.

Bertha stands surrounded by cooking utensils and cookers. 

An adjudicator walks to the centre.

		ADJUDICATOR
	Lady and gentleman, you have both 
	agreed to duel here today. The rules 
	are simple, you both must fire your 
	weapon of choice on the strike of noon 
	and the first to draw and hit their 
	opponent wins. Sparker McGraw, your 
	weapon of choice is a colt 45 peace 
	maker. Bertha McCaw, you have chosen 
	your kitchen. You both may begin. An' 
	Bertha, good luck.

He quickly retreats to the safety of the doorways 
and looks on with the rest of the town.

There is a flurry of action as Bertha gets to work, cracking 
eggs, pouring milk and whisking. 

McGraw stands in silence staring. 

The clock ticks down to noon.

Bertha is still busy mixing. At one minute to go it still 
looks as if Bertha won't be ready as she throws the prepared 
dishes in the stove.

McGraw smirks to himself thinking there's no way she can 
win. 

Bertha turns and gives a nod to a spectator behind her.
He pulls a lever which drops a hanging sheet revealing 2 old 
men asleep on 2 pedal bikes. 

Another lever is pulled and water is dumped on the men 
waking them. 

Two whiskey bottles on string drop down in front the men and 
they start pedalling feverishly in an attempt to reach them.

The bikes are attached to a load of cogs and cranks which 
work a giant stoking pump. A huge gust of air is blown into 
the stove super heating it cooking the dishes instantly. 

There is a tick as the clock swings to noon and there is a 
silence that seems to stretch forever before the bell 
strikes.

McGraw draws but before his gun is level he is hit by two 
cream pies in the face in quick succession, then a third, a 
quiche hits him firmly in the crotch. He falls back and 
fires into the air.

EXT. A Mile from town - Same

The preacher sits on top of an old donkey heading away from 
town, looking dejected. He looks down to the donkey.

		Preacher
	Pepper, that here town is doomed to 
	damnation. They destroy ma gospel and 
	reject the word of the lord but I still 
	have my faith an' I still have ma 
	pocket gospel.

He reaches into his front shirt pocket and pulls out a 
miniature gospel and holds it aloft.

There is a whizz and a buff as McGraw's stray bullet flies 
past hitting the gospel. The air is filled with tiny shards 
of paper and they fall to the ground. The preachers head and 
shoulders drop.

		Preacher
	Damn.

EXT. Town Square - Same

McGraw lies there defeated. He sits up and wipes cream from 
his face.

		McGraw
	I...I lost. I never lose.

		Bertha
	You never had an opponent worth a damn 
	before.

		McGraw
	But I faced off against Dirty Gregg 
	Slinger, the fastest gun in New Mexico 
	and won. I...I fought the Bear skin 
	gang and came out widout a scratch. 
	I...I...

Bertha interrupts.

		Bertha
	Have never had a meal made by me. Now 
	if there's nothing more I expect you be 
	leaving town, I have lunch to be 
	makin'.

McGraw turns and starts walking away, shoulders dropped and 
dragging his feet. The town goes back to normal.

There is a bustle on the street as people go about their 
business. The scene then fades to an empty street with one 
or two men sitting at their porches, the evening sky red and 
the sun low on the horizon. Then there is a final fade to 
night, the street empty and silent except for the crickets.

CUT TO  

INT. Berthas bedroom, 2nd Floor - Night

Bertha lies asleep in her bed. There is a tap tap, as stones 
hit the window of Bertha's room. She wakes and opens up the 
window and looks out to see McGraw below, a shattered 
figure.

EXT. Outside Berthas bedroom window - Same

		McGraw
	Bertha... you... gotta help me. I left 
	town and found a big ol' rock an' I sat 
	there for hours, just thinkin'. Just 
	thinkin', till the buzzards were 
	hoverin.
	I lost sight of life. I nee yo' help 
	Bertha. Wone you help me?

She ponders for a moment.

		Bertha
	Come on in ya big galoot.

McGraw heads in.

FADE OUT

INT. Berthas Kitchen - Day

McGraw stands in the kitchen, dwarfed by the piles of 
vegetables, meat and pots. Bertha stands by the door.

		Bertha
	You can start your redemption here. 
	Menu there, cook books are there. Now 
	get to work, breakfast rush starts in 
	20 minute.

Bertha walks out closing the door behind her.
McGraw steps up to some tomatoes and starts to cut them 
slowly with a knife. As he's chopping he catches his finger 
on the knife and gives a holler.

Frustrated he continues only to cut himself again.

In anger he steps back draws his guns and lets loose a 
volley at the tomatoes. 

When the smoke clears, the tomatoes have been diced 
perfectly. He looks at the guns in his hands.

INT. Berthas Kitchen - Later

We see several large pots on the hob boiling away. They are 
covered in dents caused by bullets. The walls are covered in 
bullet holes.

McGraw is whizzing around the kitchen. He tenderises meat 
with the butt his gun, flicks some onions up and shoots them 
in mid air having them land in the boiling pots perfectly 
cut.

He shoots the latch in stove door and it falls down with a 
thud, he then throws two large trays of prepared chickens 
and kicks the door shut.

Bertha screams in the half open door.

		Bertha
	Need a smorgasbord o' roast chicken an' 
	pork. Miners meetin' just let out an' 
	they hungy.

McGraw gives a nod, pauses for a second and smiles then gets 
to work.

EXT. Window of the kitchen - Same

We see a silhouette of McGraw as he works. Dashing from left 
to right and back again, firing volleys around the room. His 
life a little more wholesome than before.




		THE END
 


Copyright Mark Fisher 2008