A Pythonesque Restoration

Scene 1
A frontier out-post, in Missouri.

[Wind]
[Clop! Clop!]

Missourian 1: Who the hell are you?

Joseph Smith: It is I, Joseph Smith Junior, son of Joseph Smith Senior, former resident of various sections of upper New York State, Lower New York State, the greater part of Ohio, the Far Western sections of Missouri, currently residing in Illinois, receiver of the Golden Plates, Mayor of Nauvoo, General of my own personal army, Prophet of God, and Presidential Hopeful.

Missourian 2: Get out of town!

Gullible: We've heard that before.

JS: I am who I claim. And this is my trusted companion, Gullible. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land, in search of converts, who will join me in my communal paradise in Nauvoo.

Missourian 1: What, ridden on a horse?

JS: Yes!

Missourian 1: You're using coconuts!

JS: What?

Missourian 1: You've got two empty halves of coconut and you're bangin' 'em together.

JS: So? We've ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the all the states of the Union, through--

Missourian 1: Where'd you get the coconut?

JS: We found them.

Missourian 1: Found them? In Missouri? The coconut's tropical!

JS: What do you mean?

Missourian 1: Well, this is a temperate zone.

JS: The swallow may fly south with the sun, or the house martin or the plumber may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land.

Missourian 1: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?

JS: Not at all. They could be carried.

Missourian 1: What--a swallow carrying a coconut?

JS: It could grip it by the husk.

Missourian 1: It's not a question of where it grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a 1 pound coconut.

JS: Perhaps the Nephites stopped in some tropical zone, on their way across the Pacific, and exported the things. These scientific details really just don't matter. I need to speak with the local authority. Will you tell him that Joseph of Nauvoo is here?

Missourian 1: Listen, in order to maintain air speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings 43 times every second, right?

JS: Please!

Missourian 1: Am I right?

JS: I am not interested!

Missourian 2: It could be carried by an African swallow!

Missourian 1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not an American swallow, that's my point.

Missourian 2: Oh, yeah, I agree with that...

JS: Will you ask the local authority if he wants to join my army at Nauvoo?

Missourian 1: But then, of course, African swallows are not migratory.

Missourian 2: Oh, yeah.

Missourian 1: So they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway...

[Clop! Clop!]

Missourian 2: Wait a minute--supposing two swallows carried it together?

Missourian 1: No, they'd have to have it on a line.

Missourian 2: Well, simple. They'd just use a standard creeper.

Missourian 1: What, held under the dorsal guiding feathers?

Missourian 2: Well, why not?

Scene 2
A Frontier town, recently stricken with cholera.

Mortician: Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

[Gun shot]

Bring out yer dead!

Man: Here's one. Five dollars.

Dead man: I'm not dead!

Mortician: What?

Man: Nothing--here's your fiver.

Dead man: I'm not dead! I got a blessing.

Mortician: He says he's not dead.

Man: Yes, he is.

Dead man: I'm not! I've got this handkerchief, from the prophet...

Mortician: He does have the hankie.

Man: Well, he'll be dead soon. He's very ill.

Dead man: I'm getting better.

Man: No, you're not...you'll be stone dead, in a moment. You'd know that, if you weren't delirious, from dehydration and fever.

Mortician: Oh, I can't take him, like that. It's against regulations. And probably the Constitution.

Dead man: I don't want to go in the wagon!

Man: Oh, don't be such a baby.

Mortician: I can't take him...

Man: Oh, do us a favor.

Mortician: I can't.

Man: Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won't be long, hankie, or no hankie.

Mortician: Naaaw. I got to go on to Far West. Bunch a mob nonsense out that a ways. Big clean up.

Man: Well, when is your next round?

Mortician: Month from Tuesday.

Dead man: I think I'll go for a walk.

Man: You're not fooling anyone, you know. Look, isn't there something you can do?

Dead man: All is well! All is weeeeeell!

[Whomp!]

Man: Ah, thanks very much. Here's a bit, for your trouble.

Mortician: Not at all. See you month from Tuesday.

Man: Right.

[Clop! Clop!]

Mortician: Who's that then?

Man: I don't know.

Mortician: Must be a prophet.

Man: Why?

Mortician: He hasn't got shit all over him.

Scene 3
Outskirts of a Western frontier town.

JS: Old woman!

Dennis: Man!

JS: Man, sorry. What religion are the people in that town, over there?

Dennis: I'm thirty-seven.

JS: What?

Dennis: I'm thirty-seven. I'm not old.

JS: Well, I can't just call you 'man'.

Dennis: Well, you could say 'Dennis.'

JS: Well, I didn't know you were called Dennis.

Dennis: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?

JS: I did say sorry about the 'old woman' but from the behind you looked...

Dennis: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!

JS: Well, I AM prophet...

Dennis: Oh, prophet, eh, very nice. But you don't know my name's Dennis. And how'd you get prophet status, anyway? By exploiting' the workers, setting up phony banks, makin' 'em deed over their land and worldly possessions, by hangin' on to outdated theocratical dogma, which perpetuates the economic an' social differences in our societies...

JS: It's called the United Order and it's very socialistic!

Woman: Dennis! There's some lovely filth down here. Oh...how d'ya do?

JS: How do you do, good lady? Are you married, and if so, happily? Not that that matters. I am Joseph Smith Jr., founder of the latter day Church, and translator of the plates of gold. Can you tell me who lives in that city?

Woman: Founder of the what?

JS: The latter day Church--for the latter day saints.

Woman: Who are they?

JS: Well, they are all of us--all the children of God. We are all children of God, and I am your prophet.

Woman: I didn't know we had a prophet. I thought we were a democracy.

Dennis: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a republic, which is just a self-perpetuating autocracy, in which the working classes...

Woman: Oh! There you go, bringing the classes into it again.

Dennis: That's what it's all about, if only people would...

JS: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who lives in that city?

Woman: No one lives there.

JS: Then who is your local Governor?

Woman: Don't got no gov'ner.

JS: What?

Dennis: I told you: we're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as sort of executive officer for the week.

JS: There can only be one true prophet.

Dennis: But all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified, at a special bi-weekly meeting.

JS: I see. I see. Sustaining authority. Very good.

Dennis: By a simple majority, in the case of purely internal affairs...

JS: Be quiet!

Dennis:...but by a two-thirds majority, in the case of more...

JS: Be quiet! I command you to be quiet!

Woman: Command, eh? Who does he think he is?

JS: I am the prophet!

Women: Well, I didn't vote for you.

JS: You don't vote for prophets.

Woman: Well, how did you become prophet, then?

JS: The talking white salamander, [Angels sing] who transformed himself into an angel of light, clad in a white robe, with three-quarter length sleeves, open at the chest and bound with a gold sash, led me to the stone box on the hillside, wherein were laid the holy sword of Laban, the liahona, the golden plates, some really nifty glasses, and other artifacts, the exact nature of which I am not at liberty to divulge.

Gullible: Curelom bones?

JS: That is why I am your prophet!

Dennis: Listen...talking amphibious lizards, distributing sealed books, in a foreign language, is no basis for the foundation of a religion. Supreme prophetic power derives from...

JS: It's as good as a burning bush. I say it is!

Dennis: Look, you: you're only a prophet if you get a calling from God to be one.

JS: I did. He told me not to go to Church.

Dennis: Oh, nice. Well, that just settles it, don't it. God told him not to go to Church. Got loads of precedents.

JS: Be quiet!

Dennis: I mean, if I was to go around, sayin' I'd got it from God that we had all ten commandments backward, they'd lock me away!

JS: Shut up! Will you shut up!

Dennis: Ah, now we see the violence, inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed! He'll be after the presses next!

JS: You've got a printing press?! You vulgar peasant!

Dennis: Oh, what a give away. Did you hear that, did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about...did you see him repressing me, you saw it, didn't you?

Scene 4
A covered bridge, beside the Mississippi.

[Two cowboys are finishing a shoot out. The one dressed in black kills the other.]

JS: Nice shootin', brother. Haven't seen the likes of that since Porter got drunk, last weekend, and took a few of the less faithful to task. Guess they know who's right and who's wrong, now. I'm Joseph Smith Jr.. I'm just here tracting out converts. (pause) You seem to have potential. What do you know about the Mormons and would you like to know more? (pause) You make me sad. So be it. Never say Brother Joseph wasn't one to honor a man's agency. Come, Gullible.

Cowboy in black: Nobody sets a foot on this here bridge.

JS: What?

Cowboy in black: Are ya def? Bridge is off limits.

JS: We're not trying to start anything. We just have to get across, here.

Cowboy in black: Life's a bitch an' then ya die, sooner than later, if ya step on my bridge here.

JS: Look, any fool can see you've been drinking. Strong drink is not for the body, brother. I have it on good authority. We'd all get along a lot better, if you'd just...

Cowboy in black: Your mother wore spurs to bed!

JS: Where I come from, we do not talk about people's mothers. That's it. I've got to curse you, now. [draws his legionnaire sword and lops off the cowboy's gun arm] Now, get out of the way, you stinking drunk.

Cowboy in black: I'll kick your ass, with one arm behind my back, you little...

JS: Behind your back?! It's on the ground there!

Cowboy in black: Isn't neither.

JS: Well, what's that, then?

Cowboy in black: I've had worse from a woman.

JS: You liar!

[Cowboy in black goes for his gun; JS chops his other arm off]

JS: You can't shoot with your toes, get out of the way then. [Kneels] We thank thee o lord, that in thy mer...

Cowboy in black: Hah! Come on, then.

JS: What?

Cowboy in black: Draw, ya lily-livered son of a skirt wearin' immigrant Granddaddy.

JS: You're one tough hombre, but the fight is over, brother.

Cowboy in black: Oh, you've had enough, eh?

JS: Look, you stupid bastard, you've got no arms left.

Cowboy in black: Yes, I have.

JS: Look!

Cowboy in black: Just a flesh wound.

[Kicks JS]

JS: Look, stop that.

Cowboy in black: Chicken shit! Chicken shit!

JS: Look, I'll have your leg. Right!

[Chops off cowboy in black's leg]

Cowboy in black: You're a dead man, now, Smitty!

JS: I don't think so.

Cowboy in black: Come here!

JS: What are you going to do--bleed on me?

Cowboy in black: Could be lethal.

JS: You're a loony.

Cowboy in black: This is the West. I have my code to live by. A gunfighter don't quit. It ain't western. [JS chops off cowboy in black's remaining leg] All right, we'll call 'er a draw, then.

JS: Come along, Gullible.

Cowboy in black: Oh, now you show yer true colors: primary yella. Come back an' take what's comin' to ya! I'll bite yer legs off!

Scene 5
Nauvoo Illinois 1800s.

Mob: A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch!

Saint 1: We have found a witch, might we burn her?

Brigham Young: How do you know that she is a witch?

Saint 2: Well, it's Emma.

BY: Bring her forward.

Emma Smith: I'm not a witch. They're telling lies about me.

BY: I've heard some things...

Emma: Lies, I said.

BY: Then that stuff about the pushing Eliza down the stairs...

Emma: A lie, I tell you. If I had pushed her, there'd be nothing said about the matter, because I would have finished the job, and you know it. The Relief Society never leaves loose ends...

BY: Well?

Saint 1: Well...no one actually saw her do it. But I did hear she did.

Saint 2: And I heard Liza said she did.

BY: You heard Liza say she did?

Saint 2: No. I heard Liza said she did. My third cousin once removed, who isn't a member, but knows one, from Denmark, who doesn't speak English, got it from this immigrant that...

BY: But did you hear it?

Saint 2: Well, not directly no.

BY: Did anyone hear it?

Mob: Yes, yes...yes...no. No, no, not hear it, exactly. Not directly.

BY: What makes you say she's a witch, then?

Saint 3: Well, she turned me into a salamander.

BY: A salamander?!

Saint 3: Well, not a white one. And I got better.

Saint 2:Burn her anyway!

Mob: Burn! Burn her!

BY: Quiet, quiet. Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.

Mob: Are there? What are they?

BY: Tell me, what do you do with witches?

Saint 2: Burn!

Mob: Burn, burn them up!

BY: And what do you burn, apart from witches?

Saint 1: More witches!

Saint 3: The whole earth and the sky and the universe and...

Saint 2: Wood!

BY: So, why do witches burn?

Saint 3: Because they are the symbolic representation of evil... [Drifts off as the crowd looks at him as if he has lost his mind]

Saint 2: B...'cause, they're made of wood...?

BY: Good!

Mob: Oh, yeah. Yeah.

BY: So, how do we tell, whether she is made of wood?

Saint 1: Build a large bridge out of her.

BY: Ahhh. But can you not also build bridges out of stone?

Saint 2: Oh, yeah.

BY: Does wood sink in water?

Saint 1: No, no.

Saint 2: It floats! It floats!

Saint 3: Throw her in the Mississippi!

Mob: The Mississippi! The Mississippi!

BY: What also floats in water?

Saint 1: Bread!

Saint 2: Apples!

Saint 3: Very small rocks.

Saint 1: Blessing oil!

Saint 2: Handkerchiefs...until they get sodden.

Saint 3: Cherries!

Saint 1: Mud!

Saint 2: Churches--churches!

Saint 3: Lead--lead.

JS: A duck.

Mob: Ooooh!

BY: Exactly. So, logically...

Saint 1: If...she...weighs the same as a duck, she's made of wood!

BY: And therefore...?

Saint 1: A witch!

Mob: A witch!

BY: We shall use my larger scales. Right! Remove the supports.

Mob: A witch! A witch!

Emma: I never wanted to go to Utah anyway.

Mob: Burn her! Burn!

JS: Oh, well. I suppose if I HAVE to go to hell to retrieve her...

BY: Your scientific and philosophical intuitions continue to amaze me, especially since you are but an unschooled farm boy, raised in complete ignorance and barely literate enough to keep a journal. Might make a saint of lesser faith and ambition think that Harris and Cowdry had something to do with writing that book of Mormon.

JS: Come, Brigham. We must pursue the quest for the Presidency. And remember, there are cabinet posts to be appointed, should we but not fail.

BY: What happened to letting them govern themselves?

JS: Mob rule? Did you learn nothing from Missouri, Brigham.

BY: Oh. Right.

[Narrative interlude]

Narrator: The glacier Brigham was not the first to join Joseph's brave band of social reformers, but he was to prove the most enduring--outlasting all competition, continuing to advance himself to the end. And the perfection of his pseudo oak furnishings stand testimony to his skill at dressing up crap. Other illustrious names were to pale, by comparison: the arrogant Brother Sidney; the idealistic, but sadly pseudo-intellectual type brother Oliver; the dog dodging brother Parley; the bullet dodging brother John; and the blindly loyal brother, brother Hyrum, and brother Martin, not so intellectual as Oliver, but not so illiterate as Joseph, who lost the transcript of the book of Lehi, but was saved, by a merciful God, who had ordered the compilation of another version, who finally saw the angel, but who had to try several times, before he was successful, because he was a wuss, and the aptly named brother not appearing in this film. Together they formed a religion that was to grow into a mighty corporate entity, protected by an army of lawyers and CEO types, who would cast a shadow of fear over all the organized Christian religions of the earth.

Scene 6
Still at Nauvoo

BY: And that, Brother Joseph, is how we know the black man to be none other than the evil spawn of Cain, clearly marked and forever barred from the reception of the Priesthood.

JS: This new learning amazes me, Brother Brigham. Explain again how divining rods may be employed to discover buried treasure.

BY: Oh, certainly, Brother.

Porter Rockwell: Yer Worship!

JS: I really don't force him to call me that. It's just this thing he has.

Porter: The Temple's nigh finished! Look at 'er!

JS: The Temple!

BY: The Temple!

Oliver Cowdery: The Temple!

Gullible: It's only a model.

JS: Shhh! Brothers, I bid you welcome to your new eternal home. Let us ride...to the temple.

[Singing]

We're the saints of the new order
Since we crossed the Missouri border
we do routines and parlor scenes
that are simply made to order!

We dine well here in Nauvoo
we eat ham and jam and but drink wine? Noooo.

[Dancing]

We're saints of the new order
so if you want to court 'er
just jump in the line: shake your body in time
Oh, yeah. Jump in the line, and you'll get her in time.
You believe it...

[Calypso dancing]

Oh, we're inspired and fired
and we never get tired
All is well, though they give us hell
Families are forever,
so our wives don't never say never
and the aprons our kids never sever...

JS: Well, on second thought, let's not go to the Temple. It is a silly place, right?

Scene 7
Still in Nauvoo

God: Joseph! Joseph Smith Junior of Palmyra farms! Oh, don't do that lay on your back over come by the powers of darkness thing. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people falling on their backs...

JS: Sorry.

God: And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone, it's sorry this and forgive me that and I'm not worthy. [Which is only amusing, when Wayne and Garth do it.] What are you doing now?

JS: Averting my eyes, O Lord.

God: Well, don't. It's like those miserable psalms. So depressing. Now, knock it off. BTW, Your mother sends her love and says to get a real job.

JS: I have a real job. I'm the mayor, now.

God: Get out!

JS: I am, really. I'm going for President, even.

God: Look, I really need to talk to you about this polygamy thing. Remember that angel, with the drawn sword? Well, he had this bet with Lucifer, that you wouldn't do whatever I told you to do, no matter how bizarre it was, and well, I know you meant well, but the whole thing was a joke, really and...for my sake, man, what were you thinking? Don't we get clarification anymore--now that we're the big mayor--the big presidential hopeful?

JS: Well, I...it does seem to be working out, though.

Others: Yes! Yes! It's working.

Oliver: No, it isn't.

BY: Yes, it is. I said it is.

Oliver: Isn't.

BY: Is.

Oliver: Isn't.

BY: Is!

God: You've got to knock it off, now.

BY: I can't hear you. I can't hear you.

Oliver: Yes, you can.

BY: Can't! Can't!

God: Look, I'm telling you straight: forget the whole thing and get back on that Zion track. What happened to that one, huh? Tell you to build me a city of brotherly love and that you can't do, but let some wayward angel suggest that you can have multiple wives it's a done deal, before the flame goes out on the old light saber.

JS: Well, we meant well.

God: Look, it's Zion, or nothing. That was the plan.

JS: Right. As soon as I'm president, we'll vote as a block and force the entire country to convert, or perish--of their own free will, of course.

God: Forget the President thing. It isn't going to happen. Just build me Zion. Be an example. The people will come to you.

JS: But, I'm kind of attached to the President thing. Couldn't we do both?

God: Hello? Are you arguing with me? Are you arguing with me? You must be arguing with me, because I'm the only one up here. And what happened the last time you argued with me? And the time before that? And the time before that?

[Exits amid thunder]

BY: I think you should go for President--as long as we get to keep the polygamy thing.

Martin Harris: Do you think that's wise?

Sidney Rigdon: Oh, what do you know? You probably couldn't even see the Lord just now.

Martin: I did see him. And I heard him, too.

Sidney: Oh, really? What was he wearing?

Martin: Ree---No! White! With little tiny polka dots. And cashmere.

Sidney: Ha!

Martin: Well, it looked white. I don't see well in bright light you know I've got a stigmatism. And I'm nearsighted.

Sidney: Ha!

Martin: I did see him! I did!

Scene 8
An old Mill, in Missouri.

JS: Halt! Hello? Hello!

Miller: What did you wake me up for and who the hell are ya?

JS: I am General Smith of the Nauvoo legion. Whose mill is this?

Miller: Wouldn't you like to know?

JS: Yes, I certainly would.

Miller: It's none of yer damn business's mill. Ha! How'd ya like them apples?

JS: Go and tell the miller that we have been charged by God with the sacred quest of converting the world to his Gospel, through acceptance of his word, as engraved on the sacred golden plates, stolen from Jerusalem by Nephi, who murdered their rightful owner, as per the order of God, then snuck into the dead man's home...

Miller: I'm the miller.

JS: Then if you will but offer us food and shelter...

Miller: What, feed all of you? The whole lot?

JS: And in return, we will bless your mill...

Miller: Bless it? How's about you offer to pay up, first?

JS: Look, you. The last man to be rude to me in these parts lost his senate seat to some lanky lawyer, who was just about as popular as Mississippi mud on wash day. Now...

Miller: I ain't running fer no office.

JS: We are men of God...

Miller: Then make manna.

Oliver: Offer to show him the plates. That one always gets them.

Miller: I got a roomful of plates.

JS: You do?! Gold ones?

Miller: Gold, silver, lavender, puce. The old lady paints 'em up all sorts a colors.

JS: Not china plates, you plebeian. Gold plates, with hieroglyphics on them and...

Oliver: We could use some china for the Temple, Joseph. The ladies have been generous, but with all the house burning and wagon jostling...

JS: Right. Look, could we take a glance at some of that china, you're talking about?

Miller: Of course not. Yer Mormon types.

JS: Well, what are you?

Miller: I'm a Missourian! Why do you think I smell like white lightenin', you silly saint.

Oliver: What are you doing in Illinois?

Miller: Mind yer own business.

JS: If you will not show us the china, then we will take this mill by force.

Miller: You don't scare me none, Moron tea-totalers. Go swap yer wives, you sons of religious fanatics from all sects and walks of life. I blow my nose at ya, ya so-called Joseph prophet, you and all your silly immigrant saints. Thpppt!

Oliver: What a strange person.

JS: Now, look here, my good brother!

Miller: I don't want ta talk to ya no more, ya injun lovin', harem buildin' communists! Your mother was a lame horse and yer father had to bribe her with a carrot!

Oliver: Is there someone inside that we could talk to?

Miller: No, now go away, before I tongue-lash ya a second time.

JS: Now, this is your last chance. I have been more than reasonable.

Miller: Fetch the order!

JS: What order?

Miller: The extermination order. River changed course last night. This is Missouri territory now.

JS: It isn't.

Miller: Is.

JS: Look, it really doesn't matter whose territory it is, because the whole order is unconstitutional...

[Twong!]
[Mooooo!]

Good Lord!

Right! Charge!

All: Charge!

Miller: This one is for Emma!

[Twong]

All: Run away! Run away!

Miller: Thpppt!

Porter: Sidewinder! I'll open his gut, fer him.

JS: No, no, no.

BY: Brother! I have a plan.

[Later]
[Chop, chop, rumble, rumble, squeak]

JS: What happens now?

Muttering Missourians: A bunny?

wha?

Present? I know yer here.

A present?

Oh, a gift.

Well, get to it.

Yes, yes. Hurry.

wha--?

Let's go.

[Rumble, rumble, squeak]

JS: What happens now?

BY: Well, now, uh, Porter, Oliver, and I wait until nightfall, and then leap out of the rabbit, taking the Missourians by surprise, not only by surprise, but totally unarmed!

JS: Who leaps out?

BY: Uh, Porter, Oliver and I. Uh, leap out of the rabbit, uh...and uh...

JS: Oh.

BY: Oh...um, look, if we built this large wooden badger...

[Twong]

All: Run away! Run away!

[Splat]

Missourians: Oh, haw, haw, haw.

Pictures for schools, take 8.

Director: Action!

Narrator: Defeat at the Mill seems to have utterly disheartened Brother Joseph. The ferocity of the Missourian taunting took him completely by surprise, and Joseph became convinced that a new strategy was required, if the quest for converts was to be brought to a successful conclusion. Joseph, having consulted his peep stone, decided that the brethren should separate, and go forth in pairs to search for converts. Now, this is what they did...

[Tromp tromp slash]

Woman: Greg!

Scene 10

Narrator: The Tale of Brother Martin...
So each of the brethren went their separate ways, paired with lesser known, often forgotten figures, from Church history. Brother Martin, in a misguided attempt to head east, got turned around and found himself back in the Missouri territory, accompanied by his favorite tent choir, the tabernacle not yet having been constructed.

Choir: (singing) Bravely bold Brother Martin rode forth from Nauvoo.
And should he die, before his journey's through...
in some nasty way, like from Indians, or cholera, or
smallpox. Brave, brave, brother Martin!

He was not in the least bit scared to have dogs set on him, or be exterminated, or to be thrown in prison and have to rot for endless months,
while the brethren petitioned Congress, in vain for his release,
as angry mobs gathered outside the prison,
shouting about how they will tar and feather him.
He is not afraid of how they will drag him
out and beat him and mangle him and gouge out his eyes
and coat his raw flesh with hot tar and nasty pointy feathers...

Martin: That's...that's, uh, that's enough music, for now, faithful choir. Looks like there's dirty work afoot.

Dennis: Anarcho-syndicalism is a way of preserving freedom.

Woman: Oh, Dennis, forget about freedom. Now, I've dropped my mud.

All heads: Who art thou?

Choir: [singing] He is brave brother Martin, brave Brother Martin, who...

Martin: Shut up! Um, n-n-nobody really. I'm j-just um, just passing through.

All Heads: What do you want?

Choir: Onward Christian soldier, marching as to War!

Martin: Shut up! Um, oooh, n-nothing, nothing really. I, uh, j-just to um, just to p-pass through, good brother.

All heads: I'm afraid not!

Choir: To be a Christian soldier, marching as to war...

Martin: Shut up! Um, oo, n-nothing, nothing really...I, uh, j-j-ust to um, just to p-pass through.

All heads: I'm afraid not!

Martin: Ah, W-well, actually I am on a mission from God to convert the faithless--a latter-day saint, you know.

All Heads: You're a Mormon?!

Martin: I am.

Left Head: In that case, I shall have to kill you. You see, this here's the Missouri, and I'm the beast that rides on it, as it were, so nothing personal, but I do have to kill you.

Middle head: Shall I?

Right head: Oh, I don't think so.

Middle head: Well, what do I think?

Left head: Oh, what a lovely little Mormon you'd make. I think I'll kill him.

Right head: Oh, let's be nice to him.

Choir: Choose the right...

All Heads: Shut up!!!

Left head: Perhaps...

Middle head: Shut up.

Left head: Oh, get the sword of evil out. I want to cut his head off.

Right head: Oh, cut your own head off.

Middle head: Yes, do us all a favor.

Left head: What?

Right head: Yapping all the time.

Middle head: You're lucky. You're not next to him.

Left head: What do you mean?

Middle head: You snore.

Left head: I don't and anyway you've got bad breath.

Middle head: Well, it's only because you don't brush my teeth.

Right head: Oh, stop bitching and let's go get ripped.

Left head: All right, all right, we'll kill him first and then get ripped.

Middle head: Yes.

Left head: All right, but let's kill him anyway.

All heads: Right!

Left head: He buggered off.

Right head: So he has: turned tail and run, the bastard.

Choir: Brave brother Maritn ran away...

Martin: No!

Choir: Bravely, ran, away, away...

Martin: I didn't!

Choir: When danger reared its ugly head
he bravely turned his tail and fled

Martin: No!

Choir: Yes, brave brother Martin turned about

Martin: I didn't!

Choir: Of little faith, he chickened out
valiantly taking to his feet...

Martin: I never did!

Choir: He beat a brave retreat...

Martin: Oh, lie!

Choir: Bravest of the brave, brother Martin...

Martin: I never!

Scene 11

Narrator: The tale of Brother Oliver.

[Boom! Crash!]
[Angels singing]
[Knock! knock-knock!]

Oliver: Open the door! [Pound, pound, pound!] In the name of the Lord of Hosts, open the door!

All women: Hello!

Eliza: Welcome, gentle brother, welcome to the Mansion house.

Oliver: The Mansion House? I must have got turned about in the rain. I was off for Keokuk. And where's Emma, then?

Eliza Snow: Who? No, really, I can't imagine where she's gone off to now. And I can't imagine myself caring, either. It really doesn't matter, because we're all here, and we shall attend to your every need.

Oliver: I'm on a mission, you know. Only I lost my companion out there somewhere in that abominable Missouri-river mud.

Eliza: Mississippi.

Oliver: No, the beast rides on the Missouri.

Eliza: But The City Beautiful is on the Mississippi.

Oliver: Well, if Joseph does win the Presidency, he better jolly well keep his promise to damn that river.

Eliza: Oh, politics shmolitics. We haven't got the vote, so what do we care? And you! You are tired and you must rest awhile. Zina! Mary!

Zina and Mary: Yes, Sister Liza?

Eliza: Prepare a bed for our guest.

Zina and Mary: Oh thank you thank you...

Eliza: Away, hospitable sisters. The beds are warm and soft and...very, very big.

Oliver: Well, look, I...I...uh...

Eliza: We sisters of the Relief Society are charged with the charitable care of all of God's children, Oliver. Now, come to bed and let us relieve you. You're looking tense.

Oliver: I haven't got time to sleep. I have to catch a train then get on a boat and sail to England, before...

Eliza: Yes, well, you can't do all that in tornado-weather, can you, brother? I'm sure we must seem very dull to you--what with all those European maids to get off to...

Oliver: I'll have you know, I am saving myself for my eternal companion!

Eliza: Yes, well Joseph's been after us to talk to you about that singular. What exactly is your problem with plural marriage, Oliver? I mean, people are starting to say that you sympathize with that nasty river boat captain--that Clemens fellow--Sam is it--who has such a low opinion of the desirability of Mormon women. It isn't that, is it Oliver? You do find us attractive?

Oliver: What, you, or Mormon women in general?

Eliza: You're not looking well, Oliver. I think you'd better see the doctors. Patient! Sufferer!

Patient: What seems to be the trouble?

Oliver: They're doctors?

Eliza: They're very good at laying on hands.

Oliver: B-but...

Eliza: Oh, come, come...you must try to rest! Doctor Patient! Doctor Sufferer! Practice your art.

Patient: Try to relax.

Oliver: Are you sure that's necessary?

Sufferer: We must examine you.

Oliver: There's nothing wrong with that!

Patient: Please, we are doctors.

Sufferer: Midwives, technically.

Oliver: Get off the bed! None of that Fanny in the barn slight of hand for this Templer. It doesn't take a seer stone to see the holes in that story!

Patient: Back to your bed!

Oliver: I am on a mission from God!

Sufferer: Oh, how could you be so insensitive as to deny your sisters their very salvation, Oliver?

Girls: Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.

Oliver: Eliza!

R: No, I am Eliza's evil-I-mean-identical twin, R.

Oliver: Oh, well, excuse me, I...

R.: Where are you going?

Oliver: I have to find my companion.

R.: Well, take your pick.

Oliver: No, no. I want no part of that everlasting covenant nonsense-not until I see an angel with a drawn sword, at least, now...

R. An angel with a sword?

Oliver: That's what Joseph said.

R.: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Liza! She has been dressing up and playing with the lights and mirrors again.

Oliver: Then it wasn't a real angel?

R.: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Liza! Oh, she is a naughty person, and she must pay the penalty--and here in the Mansion House, we have but one punishment for dressing up like an angel, in order to fool the prophet. You must tie her down on a bed and spank her!

Girls: A spanking! A spanking!

R. You must spank her well, and after you have spanked her, you may do with her as you like. And then, spank me.

Girls: And me! And me!

R. And after the spanking, the group sex.

Girls: Group sex! Group sex!

Oliver: Well, I could stay a bit longer.

Porter: Brother Oliver!

Oliver: Oh, hello.

Porter: Quick!

Oliver: What?

Porter: Quick!

Oliver: Why?

Porter: It's per'lous, 'round these here parts.

Oliver: Emma's home?

R.: She's just jealous, because she can't...

Porter: Silence, ya gentile slut-type!

Oliver: Now, look, it's not important.

Porter: Quick, come on, or they'll have ya sealed, and then yer done fer.

Oliver: Look, I'm fine.

Porter: Come on.

Oliver: Now, look, I can tackle this lot single-handed.

Girls: Yes! Let him tackle us, single-handed.

Porter: Nope, brother Oliver. Come on!

Oliver: No, really, honestly, I can go back and handle this lot easily.

R.: Oh, yes. He can handle us easily.

Girls: Yes! Yes!

Oliver: Wait! I can defeat them! There's only a hundred and fifty of them!

R.: Yes, yes, he'll beat us easily, we haven't a chance.

Girls: Yes, yes!

R.: Oh, shit.

[Outside]

Porter: We was in the nick a time. You was in deep shat.

Oliver: I don't think I was.

Porter: Yeah, ya was. Ya was in terrible peril.

Oliver: Look, let me go back in there and face the peril.

Porter: Nope. It's too per'lous.

Oliver: Look, let me face as much peril as I can.

Porter: No, we've got to spread the Gospel. Come on!

Oliver: Well, let me have just a little bit of peril?

Porter: It's unhealthy.

Oliver: Bet you're gay.

Porter: What the hell are you talkin' about? I don't even smile.

[Narrative interlude.]

Narrator: Brother Porter had saved Brother Oliver from almost certain temptation, but they were still no nearer to converting the world. Brother Joseph and Brother Brigham, not more than a swallow's flight away, had discovered something. Oh, that's an unladen swallow's flight, obviously. I mean, they were more than two laden swallow's flights away--four, really, if they hadn't a cord of line between them. I mean, if the birds were walking and dragging--

Crowd: Get on with it!

Narrator: Oh, anyway, on to scene twelve, which is a smashing scene, with some lovely acting, in which Joseph discovers a vital clue, in which there aren't any swallows, although I think you can hear a starling--ooophhh.

Scene 12

Old man: Ah, hee he he ha!

JS: And this third Nephite, of whom you speak, he has seen the cave with the secular plates?

Old man: Ha ha he he he he he!

JS: Where does he live? Old man, where does he live?

Old man: He knows of a cave, a cave that no man has entered.

JS: The one where Moroni hid all the secular--but still made of semi-precious metals--plates, which might be melted down and sold to cover court costs and uninsured savings and loan failures, without incurring the wrath of a just and jealous God?

Old man: Very much danger, for beyond the cave lies the Gorge of Eternal Peril, which no man has ever crossed.

JS: But the Plates! Where are the plates?

Old man: Seek ye the bridge of death!

JS: The bridge of Death, which leads to the plates?

Old man: Hee hee ha ha!

Scene 13

Angels: Kolob!

Kolob!

Kolob!

JS: Who are you?

Head angel: We are the angels, who say...Kolob!

JS: No! Not the angels, who say Kolob!

Head angel: The same.

BY: Who are they?

Head angel: We are the keepers of the sacred words: Kolob, Elohim and Adam on di ahmaaaan!

Gullible: Ahmaaan!

JS: Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!

Head angel: The angels who say Kolob demand a sacrifice!

JS: Angels of Kolob, we are but simple travelers, who seek the Nephite, who lives beyond these woods.

Head angel: Kolob! Kolob! Kolob! Kolob!

JS and party: Oh! Ow!

Head angel: We shall say 'Kolob' again to you if you do not appease us.

JS: Well, what is it you want?

Head angel: We want...a shrubbery!

[Dramatic chord]

JS: A what?

Head angel: Kolob! Kolob!

JS and party: Oh! Ow!

JS: Please, please! No more! We shall find a shrubbery.

Head angel: You must return here with a shrubbery, or else you will never pass through this wood alive!

JS: O angels of Kolob, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery.

Head angel: One that looks nice.

JS: Of course.

Head angel: And not too expensive.

JS: Yes.

Head angel: Now...go!

Scene 14

Narrator: The tale of Brother Porter

Pa: One day, boy, all this'll be yers!

Elbert: What, the curtains?

Pa: No, not the curtains, boy. All that you can see. Stretched out over the hills and valleys of this land! This'll be your hacienda, boy!

Elbert: But ma...

Pa: Pa! I'm Pa.

Elbert: But Pa, I don't want any of that.

Pa: Listen, boy. I've built this rambling hacienda up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was swamp--worse 'en Commerce it was. No City Beautiful, let me tell you. All the other land-owners said I was daft to build a hacienda in a swamp, but I built it just the same, just to show 'em. It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So, I built a third one. That one burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp. But the forth one stayed up. An' that's what you're gonna get--the biggest ranch house on the plains.

Elbert: But I don't want any of that. I'd rather...

Pa: Rather what?

Elbert: I'd rather...just... [music] ...sing!

Pa: Stop that! Stop that! Yer not going to do a song, while I'm here. What'd you think this is the bleeding City of Joseph? Now, listen boy, in twenty minutes, you're getting married to a girl, whose father owns the biggest grant of open land in the territory.

Elbert: But I don't want land.

Pa: Listen, Rock...

Elbert: Elbert.

Pa: Look, your mail-order-bride mother may have called you Elbert, but since she high-tailed it back to the east coast, yer Rock now. Ya got that, boy? Now, listen. We live in a god-fersaken swamp. Unless yer suggestin' we teach them cows ta swim, we need all the range-land we can get.

Elbert: But I don't like her, pa. And I don't eat red meat. I'm a vegetarian.

Pa: Don't like her! What's wrong with her? She's beautiful; she's rich; and she's got huge...tracts of land.

Elbert: I know, but I want the girl I marry to have a certain, special... [music]...something...

Pa: Cut that out, cut that out. Look, yer marryin' the land baron's daughter, so ya just better cozy up to the idea, see? [smack] Boys! Make sure my blood doesn't leave this room, until I come ta get 'im.

Hired gun #1: Not to leave the room, even if ya come ta get 'im.

HG#2: Hic!

Pa: No, no. Until I come and get 'im.

HG#1: Until ya come ta get him, we's not ta enter the room.

Pa: No, no, no. You stay in the room and make sure he doesn't leave.

HG#1: An' yer gonna come an' get 'im.

HG#2: Hic!

Pa: Right.

HG#1: We don't need ta do nothing, sides just stop 'im, from enterin' the room.

Pa: No, no, leaving the room.

HG#1: Leaving the room, yeah. Got ya.

Pa: All right?

HG#2: Hic!

HG#1: Right. Oh, if-if-if, uh, if-if-if, uh, if-if-if, we...

Pa: Yeah, what is it?

HG#1: Oh, if-if, oh...

Pa: Look, it's pretty simple.

HG#1: Uh...

Pa: You just stay here an' make sure he don't leave the room, okay?

HG#2: Hic!

Pa: Okay.

HG#1: Oh, I remember. Uh, can he leave the room with us?

Pa: N-no no no. You just keep 'im in here, and make sure...

HG#1: Oh, yeah, we'll keep 'im in here, obviously. But if he had ta leave and we was...

Pa: No, no, just keep 'im in here.

HG#1: Until you, er anyone else...

Pa: No, not anyone else. Just me.

HG#1: Just you.

HG#2: Hic!

Pa: Get back.

HG#1: Get back.

Pa: Right?

HG#1: Right. We'll stay here, until ya get back.

Pa: And, uh, make sure he don't leave.

HG#1: What?

Pa: Make sure he don't leave.

HG#1: Yer boy?

Pa: Yeah. Make sure he don't leave.

HG#1: Oh, yeah, well of course. I thought ya meant him. Y'know it seemed a bit loco, me havin' ta guard 'im, when he's a guard.

Pa: Is that clear?

HG#2: Hic!

HG#1: Oh, yeah. Right as rain. Got it.

Pa: Right. [starts to leave] Where'er ya goin'?

HG#1: We're coming with you.

Pa: No, no, I want ya ta stay here and make sure he don't leave!

HG#1: Oh. Got ya.

Elbert: But Pa!

Pa: Shut yer trap, ya! An' get that suit on! An' no singin'!

HG#2: Hic!

Pa: Oh, go get a glass of water.

Scene 15

Porter: Nice shot, Concorde!

Concorde: Thank you sir. Most kind.

Porter: An' agin! Over we go. Good. Steady. An' now, the big un...ooof! Come on, Concorde.

[Thwonk]

Concorde: Message for you, brother.

Porter: Concorde! Concorde! Speak ta me. "To whomever finds this note, I have been imprisoned by my father, who wishes me to marry, against my will. Please, please, please come and rescue me. I am in the west wing of Swamp Hacienda, in the room with the awful oriental motif." Code of the West demands we respond. Brave, brave brother Concorde. You shan't o' died in vain!

Concorde: Uh, I'm not quite dead, brother Rockwell.

Porter: Well, ya won't have been mortally wounded, in vain.

Concorde: Uh, I think, uh, I could pull through, sir.

Porter: Oh. I see.

Concorde: Actually, I think I'm all right to come with ya...

Porter: No, no. Stay where ya lie. I'll send some help along, as soon as I've been able ta spit some lead an' bust some heads, in my own particular...[sigh]

Concorde: Idiom, brother?

Porter: Idiom!

Concorde: No, I feel fine, actually, brother.

Porter: Good-bye, gentile Concorde.

Concorde: I'll, uh, I'll just stay here then, shall I? Yeah.

Scene 16

HG#1: Hey, you ain't allowed to come in here, and we're--ugh!

Porter: Okay, lady. Brother Porter, scourge of the West, with guns a blazin', has come ta set ya free from...Oh, sorry.

Elbert: You got my note!

Porter: Uh, well, I got A note.

Elbert: You've come to rescue me!

Porter: Uh, well, ya see...

Elbert: I knew that someone would. I knew that somewhere out there...there must be...[music]

Pa: Stop that! Stop that! Stop it! Who are you?

Elbert: I'm your son!

Pa: No, not you.

Porter: I'm Porter Rockwell, sir.

Elbert: He's come to rescue me, pa.

Porter: Well, let's not jump ta conclusions.

Pa: Did ya kill my gunman?

Porter: Uh...oh, yes. Sorry.

Pa: They cost fifty dollars each.

Porter: Well, I'm powerful sorry. I'm really I can explain everything.

Elbert: Don't be afraid, Mr. Porter! I've got a rope all ready.

Pa: Ya killed eight weddin' guests, in all.

Porter: Well, ya see, the thing is, I thought yer son was a lady.

Pa: I kin understand that.

Elbert: Hurry, Mr. Porter! Hurry!

Pa: Ya done kilt the bride's father.

Porter: Well, I really didn't mean to...

Pa: Didn't mean to?! Ya put a bullet through his head.

Porter: Oh, dear. Is he all right?

Pa: Ya even kicked the bride in the chest. This is gonna cost me a fortune.

Porter: Well, I kin explain. I was in the forest, ridin' north, from Nauvoo, when I got this note, ya see...

Pa: Nauvoo? Yer from Nauvoo?

Porter: Personal bodyguard of the Prophet of God.

Pa: Pretty nice city, Nauvoo. Pretty good cattle country.

Porter: Yes.

Elbert: Hurry, I'm ready!

Pa: Would ya like ta come an' have a drink?

Porter: But no wine. I'm sworn off the grape. Don't cut my hair, neither. It's a Samson thing.

Pa: Beer Okay?

Porter: Well, beer, sure, that's a barley drink, ain't it? Nobody said I couldn't get stinkin' drunk, just that I couldn't have no fruit o' th' ol' vine, never.

Pa: Great! We got about ten kegs, downstairs. Come on.

Porter: Well, that's right nice of ya.

Elbert: I'm ready!

Porter: Yer real understandin' like.

[twonk! cuts Elberts rope]

Elbert: Ohhhh!

Porter: Un, I think when I'm in this idiom, I sometimes get a bit, uh, sort of carried away.

Pa: Oh, don't worry about that.

Elbert: Ohhhh! [splat]

Scene 17

[wailing]

Pa: Well, this is the main mess hall. We're gonna have all this knocked through, though, and made into one big, uh, livin' room.

Random: There he is!

Pa: Oh, bloody hell.

Porter: Ha-ha!

Pa: Hold it, hold it. Please!

Porter: Sorry, sorry. See what I mean, I just get carried away. I really must...sorry, sorry, everyone.

Random: He's killed the best man!

Pa: Hold it, please! Hold it! This is Mr. Porter Rockwell, of Dodge City fame, a very brave and influential Mormon, and my special guest here today.

Porter: Hello.

Random: He killed my auntie!

Pa: Please, please! This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let's not bicker and argue, about who killed who. We are here today to witness the union of two young people, in the joyful bond of holy wedlock. Unfortunately, one of them, my son Rock, has just fallen to his death, but I think I've not lost a son, so much as gained a daughter. For, since the tragic death of her Pa...

Random: He's not quite dead.

Pa: For, since the fatal wounding of her Pa...

Random: He's getting better!

Pa: For, since her own Pa...who, when he seemed about to recover, suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon him...[Bang! Ughhh!]

Random: Oh. He's dead.

Pa: And I want his only daughter ta look on me as her own Pa...in a very real and legally binding sense. [clapping] And I feel sure that the merger--uh, the sealin', between my new daughter an' the brave, but dangerous, brother Porter of Nauvoo...

Porter: What?

Random: Look! Yer dead son.

Concorde: He's not quite dead.

Elbert: Oh! I feel much better.

Pa: Ya fell out of a fourth story window, ya creep.

Elbert: No, I was saved, at the last minute.

Pa: How?!!

Elbert: Well, I'll tell you... [music]

Pa: Not like that! Not like that! No, stop it!

Singers: He's going to tell. He's going to tell.

Pa: Shut up!

Singers: He's going to tell! He's going to tell!
He's going to tell! He's going to tell!
He's going to tell! He's going to tell!
He's going to tell! He's going to tell!

Concorde: Hurry, brother! This way!

Porter: No, it's not in my idiom! I must escape more...(sigh)

Concorde: Dramatically, Brother Porter?

Porter: Dramatically! Ha! Hee! [crash]

Excuse me, could, uh, could somebody give me a push, please...?

Scene 18

[Clop! Clop]

JS: Old crone! Is there anywhere in this crude and unrefined river town, where we could buy a shrubbery! [dramatic chord]

Crone: Who sent you?

JS: The Angels, who say Kolob.

Crone: Agh! No! Never! We have no shrubberies here.

JS: If you do not tell us where we can buy a shrubbery, my friend and I will say...we will say...'Kolob!'

Crone: Agh! Do your worst!

JS: Very well! If you will not assist us voluntarily....Kolob!

Crone: No! Never! No shrubberies!

JS: Kolob!

BY: Klob! Klob!

JS: No, no, no, no--it's not that it's 'Kolob.'

BY: Koob!

JS: No, no--'Kolob'. You're not doing it properly.

BY: Klob! Kolob!

JS: That's it, that's it, you're got it.

JS&BY: Kolob! Kolob!

Roger: Are you saying Kolob to that old woman?

JS: Ummm...yes.

Roger: Oh, what sad times are these, when passing ruffians can kolob at will to old ladies. There is a pestilence upon this land; nothing is sacred. Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress, at this period in history.

JS: Did you say shrubberies?

Rogers: Yes, shrubberies are my trade--I am a shrubber. My name is Roger the shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shubberies.

BY: Kolob!

JS: No! No, no, no! No!

Scene 19

JS: O angels of Kolob, we have brought you your shrubbery. May we go now?

Head Angel: It is a good shrubbery. I like the laurels particularly. But there is a small problem.

JS: What is that?

Head Angel: We are now...no longer the angels who say Kolob.

Random: Kolob!

Head Angel: Shhh! Shhh! We are now the angels who say: Adam-on-di-ahmaaaaan!

Random: Kolob!

Head Angel: Therefore, we must give you a test.

JS: What is the test, O angels of---who until recently said Kolob?

Head Angel: Firstly, you must find....another shrubbery!

[Dramatic chord]

JS: Not another shrubbery!

Head Angel: Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly higher, so you get a two level effect, with a little path running down the middle.

Random: A path! A path! Kolob!

Head Angel: Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must cut down the mightiest tree, in the forest, with...a herring!

[Dramatic chord]

JS: We shall do no such thing.

Head Angel: Oh, please!

JS: Cut down a tree, with a herring? It can't be done.

Angels: Aaaaugh! Aaaaaugh!

Head Angel: Don't say that word.

JS: What word?

Head Angel: I cannot tell, suffice it to say it is one of the words the angels of Kolob cannot hear.

JS: How can we not say the word, if you don't tell us what it is?

Angels: Aaaaugh! Aaaaugh!

JS: What-- 'is'?

Head Angel: No, not is. We couldn't get very far in life not saying 'is'.

BY: Brother Joseph it's Martin!

Choir: Packing it in and packing it up
and sneaking away and yellowing out
and chickening out and pissing about
yes bravely he is throwing in the towel...

JS: Oh, Martin!

Martin: My brother! It's good to see you!

Angels: Aaaaugh!

Head Angel: He said the word!

JS: Surely you've not given up your mission to convert the nation?

Choir: He is sneaking away and chickening out

Martin: Shut up! No, no, no--far from it.

Head Angel: He said the word again!

Martin: I was looking for the lost manuscript...I thought I remembered where I might have lost it.

Angels: Aaaaaugh!

Martin: I was looking, here, in this forest...

JS: No, no. It is far from here.

Angels: Aaaaugh!

Head Angel: Oh! He said it again.

JS: Gullible!

Head Angel: Aaugh! I said it! I said it! Oooooh! I said it again!

Angels: Aaaaaugh!

[Narrative Interlude]

Narrator: And so Joseph and Brigham and Martin set out on their search to find the Nephite of whom the old man had spoken in scene twelve. Beyond the forest, they met Porter and Oliver, and there was much rejoicing.

All: Yeah. Yeah.

Narrator: In the frozen land of Nebraska they were forced to eat Martin's choir. And there was much rejoicing.

All: Yeah. Yeah.

Narrator: A year passed. Winter changed into Spring. Spring changed into summer. Summer changed back into Winter. And Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight into Autumn. Until one day...

Scene 20

JS: Brothers! Forward! [boom boom boom BOOM boom boom boom boom] What manner of man are you that can summon up fire without flint or tinder?

Tim: I...am the fourth Nephite.

JS: There were three.

Tim: Four.

JS: Look, I translated the thing, so I ought to know. There were three.

Tim: Aw, but you lost part didn't you? Could have been fifteen, for all you know, since you let brother Martin...

Martin: I never!

JS: Okay, all right, well let's not try to mop that milk up, again. You say you're a Nephite. We've no reason to doubt you. What is your name O seed of Israel's chosen race?

Tim: There are some who call me...Tim. My real name is Onandagus, but that's a bitch to pronounce.

JS: Greetings Tim the Nephite.

Tim: Greetings Joseph the Prophet.

JS: You know my name?

Tim: It's on your title page. [Zooosh!] You seek the secular, but still made of precious metals, able to be melted down, without incurring the wrath of a just and jealous god plates.

JS: That is our plan. You know much that is hidden, O Tim.

Tim: Quite.

[Pweeng boom!]
[Clap! Clap! Clap!]

JS: Yes, we're looking for the plates. Our mission is to find the plates.

Brothers: It is. Yes. Yup. Yes. Yeah.

JS: And so we're, we're, we're, we're looking for them.

Brothers: Yes, we are. We are.

BY: We have been, for some time.

Martin: Ages.

JS: Uh, so, uh, anything that you can do to, uh, to help, would be...very...helpful...

Martin: Look, can you tell us wh...

[boom!]

JS: Fine, um, I don't want to waste anymore of your time, but, uh, I don't suppose you could, uh, tell us where we might find a, um, find a, uh, a, um a uh...

Tim: A what?!

JS: A pla...a p...

Tim: A plate?!

JS: Yes, I think so.

Brothers: Yes, that's it. Yes.

Tim: Yes!

Brothers: Oh, thank you! Splendid, fine.

[Boom! Pweeng! Boom-boom.]

JS: Look, you're a busy man, uh...

Tim: Yes, I can help you find the plates.

Brothers: Oh, thank-you.

Tim: To the north there lies a cave--the cave of Cumorah, wherein, carved in ancient hieroglyphs, upon the very living rock, the last words of Moroni son of Mormon [boom] proclaim the last resting place of the most precious plates.

JS: Where could we find this cave, O Tim?

Tim: Follow! But! Follow only if ye be men of valor, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel, that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of four fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave brothers, if you do doubt your testimony or your worthiness, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty big pointy teeth.

JS: What an eccentric performance.

Scene 21

[Clop! Clop! Whinny!]

Gullible: They're nervous, Brother.

JS: Then we'd best leave them here and carry on on foot. Dis-mount!

Tim: Behold the cave Cumorah!

JS: Right! Keep me covered!

Martin: With what?

JS: Just keep me covered.

Tim: Too late!

JS: What?

Tim: There he is!

JS: Where?

Tim: There!

JS: What, behind the salamander?

Tim: It is the salamander!

JS: You silly twit! You got us all worked up!

Tim: Well, that's no ordinary salamander. That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered amphibian you ever set eyes on.

Martin: You tit! I soiled my trousers, I was so scared.

Tim: Look, that salamander's got a vicious streak a mile wide. It's a killer.

Porter: Get stuffed, ya sissy girl.

Tim: It'll teach you a trick, pilgrim.

Porter: Oh, yeah?

Martin: You yellow-bellied sap-sucker!

Tim: I'm warning you!

Martin: What's he do, slime you?

Tim: He's got huge sharp--he can leap about--look at the bones! He'd terrify Jim Bowie, I tell ya.

JS: Go on, Elijah. Chop his head off.

Elijah: Right, silly little brer. One coney stew, a comin'.

Tim: Look!

[Squeek]

Elijah Abel: Aaaaugh!

JS: Jesus Christ!

Tim: I warned you.

Martin: I peed again.

Tim: I warned you. But did you listen to me? Oh, no. You knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little aquatic lizard, isn't it? Well, it's always the same. I always...

JS: Oh, shut up!

Tim: But do they listen to me?

JS: Right!

Tim: Oh, no.

Brethren: Charge!

squeak squeak

Brethren: Aaaaugh! Aaaaugh! Run away! Run away!

Tim: Haw, haw, haw!! Haw, haw, haw! Haw-haw!

JS: Right. How many did we lose?

Brethren: John Whitmer. And William. And...

JS: And Elijah. That's five.

Oliver: Three, sir.

JS: Three. Three. And we better not risk another frontal assault, that salamander's dynamite.

Martin: Would it help to confuse it, if we ran away more?

JS: Oh, shut up and go and change your trousers.

Oliver: Let us taunt it! It may become so cross that it will make a mistake.

JS: Like what?

Oliver: Well...

JS: Have we got bows?

Brethren: What, Lamanite weapons?!!

Porter: We got the holy handgrenade.

JS: Yes, of course! The Holy Hand Grenade! It's one of the holy relics that brother Orson carries with him--found with the latest bundle of ancient papyri. Brother Orson! Bring forth the holy hand grenade!

[Singing]

JS: How does it, uh...how does it work?

Orson: You're the prophet.

Hands over the scroll.

JS: I'm not sure. This could be a fragment. Seems to be the book of the baptism for the dead...

Oliver: Oh, for...it's a picture. There's no mystery! Look, right there! He pulls out the little pin thingy and holds up three fingers, then throws it. You pull the pin and count to three.

JS: What, without some formal ceremony?

Oliver: Oh, all right then: how about you hold aloft the hand grenade, and cry, in a loud and commanding voice: Oh, Lord, bless this thy hand grenade that with it we mayest blow thy enemies, who are conveniently also always our enemies, to itsy bitsy bits, in thy mercy, that they may be aware that thou art on our side and that they had better get used to voting republican.

JS: Very good, Oliver. Shall I hold it with the right hand, or with the left?

Oliver: Just follow the picture.

JS: Right: right.

Orson: Oh, oh! And I just got this little swirly part, right here.

Oliver: Brown noser.

Orson: Oliver's right. You count to three, but be careful. This part reads: First thou shalt take out the holy pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou the holy hand grenade towards thy foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it. Amen.

All: Amen.

JS: Right. One...two...five!

Oliver: Three!

JS: Three!

[boom]

Scene 22

Sidney: There! Look!

Porter: What does it say?

JS: Brother Orson! You're the scholar.

Orson: It's Nephite.

Oliver: Nephite? Can you read translated English? There was no 'Nephite'. It was a mixture of Hebrew and Egyptian...

Orson: You read it, then.

Oliver: It reads, very clearly: Here may be found the last words of Moroni, son of Mormon. He who is valiant and pure of heart may find the secular plates in the hill of uugggggh!

JS: What?

Oliver: The hill of Uuggggh!

BY: What is that?

Martin: Sounds like some Lamanite word.

Orson: He must have died, while carving it.

Porter: Oh, come on!

Orson: Well, that's what it says.

JS: Look, if he was dying, he wouldn't bother to carve 'uuggggh.' He'd just say it.

Orson: Well, that's what's carved in the rock.

Oliver: Perhaps he was dictating.

JS: Oh, shut up. Well, does it say anything else?

Orson: No, just Uuggggh.

Porter: Arrrgh!

BY: You don't suppose he meant camoruugggh?

Brethren: Where's that?

BY: New York, I think.

Porter: Don't them Comanche have a great spirit named aaarrrga?

JS: No, that's agrrrra.

Porter: Oh, yeah. Agrrra.

BY: Ooooh! Ooooh!

Porter: No, no. Agrrra, at the back of the throat. Agrrra.

BY: No, no, no! Ooooh! In surprise in alarm.

Porter: Ya mean sort of a agrrrra!

Ooooh! Oooh!

Oh, no!

[Roar!]

Orson: It's the legendary black beast of revelation!

JS: Run away! Run away!

BY: Isn't the whore of Babylon supposed to be riding on his back?

[Roar.]

Narrator: As the horrendous black beast lurched forward, escape for Joseph and his brothers seemed hopeless, when suddenly, the animator suffered a fatal heart attack. The cartoon peril was no more. The quest for the cave of the plates continued.

Scene 23

JS: There it is. The bridge of death.

Martin: Oh great.

Brethren: Look!

JS: There's the old man, from scene twelve!

BY: What is he doing here?

JS: He is the keeper of the veil of death. He asks each traveler five questions...

Oliver: Three questions.

JS: Three questions. He who answers the five questions...

Oliver: Three questions.

JS: Three questions... may pass through in safety.

Martin: What if you get a question wrong?

JS: Then you cast into outer darkness.

Martin: Oh. I won't go.

All: Who's going to answer the questions?

JS: Brother Martin?

Martin: Yes?

JS: Brave brother Martin, you go.

Martin: Hey! I've got a great idea. Why doesn't Porter go?

Porter: Yeah, give me leave, an' I'll take 'im, with one arm tied behind my back. I'll blow 'is...

JS: No, no. Hang on, hang on. Just answer the five questions.

Oliver: Three questions.

JS: Three questions, as best you can. And we shall watch...and pray.

Porter: Gottcha, JS.

JS: Good luck, six gun Samson. God be with you.

Keeper: Stop! Who would pass the veil of death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.

Porter: Ask me yer questions, veil keeper. I ain't a-feared.

Keeper: What is your name?

Porter: Name's Porter. Porter Rockwell.

Keeper: What is your mission?

Porter: To convert the gentiles and injuns to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

BY: But none of them other people of color.

Oliver: Elijah was black, you bigot.

JS: What?!!!

Oliver: Oh, come on. You knew. Why'd you think he was always humming, 'Swing low sweet Chariot'...?

JS: I thought it was to irritate Liza.

Keeper: What is your favorite color?

Porter: Blue.

Keeper: Right. Off you go, then.

Porter: Oh. Thank ya. Thank ya very much.

Martin: That was easy!

Keeper: Stop! Who approaches the veil of death must answer me these questions three ere the other side he see.

Martin: Ask me the questions, veil keeper. I'm not afraid.

Keeper: What is your name?

Martin: Martin Harris.

Keeper: What is your mission?

Martin: To convert the world.

Keeper: Who will be the future leader of the Palestinian refugees, whose land will be indefinitely occupied by the as yet to be formed nation of Israel?

Martin: How would I know that?!! Arrrrgh!

Keeper: Stop! What is your name?

Oliver: Oliver Cowdrey.

Keeper: What is your mission?

Oliver: To convert the world.

Keeper: What is your favorite color?

Oliver: Blue--no, yel...aaaaaargh!

Keeper: Heh, heh! Stop! What is your name?

JS: Joseph Smith Jr. Prophet of God.

Keeper: What is your mission?

JS: To convert the whole earth.

Keeper: What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

JS: What do you mean? An African, or a European swallow?

Keeper: What? I don't know that! Arrrgh!

BY: How do you know so much about swallows?

JS: Well, you have to know these things, when you're a prophet, you know.

Scene 24

JS: Porter! Porter!

BY: Porter! Porter!

JS: Porter! Porter!

BY: Porter! Porter!

[angels singing]

JS: The hill of Cumoraaah! Our quest is at an end. God be praised. Almighty God, we thank thee that thou hast...

[Twong! Baa!]

Missourian: Hello, anal Mormon crusader types and Joseph prophet candidate, who is afraid of a duck, we hear! So, we Missourians out-wit ya, a second time.

JS: How dare you profane this place, with your presence! I command you, in the name of the missionaries of Nauvoo, to get out of the front of this cave, to which God himself has guided us...

Missourian: How do you fancy-pants eastern softies put it: I unclog my nose, in yer general direction, sons of a window dresser! So, ya thought ya could out-smart us Missouri folk, with yer silly knees bent running about advancing behavior! I wave my private parts at yer aunties, you heaving lot of second hand electric donkey bottom biters.

JS: In the name of the Lord, we demand entrance to this sacred cave!

Missourian: No chance, ya Mormon bedwetting types. I burst my pimples at ya and call yer daughter an un-requested, even as a thirty-second wife silly thing. You tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms.

JS: If you do not move away from the entrance, we shall be forced to curse you, unto the fifth generation.

[Splat!]

In the name of god and the glory of our...

[Splat!]

Right! That settles it!

Missourian: Yeah, this time. Ya come back here any more an' we set the cannons on ya then make castanets out of yer testicles already! Ha! Ha!

JS: Walk away. Just ignore them.

Missourian: An' we ain't repealin' that extermination order--not if the country lasts ta two hundred. An' if ya think ya got a nasty tauntin' this time, you ain't heard nothin' yet, ya tea-totalin' Mormon conservative block votin' types. Thpppt! An' there's tabbacy in that!

JS: We shall attack at once!

BY: I'm with ya, brother.

JS: Stand by for attack!

[Ending nonsense.]