I just came across another of my ancient scripts. This one dates to the early 1980s and was one of my attempts at melodrama. The story is so silly I didn't bother editing it much. It's about 1,200 words. Enjoy.
(Note: Riverside Theatre was the name Stephen and I came up with for our imagined film company. I remember when one of Stephen's friends came by and heard me mention it. He was intrigued, and asked me what we were: a stage company? a troup? I proudly replied, "We're incorporated!" We weren't, but he believed me. What an idiot!)
RIVERSIDE THEATRE presents
The Furthering Adventures of Eric and Paulette
by
B.B.J.D.
Episode One: The Taffey Pull
Young Eric rode merrily down the trail. What a fine and bright morning this was. A perfect day for visiting Paulette. And such was his intent. Perhaps they could pull taffy together. Or something.
Paulette was Eric's girl. Well, kind of. They had made no formal declaration, but everyone assumed they were destined for marriage. Everyday Eric would ride the short distance to Paulette's ranch.
Her ranch was on the other side of the one hundred foot deep gorge. The gorge had been formed when the two were still small children. Their parents had chosen a half-way point between the two homesteads to arrange for Eric and Paulette's marriage. But a great earthquake rent the earth and plummeted them to their deaths. Paulette's Uncle Willroy and her Aunt Matilda raised her until a year ago. Now Paulette ran the ranch by herself. Eric had managed his ranch alone since his parent's deaths. That was when he was five.
Today he rode to Paulette's through the gorge. Once a week he would do this in remembrance of their parents. Alone, he had carved out a trail to the bottom on one side, and back up to the top on the other. He was just that kind of guy.
As he rode he felt a song spring up in his heart. He reached into the huge pack behind him and brought forth a beautiful guitar. Then, putting his feet up and leaning against the pack, he began singing a happy ballad about his precious Paulette.
- When she was four her parents died,
- and then for many days she cried.
- And the chasm made was deep and wide.
- And someday soon she'll be my bride. Oh, Paulette!
Meanwhile, out at Paulette's ranch, a dark and sinister visitor had come. It was the evil Bartholemew Sludge. He had come with designs of taking over Paulette's ranch. But Paulette remained firm.
"No, Mr. Sludge. I will not release my ranch to you."
"Then you are a fool!" raved Bart. (Bartholemew is such a pain to write.) "For I shall bring you to ruin and so get your ranch for a song. Then I'll be the richest man in the county!"
He broke into a fit of evil laughter. But still Paulette remained undaunted.
"There is no song that you could sing which would cause me to relinquish my ranch. This is my home. This is where I belong."
"Not for long, my little pretty," said Bart. "I always get what I want."
"But this time, Mr. Sludge, you shall get what you deserve!"
"Ha!" laughed Bart. "You make an empty threat. You are defenseless. I know, because I gave all of your hired hands money and sent them into town. We are alone now."
"Oh dear!" cried Paulette. "But I still have one more hope."
"You have no hope!"
"I have one hope!"
"No, you don't!"
"Yes, I do!"
"You lie! What is this hope of yours?"
Paulette straightened herself proudly and looked out through the window with a determined sense of peace. "My hero rides to meet me even now. He shall deliver me from your wicked hands."
"Never!" cried Bartholemew. (I guess Bartholemew does sound better - even if it is a nuisance to spell.) "I forbid it! I shall whisk you away and we shall be married. Then I will have your ranch."
"No. My beloved will shall save me."
"Ha! And who is this hero of yours? Where is he? I dare him to defy me!"
"His name is Eric Champion! And there is none like him anywhere. He's charming, witty, strong..."
At Eric's name, Bartholemew fell back as if struck.
"Curses!" he said in an aside to nobody. "Can this be the same Eric Champion who defeated me at Rustler's Creek when I tried to steal land from the Widow Miles? That meddlesome fool could ruin everything. I must change my plans. And the first thing I must do is rid myself of this star struck female."
He turned back to Paulette, who was still reciting.
"...honorable, wise, handsome..."
"Enough!" Bartholemew grabbed hold of her wrists. "That is more than any villain can bear. You're coming with me!"
"Where are we going?" Paulette asked.
"I am going to rid myself of you forever!"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to drop you into the gorge!"
"Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes!"
Bartholemew tossed the beautiful Paulette over his saddle and rode hard for the gorge. They reached its edge in minutes.
"Say goodbye to the world, my pretty," laughed Bartholemew. "With you dead, your ranch will go up for auction. And with my hired men to threaten other bidders I shall get it for a song. Farewell! It's a hundred feet to the bottom."
And with that, he flipped her off his horse and into the gorge. He watched gleefully as she fell.
Eric continued to move along at a slow pace, singing his ballad to Paulette. He was still unaware of Paulette's plight. Suddenly, his beloved Paulette landed across his lap.
"Paulette," he said. "How nice of you to drop in."
Up at the top of the gorge, Bartholemew Sludge was having a fit. (How do you do that, anyway?) He had watched Paulette's entire fall.
"Curses!" he said in an aside to the same person who wasn't there the last time. "That meddlesome fool has thwarted my plans again. Well, this is but a round. The match still goes on. I'm not defeated yet!"
And with a sinister laugh, he rode away to formulate another plan of misery for poor, beautiful Paulette.
"Oh, Eric! You are my hero!" said Paulette, leaning against Eric's chest.
"Be careful of the guitar, Paulette," Eric gently warned. "Yes, Paulette, I am your hero. However, as such, I feel that I must advise you against further demonstrations of this sort. What if you had missed? Life would not be worth living without you, Paulette. And besides, it isn't very good for old Thunder's back. He doesn't mind, of course. For Thunder is a hero's horse and will endure all tribulations for the cause of good. But this is a bit much."
"But, Eric," Paulette said in innocent tones. "This wasn't my idea, romantic though it be."
"Then who's was it? Or is it whose?"
"No matter, my heroic Eric. It was Bartholemew Sludge who threw me off the cliff."
"Bartholemew Sludge, eh?" said Eric looking up the cliff wall. "Just because I foiled his plans at Rustler's Creek, where he tried to steal land from the Widow Miles, he does this to my horse? What cruelty!"
"But no, dear Eric!" said Paulette. "He did not know you were here. He was trying to kill me so that he could take my ranch for a song."
"The fiend!" cried Eric in immense anger. "I've heard him sing. It's terrible! But I shall take you home now, Sweet Paulette. Then I shall make ready to save you from this dastardly villain. For I am afraid we haven't heard the last of him. Not only does he sing terribly, but he also sings loud."
"Very good, Dear Eric. And when we get to my place, you can rest, too. We could pull some taffy if you like. Or something."
Eric smiled brightly. "I would like that very much. Yes."
And so they rode up the cliff and into the sunrise, weary from the success of their ordeal. Yet each knew that Bartholemew Sludge was lurking about, plotting new evil. What would he do next?
DON'T MISS THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF:
Eric and Paulette
(A Riverside Theatre production. All rights reserved.)
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