Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Brokeback Quailhunt

Brilliant parody from Ace of Spades!

Brokeback Quailhunt

SCENE: Two friends, DICK CHENEY and HENRY WHITTINGTON, share a tent in a marsh. A fire burns as they eat pork and beans out of cans.

DICK: Well, that was a good meal.

HENRY: That's the most words you've said since we've been out here.

DICK: I don't talk much. (tosses bean can aside) Well, guess I better get back to the quail-blind. Want to wake up early to get the early bird.

HENRY: Don't go tonight. It's going to storm. Spend the night in the tent.

DICK: The tent?

HENRY: Sure. It sleeps two.

DICK looks conflicted.


Dick and Henry sleep in seperate sleeping bags.

HENRY: Damn, this cold air is making my elbows hurt. Old football injury.

DICK: I can put some Tiger Balm on it.

Henry extends his arm. Dick begins massaging in the hot salve. They look meaningfully into each other's eyes.

Then Dick takes out a 28 guage shotgun and shoots Henry in the face.

They both fall back into their sleeping bags, spent. And Henry, bleeding profusely from the face and neck.

DICK: No one can know about this thing of ours.

HENRY: Yeah, no one. They wouldn't understand. No one can know... except the emergency room team at the hospital. I think some birdshot just slipped into my carotid artery. It's on the way to my heart. I may have a minor atrial fibrilation.

DICK: A special friendship'll do that.


SCENE: After parting ways for some time, Dick and Henry depart from their wives to meet again in a quail marsh.

The friends shake hands, happy to see each other again. Then they hug, manfully, but passionately.

Then Dick takes out a shotgun and shoots Henry in the hip.

Dick and Henry both collapse into the marsh grass. Dick, because he's spent from the overpowering emotion; Henry, because his hip is badly wounded and he's lost 90% of the blood-flow to his right leg.

HENRY: Dick... do you think it's possible that one day we'll come out here, be "special friends" together, with no cares and no worries... and you won't shoot me with your shotgun?

DICK: Maybe. One day. When the world is ready to understand this thing of ours.

HENRY: When do you think that will be, Dick?

DICK: Ever see Blade Runner?

HENRY: Yeah.

DICK: Sometime after that.

HENRY: I can't wait.

Henry passes out from shock. Dick cradles his head.


SCENE: Henry is arguing with his wife about another upcoming quail hunt.

HENRY: We're just friends! That's all it is!

WIFE: I looked at your gun the last time you got back! It hadn't even been fired!

HENRY: I never got a chance to fire it. Dick shot me within ten minutes of getting there. I spent the weekend in the ER.

WIFE: I think it's just sick... you spending all this time with your "friend," him shooting you. It's... not proper.

HENRY: You don't understand. You can't understand!

Henry leaves in a huff.

As he exits the front door, a tear flows from one eye. And then a steel birdshot flows out, expelled by his tear duct. He wipes the birdshot away.


SCENE: Henry and Dick sit before a fire, beside a calm river. Dick chews on beef jerky; Henry uses tweezers to pluck birdshot out of his ass.

DICK: This jerky is delicious.

HENRY: It sure is. It's the best in Texas.

DICK: Mmmmm.

HENRY: You can say that again. (pause) Dick... I hate to ask again, but... How long you think it's going to be before you stop shooting me in the face and buttocks?

DICK: If you can't fix it, you gotta stand it.

HENRY: Yeah, you keep saying that. But, see, we can fix it. You can just stop shooting me. It's not difficult. You just stop pointing a shotgun at me and blasting away pieces of my body.

DICK: There ain't no reins on this thing we got goin' here.

HENRY: See, again, I don't even know what that means. I just think we should, A, tell the world about our special friendship, and B, try to avoid you spraying birdshot into me every time we get together.

DICK: The world wouldn't accept that, Henry.

HENRY: Well let's focus on "B." I'm pretty sure they'd accept that.

DICK: Two guys... going off into a marsh... neither one of them coming back with a gunshot wound. It just wouldn't look right. People would get to talkin'. Engagin' in all sorts of rumor and innuendo.

HENRY: I don't know if I agree. I think the world is a-changin', Dick.

DICK: It hasn't changed that much. If you don't come back with a decent sized shotgun wound on you, what are people gonna think we were a-doin' out here?

HENRY: I don't know. Talking. Hunting. Guy stuff.

DICK: That's just crazy-talk, Henry. We both know what they'd say.
(pause) I'm going to get some more beans.

Dick goes back to the tent and comes back a moment later.

HENRY: You got the beans?

DICK: Yeahhhh, I done got 'em.

HENRY: Those aren't beans. That's a 28 guage shotgun.

DICK: Are you sure?

HENRY: I've come to know its silhouette pretty damn good.

DICK: I'm almost positive these are beans. Let me check the label.

The shotgun BLASTS, blowing off bits of Henry's scalp.

DICK: Something wrong with these beans. They've got a hair-trigger or something.

Henry smiles with the warmth of friendship, and also because he's delirious from a concussion and bleeding headwound.

HENRY: I've been thinkin'... maybe we should stop gettin' together for quail hunts. Maybe we should try fishin'.

DICK: Fishin'? Fishin's for homos. I ain't no homo, Henry.

HENRY: I know that. But maybe we could just try.

DICK: If it's important to you.

HENRY: I think it is. Could you put a tournequet around my neck? I think I'm about to pass out.

Dick smiles and and begins strangling Henry with a rope.


SCENE: A fishing boat on a placid lake. Henry lies upon the boat's bottom, bleeding profusely from a wound in his abdomen.

DICK: I told you fishin' wouldn't be no better.

HENRY: It would have been... it was going so well. And then you shot me again.

DICK: Had to. That trout you pulled out of the lake was fixin' to bite you somethin' ferocious. Had to take him out before he got to you.

HENRY: You missed the fish entirely.

DICK: True, but the shotgun blast kinda stunned him, right before he fell back into the water. He didn't bite you.

HENRY: He bit me. A piece of my abdominal muscle went floatin' in the lake, and I saw him eat it.

DICK: That son of a bitch...! I won't let him get away with that! (he grabs his shotgun)

HENRY: Please, put the gun down.

DICK: But the fish...! That son of a bitch ate part of my friend!

HENRY: Dick, please, don't. Put the gun down. You're not going to shoot the fish. I don't even think you're going to pretend to aim at him. You're just going to point the gun directly at me and shoot me.

Dick smiles with overpowering affection.

DICK: You know me so well.

HENRY: Why aren't you putting the gun down, Dick?

Dick pulls the trigger.


SCENE: Much later. Dick and Henry are now much older; Henry is a high-powered Texas attorney, Dick is Vice President of the United States.

Henry has once again been shot by Dick.

Dick visits him in the hospital.

DICK: I'm sorry, Henry. But do you see now? You see how people have set their tongues a-waggin'? The media won't stop slandering us. I told you folks'd never accept this special friendship of ours.

HENRY: Again, I hate to be Johnny One-Note, but I don't think it's the friendship they mind. I think it's the repeated shotgun-maimings.

Dick sadly shakes his head.

DICK: You've always been so naive, Henry. (smiling) I brought you a present.

HENRY: This present... seems to be about three and a half feet long. And 28 guage wide.

Dick unwraps the gift.

HENRY: Nurse...!

Dick moves the call-nurse button away from his friend's hand.

DICK: Can't have the nurse in here, Henry. She'd never understand this special thing we got goin'.

HENRY: I think I'm about done with this special thing.

DICK: I wish I could quit you. I mean, I wish I could quit shooting you.


Dick fires the gun.



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