HOSS: Count? Of course it counts! The Keepers are a joke! They’ve lost track of the real War. They’re more outa touch than I am! I’m on the brink here, Becky. All I gotta do is knock this dog’s dick in the dirt and I’m gone beyond. You understand? Beyond! I’m in a whole other domain. Suddenly, I’m King Cobra! Todo el Mundo!

BECKY: It won’t happen, Hoss. They won’t recognize it.

HOSS: I’ll recognize it! Me! That’s the skinny right there. I’ll know. And that’s all that counts. Now get this Cornhusker outa here. We’re gonna go dry turkey until the drop.

CHASER: Hoss, look—there’s no Ref, there’s no score, there’s no nothing. Empty wasteland.

HOSS: I’m goin down the road with this bonefreak and that’s all there is to it. Head-to-head, til one’s dead.

REF: (to DOC) The circuit’s changed somewhat, from what I understand. Is that it? Is that what’s happened here? I’ve been assigned to the wrong circuit?

DOC: That could well be it.

REF: This never could have happened in the days of the old chalkboard. You simply checked the chalk and jumped on the Greyhound.

DOC: The Greyhound. Yes. Have you collected all your items?

(DOC helps REF gather his things and escorts him off.)

REF: I was a Union man. Things were organized.

DOC: (helping REF) It’s unfortunate, yes. We all seem to get swept along in the tidal wave. I was a Vaquero, myself.

REF: A what?

DOC: It doesn’t matter. Have you got all your things?

REF: I’m being shipped out. Is that it? Discarded?

DOC: It’s just that—well, everything has slipped way beyond the rules.

REF: The rules haven’t slipped. That’s one thing for sure. Rules are rules. Can’t change that.

DOC: No, I suppose not.

HOSS: Get him outa here!

REF: (as DOC escorts him offstage) A game’s a game. Rules make the game. Take the rules away and what have you got? Bibbidy bobbidy boop. Answer me that. A lotta pissin in the wind. That’s what you got. Pissin in the wind. They better have my check waitin for me back in Lincoln, that’s all I can say.

(DOC and REF have gone, leaving HOSS, CROW, CHASER, and BECKY. CROW cools down off his mad dance and begins to slowly circle HOSS. BECKY and CHASER move back.)

CHASER: Hoss, look, there’s no savvy to this. No Gold. You could wind up whiplashed and counterfeit.

HOSS: (to CHASER) Step back, Shotgun. There’s another deal been dealt here.

CROW: Here’s a posy! Here’s a posy! Judges? Rules? Lawbreaker. Set yer sick entourage up. Bring ’em on in here, thick. Line ’em up. They rule it. Fair is fair. They scam it. I’m game. Ready for the outcome.