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Postmodern Village
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The Adventures of Tex and Red, Scruburban Cowboys
By The Consortium of Concerned Satirists

Establishing shots: Tex and Red drive their massive Chevy Suburban across the four lane blacktop outside sprawling Plano, Texas, arriving at a rare empty piece of land. They spot a strange and beautiful plant at the side of the road. It is bull nettle, Urtica dioica Laportea canadensis.

Tex: Boy, looka' that bush over thar. Sure is purty and down-home lookin'!

Red: I’ll say. Let's pull over for a little look-see.

MLS: They pull over.

Tex: Dang! Lookit all them thorns 'n such!

Red: Yup, shore looks thorny alright.

Highway sounds whoosh through the background.

Tex: Must be one tough little shrub.

Red: I reckon.

TS: They pause as they both contemplate the strange plant.

Red: Hey! Let's thump in once and see if it shakes!

TS: He thumps it with his gator-skin cowboy boots to little effect.

Tex: Not even a flinch!

Red: You know what, Tex? That bush has got what's called re-solve.

Tex: Hoowee, Red! You know some awful big words!

LSes intercut with MCSes: They contemplate some more. Perhaps they're just staring mindlessly. It is hard to tell.

Tex: Hey, Red.

Red: Yeah, Tex?

Tex: I'm a gonna' sit on it.

Red: Naw.

Tex. Yup. I'm a gonna' pull down my jeans and sit on that old, thorny prickle bush.

Red: (Amazed.) Well, I never . . .

TS, as before: Tex unbuckles his outsized belt buckle, unzips, slides down his jeans and underwear simultaneously, and sits on the cactus.

Red: Is it prickly?

Tex, his entire face puckering: Gol-dangit! It prickles! Hoooweee!

Red: Move over. Give me a try.

TS: Red pulls his Wranglers down as well and sits.

Red: Haw! Dag-nabit! That ol' boy prickles!

Tex: I think I got me a sticker a' goin' up my cornhole!

TS: In the background, the Suburban has burst into flame.

Red: Consarn it! I’m a hurtin'! My m-rods feels like they is about ta' bust!

Tex: Hoo!

Red: I’ll tell ya', Tex. That ol' prickle bush has some re-solve.

MLS: They both stand up and pull their blue jeans back up, rezipping and rebuckling.

TS: They look at each other, then at the cactus.

Tex: Red?

Red: Yeah, Tex?

Tex: Let’s do it agin'.

Fade to black.