Buckshot (2017) Movie Script

- You're
call has been forwarded
to an automatic
voice message system.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Charlie
- Darlene, dammit,
you're moving the phone
too far away.
He can't even hear me.
Happy birthday
There you go son,
hope you have a good birthday.
Real sorry I couldn't be
there for it, but
I'm gonna make that big six.
Me and Crystal listened
to that song you emailed.
Holy shit kid, it blew us away.
I'd ease up on that
twang though.
You sound a little too
much like your old man.
And them are some
big shoes to fill,
you know what I mean.
Hey son, I know you want
to come out and visit,
but you can't believe this.
My band's new schedule
just came out
and talking about a tour.
and the next one I promise
will be worth it.
We'll get to it.
Honey tonight
Is wheels up, drop a tailgate on your pickup truck
Slide on over next to me
I'll show you off
Fill them all with jealousy
Kicking down the main street
Break it down
Rock this quiet little
country town
Oh I want to keep
cruising all night long
If they country DJ
plays our song
Honey tonight
- Excuse me, can I put this
up on your bulletin board?
It's for a showcase
for Lucky Owens.
Thanks so much.
- Whoa.
- I'm sorry.
Can I get a towel?
Thank you.
- It's okay, a little beer
cologne never hurt anybody.
I'm Charlie Stillman.
- June.
Tell Lucky I'm ready
for his showcase.
I gotta get that
record contract.
I ain't getting no younger.
- And you ain't gettin'
sober either.
- Whoa, whoa, hey dude,
back off man.
All right, show this lady
some respect.
- Can you put his beer
on my tab?
- You a singer?
- God no, I work for
Lucky Owens.
Where are you from?
- Jersey.
- Figures.
- What's that mean?
- A bro country song
like that on that stage,
big mistake.
- Hey, you hungry?
You want to get some
pie with me?
- I don't think so.
- What?
Are you serious?
Come on, who passes up
blueberry pie?
- How about you look me
up when you find yourself
cause whatever this is,
I don't want no part of it.
Lost my license
So I don't drive
Yeah, I got pulled
over for a DUI
My girl done left
Took my dog away
Got some debts that
I cannot pay
The only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
My life is a country song
- You've known about
this for months.
Why wouldn't he have
mentioned it before?
Well the show's in less
than a week.
Okay, I'll let Lucky
know Buckshot's request.
I told you I wasn't interested.
- I'm just here to rap with
the man about the showcase.
- You get that Buckshot shit
worked out?
- He won't fly, Lucky.
He wants an RV and a
driver to chauffeur him
from Seattle to here.
- Motherfucker, if he
doesn't show,
I loose my advance.
- Sir, I'm Carl Stillman's son.
- Goddamnit, just do it, get us
a driver.
And send that kid to my office.
- You're Carl Stillman's kid.
- Yeah.
I thought since you
and my pops were tight,
I'd stop by
and introduce myself.
- Pretty lady, right?
Spent the salad days with
this lovely creature.
- Since my old man
rocked this place,
I thought you might hook
me up with a spot
in your showcase?
- Your old man
only cared about two things.
Drinking and pussy.
Neither of them made him
a good country singer.
And he loved fucking other
people's wives,
including mine.
Here's some parting advice,
find yourself a new last name.
- Good luck you hick hop poser.
- I thought you'd be halfway
back to Jersey by now.
- Okay.
Let's start over.
I'm Charlie Stillman.
I'm a country music fan.
- You're part of the problem.
Nashville doesn't need anymore
songs about
beer, buds, or girls in
short shorts.
That ain't country,
and neither are you.
- Your phone call made it
sound like this Buckshot dude's
kind of a jerk.
- Have you ever heard
of the song,
"Darling Eyes"?
I learned true love
Is too much to bear
Fooled my poor
heart into dying
His song writing's what
put him on the map,
but he took it for granted.
People quit booking him
cause he'd be too drunk to play,
and that's if he even showed up.
- Good as new.
- Well thank you Charlie.
You seem like a nice guy,
and your voice ain't half bad.
- Can you get me into
that showcase?
- I can't help you there.
- Can I use the restroom,
like clean up?
- Lucky is still here.
- It's a lot of driving,
but easy money.
- Who's the headliner?
- Buckshot Thomas.
- Hell no.
- Wait, what's he say?
- Shh.
- Come on, Mike, sleep on it.
- I wouldn't
drive that guy to jail.
- Is that the driver?
- Give it a
second thought.
- Okay, second thought,
- Wait, wait, wait.
- Transportation is supposed
to be your goddamned job.
Roscoe gave me a list of names.
Find me any asshole
that can drive an RV.
- I'm gonna help you.
I can do this.
- Here's the job.
You've got five days to
get that son of a bitch
from Seattle to Nashville.
You want to get paid,
you make that
goddamned deadline.
- I don't care about the money.
I'll do it for a spot
on the showcase.
- You've got some balls.
Remember, that motherfucker
is not operating
on all cylinders.
He makes it on time,
you play the showcase.
- Lucky's gonna want you
to call me and check in
every morning.
And the other number is my cell.
- What's your favorite color?
- I'm gonna have you
land in Seattle
first thing tomorrow morning.
- Maroon?
- Charlie, stop with the
dating questions.
- Red.
Oh, orange.
All right--
- Yellow, okay.
- Yellow.
I'm gonna bring you back
something cool.
- Charlie, no.
Don't get me any gifts, please.
- It's a thank you for scoring
me the job,
and the showcase.
- Showcase?
- Yep.
It's my payment.
Boy, if you have trouble
You ain't been in for
- Can I help you?
- I'm looking for
Buckshot Thomas.
- You the guy paying
his bar tab?
The son of a bitch owes me
400 bucks.
- No, man, he's got the
wrong guy.
Oh, okay, let's all
chill out here.
- Howdy fellas.
Rack 'em up.
Maybe I'll win some money back.
- You said
he'd have the money.
- Who?
- Your little
fella here.
- Put it on my tab,
I think he's good for it.
- I'm your driver,
Charlie Stillman.
- I think I'm gonna need a
minute here
with my associate, por favor.
- Kid, you ever been in a
knife fight?
Let me tell you what happens.
Son of a bitch,
cause you never,
ever forget the cash.
Now get out there
and get that RV pointed south.
I'll be out in a minute,
all right.
- Now.
Go get that money out of the
glove box.
Get back here,
and pay these boys
like your supposed to.
Go, go, go, go, go.
Go, go, go, go, go.
- What the hell was that all
about man?
- Just, take a left
right up there.
Son of a bitch.
Wait here.
I'll be right back.
- It stops now.
You've been told before
not to come.
You know what asshole,
I've had it with you.
You come here all the time.
- Oh shit.
- Get out.
- We got any trash bags?
Trash bags?
don't ever get married.
Country living
That's all we know
You catch a song on an old
dirt road
You can call everybody
you know
Yes sir, let's rock and roll
Take a left on old Mill Road
Three or four miles
that's all
- The Trailer Hitch Boys, man.
- Pull over, I gotta piss.
- There's a restroom
back there.
- I ain't gonna piss in
that midget bathroom.
Pull over.
It ain't that far
Hear the same stories
About ten times
How we busted all
those bottles
on that one stop sign
About how we got
stuck all night
Me and Buckles
- Thought you had to piss.
- This here is Poncho.
- Jesus.
- Goddammit.
- I didn't know you weren't a
THB fan.
- Yeah, well this here
is my trip
and we're gonna do it my way.
I got some extra stops
to make down the road.
- As long as we
get to Nashville,
we can do whatever floats your
boat, pops.
- And,
if you ever call me that again,
you're gonna wind up
like your damn telephone.
Where the hell you from, boy?
- Jersey, why?
- Cause only some
goddamned Yankee would wear
pansy ass clothes like this.
Oh shit.
- Yeah, started playing at 13.
- Son of a bitch stuck me
with a goddamned wannabe.
- A wannabe wouldn't have a spot
lined up in Lucky's showcase.
- Well hold on.
You want to be a country singer?
- My dad was a country singer.
- The hell is this?
Are these some kind of songs or
some Yankee poetry?
- I'm gonna rewrite one
of those songs,
make it my own.
- Listen here shit for brains,
once you've been
divorced three times,
locked up in Alabama and
banged a pair of
bowl-legged sisters
in the bathroom of the
Grand Ole Opry,
then maybe,
just maybe
you can write a country song.
I don't know.
Well see, fucking Lucky.
- Gramps, I got us
adjoining rooms.
So hard
To sit and drink alone
But it's easy
After two or three are gone
I thought you high-tailed
it back to Washington.
It's cool.
Can I get a beer?
- Oh sure thing.
- Thank you.
I'm a big fan of your song, man.
Darling Eyes.
- Are you Buckshot Thomas?
Well holy shit mister,
I love that song you
did with Conway Twitty.
Played it at my third wedding.
- I appreciate that little lady.
Hey, what's your handle?
- Call me Dixie.
- Damn, Dixie.
Them eyes of yours
are mesmerizing.
- Oh I bet you say that to all
the girls.
that says you can't name
another one of my songs.
- Just cause I can't name one
doesn't mean I'm not a fan.
You want to talk about
90s country,
I'll talk about 90s country
all day and night, man.
- Who'd want to talk
about that dog shit.
- Well this is for your
other greatest hit.
Fiddlin' with my Heart.
- Oh yeah.
- Yo, Dixie,
who's this Gus guy?
- Oh well, now Gus here
is part of our wall of fame
for regulars who passed on.
We saved their favorite drink
and put their name on it.
We put them in front of
their favorite bar stool
on their birthday.
Happy birthday, Gus.
- I was thinking we
pull out early tomorrow.
Around eight?
- Dixie, another round for me
and Gus.
- Sure thing.
Keep the bottle Buckshot.
But it's easy
After two or three are gone
- Where it'd all go wrong, Gus
bet you had a couple
marriages that went sour.
Lost all your money.
- I got to close her on up.
I think you should take
him on home.
- I'm gonna make that stop.
Then I'm gonna do
that damn concert.
Then, the grand finale.
- Gotta put Gus to bed now.
Take good care.
- Hey what are you doing?
Put that back.
- No, Gus is going with us.
He deserves better than
rotting away in some bar.
Oh whoa.
I gotta make my stop.
My stop.
Then I got,
I got,
I got to play that damn concert.
- Just lay down, all right.
- Then... eh, then... eh
One more thing.
Honky Tonk
My honky tonk
Honky tonk overdrive
Cruising down the...
- Shit.
Yo Buckshot, let's get moving.
- Hello?
- June, it's Charlie.
- I texted you yesterday.
Why haven't you--
- You know who Conway Twitty is?
- Uh, Charlie, I really
need to know
where you guys are.
Lucky is freaking out.
He's like about to
have an aneurism.
- Uh huh.
- Oh, hold on.
Someone's on the other line.
- It's actually me.
- Favorite artist like Twitty?
- Charlie Pride is comparable.
Why you on two phones?
Are you guys okay?
How is it going with Buckshot?
- Got him wrapped around my
little finger.
Shit, hold on.
Lucky's calling me right now.
Hey Lucky, I got Charlie
on the other line.
I'm gonna put him through to
you, okay.
- Where the fuck are you?
- Hey man.
Been driving for
four hours already.
- Einstein, I said where the
fuck are you?
- Everything is totally
under control here man.
- How can you be so stupid.
You got a fucking smart phone.
Use the GPS and answer me.
Are you there?
- Hello?
- Hey jerk!
He got no kin
Just a tin can that's gone
His name was Gus
He wasn't like the
rest of us
- What do you need kid?
- Hey man, those lyrics
are from last night, huh?
- Yeah well, some old
boys they keep journals,
- Every day?
- I'm a song writer.
That's what I'm supposed to do.
- Hey man, I found this song
last night.
It reminds me of Charlie Pride.
Here we go Gus.
Love, it will come
And it will go
I thought of this when
she left out that door
I don't care if I loose
a few bucks
But get your damn hands
Off my pickup trucks
- Boy, you're about as
country as Howdy Doody.
- Who?
- Exactly.
What the hell Charlie Pride song
is that supposed to sound like?
- Man.
That jaunty one,
the jaunty one.
- Whoa.
What does Charlie Pride
look like?
- He's that big fat guy, dude.
- No.
- Yeah, man, with the mullet.
- No.
- The mullet and the
belt buckle.
- We all got damn belt buckles.
- And freckles.
- No.
No. Wrong, wrong.
He's a black fella.
There ain't no hope for you,
Where in the hell is Poncho?
- You'd be lying in some ditch
with your ass kicked
if I didn't drag your sorry
sack back here last night.
- I haven't got time for
your wannabe bullshit.
- Man that showcase
isn't bullshit, all right.
It's the only way I'm
gonna get people to see me.
- This ain't country.
You ain't country.
Now where's my goddamned gun?
- That drawer.
You were talking crazy
last night.
- You mind you own
damn business.
Well all the trials
and heartaches
Come from the
Gold Fools state
While out in this world
Stumbling through life
- Yo.
Watch it.
- Jersey, huh?
Them people up there
bleed Springsteen.
How come you didn't
wind up singing
"Born in the USA"?
- You're a weirdo, weren't you?
A loner.
Weird ass country kid.
- Hey I got a question for you.
- Shoot, partner.
- Where'd those "Darling
Eyes" lyrics come from?
- You know, kid, I've
bagged more women than I ever
sang about.
Kicked more ass than a
Tijuana titty club bouncer,
and hell, there ain't nobody
in this damn world
that can write a country
song better than me.
- No, I'm being serious.
Why'd you write "Darling Eyes"?
You listening?
- The hell with this.
I'm leaving.
- Are you nuts man?
You're gonna get
yourself killed.
- Kid.
Just drive this goddamned thing
and leave me the hell alone,
will ya?
Turn to suicide
It ain't nothing new
for me to see
The prophet turned
and said to me
It's just a day
In an American life
It's just a day
In an American life
Hey, where the hell are we?
- Some truck stop in Wyoming.
- Hot damn, truck stops
are like Amsterdam.
They got drugs and hookers
and greasy food.
- Hey man, let's make
this stop quick, all right.
I just need some caffeine.
If we make Nebraska tonight,
we'll be back on schedule.
- Wait, wait.
Caffeine's for pussies kid.
What you need is some
trucker speed.
I think I can get us
some right over there.
- No, man.
That stuff's bad news.
I'll be right back.
- I might stretch my legs.
- Hey, don't go far.
What the fuck?
- Hey.
- Oh.
- I've been doing some recon.
Dealer's room has got a
blue bandana hanging on it.
- No, man.
Come on.
- I'm in charge now.
Yeah, come on.
Let's go kid.
Got my back, kid.
- Man, I've been in
sketchier places than this.
- This is no mobster
pizza joint.
We got no clue what's
behind that door now.
Keep your ears peeled and your
eyes open.
Shit, you know what I mean.
Go on in.
- What, what you want.
- That depends on what
you got there, cutie pie.
- Check this shit out.
- Hey screw all this,
all right, let's bounce.
- You boys five oh?
- Look man, all we want is
two blues and one red.
- All right.
If you ain't no cop,
then you got to do a
Tijuana twister.
- Never have been a
fan of Mexican drugs, but
the kid here will do it.
- Oh hell no man.
- Then get the fuck out of here.
- Hold on.
How about if I just
fill you full of lead?
- Yo, chill out, all right.
I'll do it.
All right, now give
us the stuff.
- You got
to do the other line.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Step off, we had a deal,
all right.
Wo shi shuo
Tijuana twister?
Or I'll fill you both
full of lead.
- The woman's got a
point there kid
and a shotgun.
Go on.
Get up there.
Oh hey, hey,
my uncle showed me one trick,
you know.
Never back down from a threat.
Always call their bluff.
Nine out of 10 times,
you come out on top, but
I don't know,
a Chinese with a shotgun, hell.
- Hey man, what do you think
those hillbillies gave me
though dude?
- Hell kid, I don't know.
Just pretend like
you're on tour.
- Hey, hey no more drugs
on this tour though, okay.
- Well we got to do
what we got here.
- No, give me those.
- No, they're mine.
- My stomach's wrecked, man.
- Well we ain't ate in hours.
- Fucking cocaine, dude.
- Here are your burgers.
- Thank you.
Oh man.
That ass is pure Crystal Gale.
No, no, no, wait.
Tammy Wynette,
- My tongue is freaking numb,
I'm not hungry.
- You gotta eat.
- I gotta piss.
- Man.
You in here boy?
Where are you?
Whoa, cowboy.
Somebody got a
little bit sideways.
Come on, there we go.
Come on, that's it.
I got ya.
Oh man.
Come on kid.
Let's go.
There we go.
- I'm in love.
Not with you, you jackass.
She's like a Georgia peach.
Ripe Georgia peach.
- Uh huh, peach.
- We gotta get to Nashville
so I can see June.
You gotta get us to Nashville.
- Yeah, yeah.
You just rest kid.
I'll get us to our next stop,
don't worry.
- Can you give me a bubble bath?
Gun by my side
Always ready for a fight
Faced off with that old boy
Got him in my sights
- Hey kid.
This place changed
it all for me.
Told my old man I wanted
to be a singer
right in this here room.
Son of a bitch kicked
my ass good.
Turned out the be the best day
of my life.
Cause from then on,
I knew I'd never be my old man.
This here was my bedroom.
I lined all these walls with
Waylon Jennings posters
and albums.
That old boy, his voice,
his sound,
never heard anything like it.
Record executives
hated the Waylon's sound.
Though, he just walked the
hell away from Nashville,
created his own damn style.
- Hey where are we?
- Luck, Texas.
- Yo, wait, did you say Texas?
- Yep.
- You're screwing with me man.
- Nope.
- All right, fine.
Your last stop, we got it done.
Let's get back on the road,
make up some time.
- This ain't my last stop.
I got one more to go.
- Yeah, so do I man, playing
that showcase in Nashville.
- Yeah I watch you kid.
All I can think about is
wasted talent.
Always chasing the next fad.
What the hell good that
do your old man, huh?
- Lecture time over?
- You don't get it do you boy?
Take the damn keys.
Go play your
fucking showcase.
- It doesn't work like that man.
I gotta get you to the concert
in time
if I want to play
Lucky's showcase.
- Like I said before,
you go on stage with this act,
I'll guarantee you're
gonna be carbon copy
of a dozen other guys
just like you.
You know, they sound like you.
- I'm not stupid, man.
I know my dad's songs need work.
Right now it's all I got.
- There's a way to do
this thing son.
Hell, I can show you.
Look, you help me
to my last stop,
I'll help you try to find your
true country performance.
- Well if we stick around here,
we're not gonna make
that showcase or concert.
- Just call Lucky,
tell him you broke down.
Make up some shit.
He'll push a soundcheck.
Always did.
Come on kid.
Buy us some extra time.
You're in good hands son.
- Who's that?
- Hey there Nickel.
Got a little friend here
wants to say hello.
- Let me have it.
Drinks too much.
That's impossible.
I didn't think they
stacked shit that high.
- Settle down you old lanky
cranky hell raiser, you.
- Oh, Buckshot Thomas,
you salty son of a bitch.
Oh goddamn.
You turned into an old cuss.
Who's your friend?
- Well, I'd kind of like you
to figure that out.
- Yeah.
Oh this feels like some made by
some goddamned Yankee.
Is this some roadie's guitar?
He's green.
Very green.
He plays with a lot of grit.
Problem is,
it's got two different sounds.
Sooner or later, one of
them's got to win out.
What's your name boy?
- I'm Charlie.
I'm a singer songwriter
like Buckshot.
- Yeah, is that so?
Hey, you got some determined
lines there.
Makes sense you held up
with this old outlaw.
- Nickel, do they still
sell liquor in this county?
- Dolly Parton still sleep
on her back?
- Hey kid, go down there
and get us some go juice.
- Yo man, we still got
training to do.
- Place is two doors
up on the left.
- Hustle up now.
Don't dilly dally.
- What the hell brings
you to town?
- Well, on the way to my
farewell concert
down there in Nashville.
- Oh, one last concert.
Then what?
- Nickel,
did you ever wonder if
this was just it?
- This is it for me.
All these guitars
live on long after I'm gone.
Like your songs.
- Yeah well, I'm just trying to
make peace
with all this shit I did.
- Hey, June.
- Charlie, you gotta call
in on time.
Lucky's threatening to
send out another driver
to replace you.
- It's Buckshot, he went crazy.
- Well what happened?
- He forced some drugs on me
and then I must have passed out
cause then he hijacked the RV
and took us to Luck, Texas.
June, you there?
- That's west Texas.
You gotta get back on the road,
you're gonna miss the show.
- Can you maybe like say we're
in Nebraska or something?
I swear when I see you again,
I'll make it up to you.
- I'm trusting you Charlie,
don't screw this up.
- I owe you bigs.
I gotta go.
- Well, you should have
everything you need.
- You know, after all this is
done Nickel,
I'd like to leave you my guitar.
- What do I need it for?
- Safe keeping.
- What's going on with you?
- Here's the go juice
you ordered.
- We gotta mosey along here.
- Y'all just got here.
- We'll swing on back after
we're done with everything.
Grab that suitcase kid.
- You gonna stop by Cottonwood?
- Well boy, this is where
it all started.
Welcome to Luck, Texas, VFW.
- Man, they just leave
this unlocked?
- Hold on.
I gotta show you the best part.
- Man we came all this way for
free booze?
- Yeah, I am gonna have a drink
while you get yourself ready.
- I am ready.
- Now put that thing down.
Pick that up.
Go on back here and get
yourself prepared.
What the hell's taking so long?
- This is ridiculous.
- Part of training.
Get on out here.
Now, we can get started.
Grab that guitar.
Let me see that book.
Let me see that notebook.
All right, first lesson,
I should of done that
a long time ago.
Charlie, I became a
song writer because
I like telling my stories.
Some of them made up,
some of them real.
All that matters is that
I know where they came from.
It's that conviction
that people connect with.
- Yeah man, I don't know
where to start though.
Like I don't have stories.
It's the first time
I've been out of Jersey.
- You lost your old man,
didn't you?
Hey, pretty sure
some young gal's thrown you
for a loop.
Write about that stuff.
It's got meaning.
- Man, man, you're supposed
to be teaching me, though.
- I should be praying for you.
Can you just concentrate
on writing something
that's got some heart?
Why he's drinking so
- Hey man,
hey Buckshot,
I think I got something.
- Huh?
Whatcha lookin' at
Don't mess with a man
Wearing a cowboy hat
Especially one that's
Turned down low
You have no idea
Why he's drinking so
- That's not half bad kid.
But, only the lyrics
that support the song.
The voice has to do
the heavy lifting.
Hey there momma, hey.
Hey momma.
My old man forbid for
me to practice at home,
and I'd just come up
here for hours
belting out them lyrics
and just listening.
Now come on, get up here.
Give it a try.
- Hey there momma.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey,
just sing the damn song boy.
Whatcha looking at
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Partner, partner, let's just,
let's try to find the
unique part of your voice
that way you'll get
more confident,
sing it as yourself
cause you can't be me.
Whatcha looking at
Don't mess with a man
Wearing a cowboy hat
Especially one that's
Turned down low
Turn on that next road up here.
- We headed to Cottonwood?
- Turn in, pull in right here.
When I first started out,
I played dives like
this for free.
Nobody gave a shit who I was
or where I came from.
All about
confidence to sing.
Anytime, anywhere.
There she is.
Finally going home with
me where she belongs.
- Wait a minute,
this is the last stop?
- Used to hang over our mail.
When my old man traded
it for some
bar tab.
Cheap ass told me it was gonna
be mine when he was dead.
- Okay.
It's name's cottonwood?
- Don't point.
Gonna mosey on over there,
bullshit with them old boys,
and grab that bird.
You go hide in that bathroom.
You'll have to wait
a spell cause
I'm gonna tell them
there's a fire
in the back parking lot.
We go out, you sneak out
the front with the bird.
- And you'll have the
RV pointed south,
you got it man.
We had a deal.
I could have made it fine
- Fellas.
- Howdy.
- Hey.
- Hey.
Do you all know that
Kenny Rogers wears a wig?
- Bullshit.
- No, I'm telling you--
- Get out of here.
- There used to be this group
called the
New Christian Mistral,
swear to God.
Big group.
I went back stage cause my
buddies in it,
and I see Kenny Rogers
sitting there.
I didn't know it was him but,
he's bald as a cucumber.
And there's a wig sitting next
to him,
like a helmet
and they put it on his head
and whew,
Kenny Rogers.
He's still fat as hell,
but I mean.
That's how he became
Kenny Rogers.
I don't think he'd make it...
You guys give me just a minute.
I'll be right back.
- Hey man, have you
seen Buckshot?
- I ain't seen anybody
since 1968.
- Man for all I know,
that jackoff
might have already
hightailed it to Nashville.
- Don't feel bad.
Buckshot's pulled that
bird trick
on more than a few ole boys
around here.
News travels fast in a
small town.
See this here guitar?
Got a lot of strings on it.
It only takes one
to throw you out of tune.
just cause there's
one out of tune
doesn't mean all the others
follow suit.
You gotta find that one,
tune it in.
play me one of your songs.
- Oh, no man.
I really gotta go.
- Bullshit, come on.
Let me hear one.
- Let me know what you
think of this verse.
You don't know what
What was his tell
Living alone with his
Whiskey and beer
You don't know what
What might have been hell
- Hey man, I really gotta go.
- Damn fine lyrics, kid.
- Hey man, you got a phone?
- It's in there.
- Thank you.
- Jaybird.
- June.
- She ain't working
here anymore.
- Where is she?
- Fired is where she's at
you dumb motherfucker.
You think you can pull
some shit over on me.
- No, I can explain.
June had nothing to do with it.
She wasn't--
- I'm getting another driver
to bring Buckshot here.
You just stay put
and shut the fuck up.
- Hello?
- June, it's Charlie.
- What do you want?
- I'm so sorry.
- You put me in a really
bad situation.
- No, I can explain.
Things got really weird here.
- Unless you can get me
my job back,
I really don't have
anything to say.
- You could have told
me where you were going.
- That's my momma's grave.
I wasn't always a piece of shit.
There are some people
I cared for.
Grab them there, would you?
Get my guitar, will ya?
I learned true love was
Too much to bear
Til coming home
She's finally there
That's when I stared into
Her darling eyes
Now I hope your heart
Will forgive
All the things they say
Missing those darling eyes
Missing those darling eyes
Missing those darling
I love you sweetheart.
When she was born,
it changed my life.
Inspired me to write that song.
It took off
and so did I.
They said there was nothing we
could do.
My old man.
Chicken shit son of a bitch.
This is my last stop.
Let's head to Nashville.
- I'm not your driver
anymore man.
Lucky fired me.
I just came to say goodbye.
- That son of a bitch ain't got
the right.
When I finish with his ass,
you're gonna be on that stage.
Don't worry.
Hey, whoa, kid.
I don't think you
want to do that.
- I'm in charge of Poncho.
No more grand finale shit.
- That ain't none
of your business.
- I'm not driving
you across country
so you can blow your brains out.
- What the hell you care?
- You're the first person
ever fucking call my bluff.
I owe you for that.
You're not just some
miserable old bastard.
You cared for people.
Why not try again.
- Damn kid,
that's one of the first
sensible things
you said in this whole
damn trip, you know.
Who's gonna miss you
When you're gone
- Hey pull over right now.
- Shit.
Whoa, that was a
close call kid, huh.
I don't know how that
bullet missed you, but
the real copper's that
gravestone to the head.
You know, I'm pretty sure I'm
gonna surrender Poncho to you.
That stuff you said
really rang true.
- You almost killed me
back there.
- Yeah, I know, I know.
I'm sorry.
That bullet's been calling
my name for years and
you damn near took it for me.
- What choice do I have?
- Come on kid,
let's just go.
Go back to Nashville and
I'm gonna fix things up for you,
Hey you know,
I been thinking about
going on the straight
and narrow.
- No more booze?
- No more booze.
- You driving the rest
of the way?
- Hell no.
Get on up there.
Come on.
Hey, can we stop and get a pint?
Half pint?
Just an old empty bottle
It's staring back at me
Used to be such
Good old friends
Til that day back in '63
Met my friend
When I was young
While I was sitting on my
daddy's knee
Because of my
Dear old friend
I'm sitting here
In the penitentiary
Oh come on join me now
- Check, check,
check one, two.
One, two.
- It's about fucking time.
Hey Buck, Nancy Sinatra called.
She wants the boots back.
Mike, get Buckshot prepped.
We gotta get him checked
in 30 minutes.
As for your dumb ass,
you crossed the
wrong motherfucker.
- Hey.
The only reason I'm here
is cause of this kid.
You think about screwing him
out of that showcase then,
all right, we're fucking
out of here.
Let's go kid.
Come on.
- You win, cowboy.
- Hey you can finished
tuning this.
Off my stage.
Let's sing some songs.
- That's for the concert,
not your ass.
- Hey, you know that girl June
that used to work here?
- Yeah.
Some asshole got her fired.
She's working down at
Fiddler Junction.
It's a shithole.
I still think about you
All the time
- Bring those levels up.
Try again.
Right there.
I just want to make sure
I can hear my monitor.
Yee haw.
Being out on that stage,
there ain't nothing like it.
Makes me want to go back out on
the road.
- Hey man, I think I got
the last verse of my song.
- When is that showcase anyway?
- Two weeks.
- Really?
- I'll be ready.
I gotta take care of something,
all right.
I'll be back before eight.
- Reset the stage
for the second sound check
and let's hustle guys.
We're expecting a sellout.
- I'm back.
- Howdy ma'am.
Can we talk, just for a second?
Hold up, hold up.
Wait, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I screwed up.
I know that.
I really didn't intend
for you to loose your job.
I'm sorry.
- It's not your fault.
I should have quit that
job a long time ago.
- I'm done with all the bro
country stuff.
- I can see that.
- Buckshot even helped
me write my own song
for the showcase.
- Wait, you're still
doing the showcase?
- Buckshot smoothed
everything over.
We're golden, we're good to go.
I thought you'd be
stoked for me?
- People practice for years
before ever stepping
up on that stage.
You can't expect to just throw
it all together in a week.
Thank you for the flower,
it's beautiful.
- Everyone, we have
60 minutes til showtime.
- You were great out there.
Want one?
- Nope.
Nope, you hadn't been taking
care of this place, Lucky.
What do you think about maybe
taking me on a brand new tour?
- You're serious?
- Yeah.
I'd start playing them
smaller joints,
and just work my way up
to the bigger venues.
- That would be a losing
- You just said tickets sales
were up.
- Look partner,
final concerts always spike
ticket sales.
Folks figure you're
dying soon or something.
I'd just focus on your
twilight years.
- Hey Kyle, swing by the
Green Room
and see if Buckshot
needs anything.
Kyle, you copy?
I was raised on the Bible
But the bottle has
absolved me
Of it all
Last of the dying breed
To Live and Breathe
American Outlaw
Last of the dying breed
American Outlaw
- Hey everybody,
Buckshot Thomas.
- Appreciate y'all
coming out tonight
Hope you enjoy yourselves.
You owned that audience tonight.
- One foot in the grave
is all they saw out there.
- That's not true man.
You've still got it.
- What do you want from me?
I mean you got your
showcase, so.
- I'm not doing it.
I need more time man.
I'm gonna start over.
- Well good luck with that.
My stories are written.
- You're a songwriter.
That's what you're
supposed to do.
- You know...
When we first met,
I thought to myself this
kid ain't going far.
I ain't gonna waste my
time with him.
Sure as shit,
you proved me wrong.
You stood your ground.
Changed your ways.
you give me
just a little bit of hope.
Let's go.
- You headed back to Washington?
- This ain't my last stop.
- All right man, my driving
days are over.
- Ain't nobody invited your ass.
You take care.
You keep working on them songs.
You never know,
this might not be your
last stop either.
Hey man
Whatcha looking at
Don't mess with a man
Wearing a cowboy hat
Especially one that's
Turned down low
You have no idea
Why he's drinking so
Could be a woman
That done him wrong
Could be that old jukebox
Playing that sad song
Whatever it is it's best to
Pay him no mind
Now he's not really
much of a
Telling kind
You don't know what his
Sad eyes tell
Living alone with his
Whiskey and beer
You don't know what
What might have been hell
Makes you wonder though
Do outlaws shed tears
Truth be told there's a
Good heart inside
But most times
it's too hard to
Let down his pride
Looked in the mirror
What did he see
A broken old man
Struggling to be free
He shed a tear and I
I don't know why
Was pretty sure that outlaws
Never cried
You don't know what his
Sad eyes tell
Living alone with his
Whiskey and beer
You don't know what
What might might
have been hell
Now you know
That outlaws shed tears
Outlaws shed tears
Well down in the valley
Of all good and evil
There once lived a man
Without anyone
He sat on his porch
drinking whiskey
From the bottle
As he dreamed of a life
on the run
He just kept sittin' there
In his old rocking chair
Aging like yesterday's wine
His dreams and desires
Burned on like wildfire
Til he finally
made up his mind
Yeah, the fire in his soul
Burned hot as a coal
From the freedom
he used to deny
Without a care in this world
Unfettered or furled
What no small amount
Of self pride
Some couldn't handle
the ride
Yeah the fire in his soul
Burned hot as a coal
From the freedom
He used to deny
Without a care in this world
Unfettered or furled
With no small amount
Of self pride
Some couldn't handle
the ride
Yeah getting stoned
on good beer
And cheap wine
Some couldn't handle
the ride