The Ballad of Ethan Burns

By James D. Balestrieri

A Movie Length Tale™ from Aisle Seat Books™.

The stymied son of a Western movie icon risks Hollywood's ridicule when he assembles an unlikely crew to produce and star in an epic horse opera of his own. As he trips over his father's long shadow, a beautiful director who ties his tongue, two feuding Native American tribes--and nine very angry mailmen--Ethan Burns finally learns that he might not be his own worst enemy. Now, with everything on the line, he must find out who is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aisle Seat Books
• Release date: Apr 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781935655725

Book preview

The%20Ballad%20of%20Ethan%20Burns%20Fullsize.psdT2FStoplightPresentsFlattenedGrayscaleDrop3.5wide.psdTheBalladOfEthanBurnsDropout.psd

A Movie Length

Contemporary Western Tale

For Readers

13 and up.

Written by

James Balestrieri.

Reel%20drop%20out%2002-half-inch.psdASB%20logo%20showtime%20dropout%20-2%20inch.tif

Lyme, New Hampshire

Reel%20drop%20out%2002-half-inch.psd

Copyright © 2013 James Balestrieri

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1-935655-72-5

ISBN-10: 1-935655-72-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013935350

Published by Aisle Seat Books, an imprint of

GrayBooks LLC

1 Main Street

Lyme, New Hampshire 03768

www.Tales2Film.com

www.AisleSeatBooks.com

Electronic Edition

About Tales2Film™ and Aisle Seat Books™

Read a good movie lately?

Every good movie starts with a script, and every good script tells a riveting story. Long before the actors are chosen and the filming starts, a writer sits down, crafts that story, and submits it for consideration by the producers, directors, and other creative talents in the film industry. It can take a long time. A script may spend years making the rounds before getting the elusive Hollywood green light. If it ever does. Some of the greatest movies ever written are ones that none of us will ever see on the screen.

Tales2Film finds the best of those not-yet-produced tales and brings them to you as Movie Length Tales™ just as the writer envisaged them. Each of the tales in this series has been converted by the script’s writer from the technical shorthand of screenplay format into the familiar prose format you see here, a process called novelization.

These little books are not novels, or even novellas. Think of them as written movies. Like the screenplays they come from, each is presented in real time, written in the present tense to allow you to see the movie’s scenes in your mind’s eye as if they were unfolding on a theater’s screen before you.

So. Here’s a movie. Take your favorite aisle seat and enjoy it.

And when it’s over, take a look at out Featured Previews in the back of this book. Your next Movie Length Tale™ is already here...

Now Showing:

TheBalladOfEthanBurnsDropout.psd

Contemporary Western

Ages 13 and up

Theater lights dim.

Fade in:

One sunshaft through unlit neon and the slats of an inner set of saloon doors is the only indication it’s mid-afternoon at Hegarty’s, a dump of a bar in L.A.

Nine mailmen line the barstools.

A planetoid barkeep serves them as they swill beers, wolf down greasy tacos and bellow at an old television that sits high in a corner behind the bar.

Standing in the shadows at a small round table, Octavio Tavi Rivera makes notes on a screenplay. He glances at the mailmen and the TV.

One mountain of a mailman points at the TV, ranting, Ethan Burns! I tell you, his old man must be rolling in his grave!

You think he gives a rat’s rump? the barkeep objects. He’s rolling in his old man’s dough.

Tavi shoves the script in a backpack, drinks up, squeezes between the mailmen, puts money on the bar. The barkeep nods.

Tavi leaves.

The mountainous mailman watches Tavi leave, makes sure he’s gone. That kid gives me the jitters. Always scrutinizing us. Then, whispering, He’s not Postal Police, is he Clyde?

Not that I know of, Clyde the barkeep replies. At least he doesn’t have to blow cobwebs out of his wallet when it comes time to pay the bill. Unlike some who shall not be named—Danaher…

The other mailmen roar. Danaher tries to swing their mockery back to the TV, gesturing again and thundering, Look at him grinning. The sad spectacle!

Framed by imitation wood grain and worn knobs on the battered TV cabinet, relics of a bygone era in home entertainment, the face of Ethan Burns smiles a forced smile.

Teetering on the knife-edge of 50, Ethan is a fit fellow looking a bit yellow in this lurid light. Then the ancient console disappears, and—

THROUGH THE TV:

The set of a daytime cable TV show. Low-budget glitter. A large chintzy sign reading WHO CAN TELL? spelled out in light bulbs, hangs above the set.

Ethan stands next to a woman whose name tag reads BABS. Her brow furrows, suggests cogitation. A tinny clock bongs. I’ll repeat the question, Ethan says. Who can tell you about living in hives and making honey?

Babs squints. Ah… Umm… A bumblebee?

That’s it! Ethan cries. Bumblebee is correct! Ten thousand dollars is yours, Babs!

Music, in unmelodic triumph, kicks in. Babs hugs Ethan and howls in his ear.

Ethan smiles heroically into the camera, signing off. Join us tomorrow, because…Who… Can… Tell?

Canned applause instantly halts. Feet pound for the exit.

Over a speaker, someone yawns and says, That’s a wrap, people. Last one to the bar believes in the saving power of art.

With one voice, the entire crew shout, Art who? They swarm and swirl around Ethan, wrapping cable, carrying lights, moving set pieces.

Babs hasn’t loosened her grip on Ethan.

I am such a fan of your father’s films, she says. Why don’t they make westerns like that anymore? And you were so cute in the ones you were in.

Maybe the morality is too simple. Maybe we’re too cynical. The world’s moved on…

But it’s Babs who’s moved on. Ten grand! Wow! Maybe I’ll look you up after I have my makeover. Who can tell, right…? And with a twinkle in her eye, she settles into her bear hug and squeezes Ethan’s buns.

A production assistant in a miniskirt arrives and pries Babs off Ethan.

Ethan turns and nods to his cameraman, an African-American whose turtleneck and beret ooze cool in the Shaft, John Shaft way.

Ethan asks, Who was I today, J.B.?

"Janet Leigh in Psycho. Lit you hot. Came in tight every time you smiled that grimace-y smile of yours. Man’s got to flex his artistic muscle once in awhile. Use it or lose it. Otherwise—atrophy… death."

The assistant in the miniskirt passes.

Thanks, Ethan says.

They always follow the money, the assistant replies, not pausing to chat.

Whereas I always follow the skirt… J.B. croons in cool hot pursuit.

Lights snap off, leaving Ethan in shadow. The WHO CAN TELL? sign snaps off.

A voice booms through the darkened set. Another day, another erotic death grip from a woman named Babs. Accept your doom, Ethan Burns.

Ah, the voice of fate, Ethan muses, played by my own agent… Lets a man know where he stands.

LATER:

In a dressing room, Ethan removes his pancake makeup. His visage is green in the mirror. Ethan’s agent, a polished older gent, stands behind him. Breaking a thick silence, he says, Daytime talk show time.

Ethan eyes meet his in the mirror. Again? Ratings down? We getting the axe?

You sound like you wish they would. He looks at his watch. Tanning sesh in twenty.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s a wallet?

When you look like a wallet, we’ll charge ’em for a lift… Uh, Ethan, that surgeon…?

You go.

I’ve been. It’s just a consultation.

"What do I need surgery for? To look younger for Who Can Tell?"

Exactly. For who can tell?

Why, Bobby Hightower, are you trying to be philosophical, or are we about to break into an Abbott and Costello routine?

What’s the difference?

"Sometimes I’d like to lift your face. Clean off your venerable old head."

Chip off the old block.

I ain’t the milkman’s boy… So, the cheerful morning drivellers. To what do I owe the honor?

Your father’s hundredth anniversary.

That crept up. ‘One hundred years ago my father, Matt Burns, King of the Celluloid Old West—an American icon—was born.’ Dot, dot, dot, fill-in-the-blank, blah.

"The retrospective has, and I quote, ‘sparked renewed interest in the archetypal westerns of Matt Burns.’ Five Matt Burns classics directed by Henry Hyde are coming out in HD. There’s