Looking for Money – a back to front script

The title says it all really. As a challenge to myself, I wrote a short treatment, back-to-front, in 30 minutes. Okay, maybe not so much as ‘challenged myself’ but told to do it in one of my lectures, but let’s not split hairs. It wasn’t written completely back to front; I can’t even recite the alphabet backwards without the aid of my fingers. Act 3 was the first to be penned and Act 1 the last, so define it how you will.

Act 1: The Saloon

The saloon was filled with scum. It was dirty, even by wild west standards, the smell penetrating upwards into your nostrils and straight into your brain. It was littered with all sorts, especially if that sort is criminal. A cowboy walks through the door of the saloon, rests his hat on the bar, and asks for a single, downing it. The cowboy looked roughed up, clothes torn, bruises on his face; a man down on his luck. He asks the barman if he knows of a quick way at earning cheap money, legal or not. “The dangerous type?” the barman asks. The cowboy asks about something quicker and simpler, maybe with a little less life threatening. The barman looks at him, looks at the handkerchief around his neck that marks out his profession. “A highwayman that doesn’t like blood? Follow me.” The barman walks upstairs and into one of the saloon’s rooms. Inside are five men playing poker around a table with onlookers chatting amongst themselves, all looking criminal but more importantly, they all look rich. The barman closes the door without a word. An English voice calls out from the table, “I see the barman has brought us another stray fish.”

Act 2: The Poker Game

The game is well under way, and all 6 men are in the heat of the moment. Call, raise, call, fold, call, fold, it goes on and on, round after round. The cowboy is no fool and plays his hands well, slowly building up the mound of chips the sit close to his left hand. One player leaves the table, until another, and then another until it is only the cowboy and the English man with a bowler hat. The table is tense. The pair go back and forth, both winning and losing hands until the big one comes. Two Jacks in hand, two on the table, the cowboy has a very good hand. He pushes all his chips into the middle. The Englishman speaks out loud to all the onlookers, claiming this to be the bluff of an ignorant farmhand, “Where did you learn that, huh?” he sneers. The Englishman throws his chips into the middle by the handful, each load crashing loudly onto the table. The pair stair at each other, the cowboy anxious as his life hangs in the balance. The Englishman asks, “You heard it right?” Everyone looking at the table whispers about the amount of money, but the cowboy barely even looks at the chips, never breaking eye contact. He did hear it. The cowboy kicks the table leg out from under the table. A gunshot goes off, a bullet hole resting at the cowboy’s feet below the falling table. The cowboy stands up with the speed of a Viper, pulling his gun in one quick motion and firing it into the Englishman. The cowboy holsters his gun and walks out.

Act 3: The Cowboy Returns Home

The house is empty except for the scattering of old and dusty furniture. A bookshelf hugs the wall with an odd book here and there, a standing piano stands next to it, the keys uncovered as if it smiles into the room. The door creaks open, a slight breeze disturbing the stale room. The cowboy walks into the room, fixes himself a drink, and as he sits in front of the shabby piano, he places a badge onto the piano’s top. He sips his drink and as he presses the first key, a revolver behind him is cocked. “Your partner hid the sound better.” “It wasn’t meant to be hidden,” a voice behind him says. The cowboy doesn’t turn around; he raises his glass to the man behind him, gulps the rest of his drink down, plays the piano, and begins to sing…