ROBERT NERSESIAN   

A Hill of Beans          

OVER BLACK 

The sound of boots scraping against a hard desert floor. 

FADE IN: 

EXT. DESERT – DAY 

Gasping, chuckling, FOSTER (18) trudges through the desert. He wears jeans and a t-shirt that reads “Hot Chilly Bowl.” 

FOSTER: Man, it’s hot as a flea’s foot on the hood of a Corvette.   

Concerned, JACKSON (38) hurries after him. Jackson wears what might be described as "Oklahoma cool."

JACKSON: Hey, buddy. Hang on. Let me catch up with you. 

SFX: Two pairs of boots trudging through sand form the “music” soundtrack. 

JACKSON: Whew. These days don’t get any cooler, do they? 

FOSTER: Yeah, it’s the desert. That’s how it’s advertised. 

JACKSON: Yeah, yeah. Mind if I walk with you? 

FOSTER: Guess not. 

JACKSON: Where you headed? 

FOSTER: Home. Midland, Texas. 

JACKSON: Oh. Kind of far from there, ain’t you? 

FOSTER: No problem. I’ll get there. I like to walk. What about you? 

JACKSON: Me? 

FOSTER: Where you from? 

JACKSON: Waynoka, Oklahoma. 

FOSTER: You got a lot farther to walk than me. 

JACKSON: True. I don’t mind it. Ever been to Waynoka? 

FOSTER: No. Don’t get out much. 

JACKSON: Why’s that? 

FOSTER: My job. Work at a diner. 

JACKSON: Yeah? What do you do? 

FOSTER: Night cook. We’re a 24-hour operation in Midland. 

Foster points to his t-shirt. 

FOSTER: You get the name? Hot? Chilly? We’re pretty famous. 

JACKSON: Yeah, I get it. But what brings you out here? 

FOSTER: I just got off my shift, and the morning manager found out there's no more chuck beef for the chili. So I volunteered to go buy some before I head home. 

JACKSON: So you're walking, not driving? 

FOSTER: Yeah, I like to walk. 

JACKSON: What store you heading to? 

FOSTER: Any will do. First one I hit. 

JACKSON: Got it. You getting beans, too? 

FOSTER: Beans? 

JACKSON: Yeah, beans. Chili con carne, right? 

FOSTER: Oh, no, no, no, man. What are you talking about? 

JACKSON: Beans for the chili. 

FOSTER: No, no. Never. You never put beans in chili. You crazy? 

JACKSON: Whoa, whoa, hoss. Take it easy. 

FOSTER: Never. Ever. No beans, man. Never any beans. 

JACKSON: Okay, friend. No beans. Sin frijoles. No problem. I gotchu. 

FOSTER: You gotta understand. This is Texas chili. The real chili. Listen, Mister…

JACKSON: Jackson. 

FOSTER: Listen, Mr. Jackson, I've spent my life in a kitchen. And Texas chili is my specialty. That's why I'm the best damn chef at the Hot Chilly Bowl. 

JACKSON: Understood. Hey, I didn't catch your name. 

FOSTER: Didn't give it. 

JACKSON: Okay. 

FOSTER: Foster. 

JACKSON: Nice to meet you, Foster. And I apologize. Didn't know that thing about Texas chili. No beans. 

FOSTER: No beans, man. 

JACKSON: So tell me how you make it. 

FOSTER: Aw, man. It's an art. You gotta love making it like you love making love to a girl.

JACKSON (laughs): I’m thinking through that. 

FOSTER: Really. I mean it's really true. You gotta take care. Cut the chuck meat into just the right size chunks. You run your hands through them. Feel them. Gotta be the right size. Fry that meat in beef suet. None of that lousy canola oil. Get that meat nice and grey in the pan. Put in some water, not too much. Then the chili peppers. You know what kind?

JACKSON: There’s more than one? 

FOSTER: Oh, yeah. Hundreds of 'em. You want the anchos. They got just the right taste, not too bitter, not too sweet. Just like a pretty girl's lips. You know what I mean. 

JACKSON: Think so. 

FOSTER: Six of those. 

JACKSON: Girls? 

FOSTER (laughing): I wish, man. Oh, I wish. No, six chiles. You're making kind of a witch's brew. 

JACKSON: Okay. Got it. So what's next? 

FOSTER: So, you get it to a good boil, and then simmer it about a half hour. Then, then, crap, I’m forgetting… 

JACKSON: It'll come. We got a long way to go. 

FOSTER: No, no, no, man. I mean, I've made this a hundred...what am I saying...a thousand times. I mean, God, I can't believe this… 

JACKSON: Not to worry. 

FOSTER: Gotta get to the grocery store. In Midland. Gotta get that chuck. 

JACKSON: I told you I was from Waynoka. 

FOSTER: Yeah. 

JACKSON: My wife's from Shreveport. Louisiana. Now, don't get agitated when I tell you she makes the best red beans and rice in Oklahoma. 

FOSTER: Never made it. Our customers like chili. 

JACKSON: I understand. But, oh, the way she makes those pinto beans with the green peppers, the onions, the celery. The holy trinity of Cajun cooking. I don't know what else she puts in there. Oh wait, oh yeah, a ham bone. Ahhh. It's like eating butter on white rice after it's all been cooked 'bout three hours. Make me want to cry. 

FOSTER: Why don't you just have butter on white rice then? 

JACKSON (laughs): But you get my meaning, right? It tastes that good. 

FOSTER: I just remembered. 

JACKSON: Remembered what? That other stuff for your chili? 

FOSTER: No. The knife. 

JACKSON: What knife? 

FOSTER: I...you're not a cop, are you? 

JACKSON: Nope. 

FOSTER: Sure? 

JACKSON: Not a cop. 

FOSTER: Okay. I'm going to the store to get some chuck 'cause I pulled a knife on my boss. 

JACKSON: How's that again? 

FOSTER: He stepped out of line. Said my kitchen station was filthy. Said it would make my chili taste like, well, nobody talks about my chili that way. So, I took my kitchen knife and pointed it at him. Anyway, got to get to the store. Get some chuck. I’ll make the chili at home and bring it to the diner. That'll show him. Best chili in all of Texas. 

JACKSON: Okay. Can I ask you a question? 

FOSTER: Guess so. 

JACKSON: Did your boss call the cops? 

FOSTER: Don’t know. What's it matter? 

JACKSON: He might have. You might want to, uh, pause your return to the diner. 

FOSTER: You think they're waiting for me? 

JACKSON: Might. Have another question. 

FOSTER: Yeah? 

JACKSON: You say you work in Midland, and you're going to a grocery store there. So what are you doing out here in the desert? 

FOSTER: What am I doing? I mean…what have I been talking about all this time? I gotta get back to the diner. Back to my chili. The chili's my home. If I can't cook my chili… 

JACKSON: I understand. 

FOSTER: No, you sure damn don't. I'm in that kitchen every night. We're the only 24-hour place that has my chili. Oil-rig workers come in, they're all liquored up, screaming for my chili, my stuff, for me, Foster's Texas chili, and I'm cutting the meat and rendering the suet, trying to find the anchos, you gotta have the anchos… 

JACKSON: Hey. 

FOSTER: The anchos. And the big boys from the rigs are sitting at the counter screamin' at me in the kitchen. "Where's my order?" they're all yelling. "What the hell's going on? Where's my gol' durn chili?" Like they're going to kill me if they don't get that bowl in time and… 

JACKSON: It's okay, man. 

FOSTER: Oh. I just remembered the other ingredients. You gotta put 'em in after the meat and chilis are simmered. Oregano. Cumin seeds all crushed up. 

JACKSON: Foster. 

FOSTER: Tablespoons of salt. Cayenne. Tabasco. 

JACKSON: Private Foster! 

FOSTER: Garlic cloves! Four garlic…wait…what did you call me? 

JACKSON: Private Foster. I’m your sergeant. 

FOSTER: What? 

JACKSON: You think you’re walking to Midland. You're not. You're in Iraq. 

DISSOLVE to the same scene, but the men are in military uniforms. 

FOSTER: I'm in Iraq? 

JACKSON: You walked off the base. They sent me out to bring you back. 

FOSTER: I…I'm not going back. Can't go back. My boss. Those customers. They want to kill me for my chili. 

JACKSON: It's okay. I'm not going to let them. 

FOSTER: But I gotta get my chuck at the store. 

JACKSON: We'll get it together. You and me. I'll even foot the bill. 

FOSTER: Really? You sure? 

JACKSON: I'm sure. Then, I'm gonna get you home. 

FOSTER: Back to Midland? Back to the diner? 

JACKSON: Let’s turn around. (beat) Come on. You gotta walk with me. 

FOSTER: I just want to get back to the diner. 

JACKSON: I’ll get you there. The diner. The grocery store. Midland. They're all home. Your home. I'm going to get you home. 

Foster turns and follows Jackson. 

FADE OUT  

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