Yeller'

PANEL:
The portrait of a COWBOY.  His hair has grown long from the uncare of the world, his chin has grown scruff from much of the same.  He has small scratches on his face that signify a scuffle at some point in his life.  Maybe it was meaningful, maybe it was simply a fall.  His hat isn't cocked, he still has pride in himself, after all.  He looks at the reader straight-on, with a look to tell them why they've wronged him.

COWBOY

You've all called me a forebearer of crime and deceit.  I say I'm the harbinger of my own will.

PANEL:
He hangs his head a little, breaking eye contact.  Less from shame and more from truth.

COWBOY

I don't expect my words to be written down.  I know the things I say will be lost to history.

PANEL:
THE COWBOY picks his head back up, chin to the crowd, looking at the reader once more, looking at them over his nose.

COWBOY

But take heed to what you hear--

PANEL:
A hand comes from off-frame, the wrist cuffed from a pinstripe suit.  THE COWBOY never breaks eye-contact with reader.  He rears his head down, as if telling a child a cautionary tale.

COWBOY

Six of us came into town and killed a man and I killed the judge that said I done him wrong, this is true.

PANEL:
THE COWBOY looks a bit angrier, coming to terms with his situation, as the suited hand plucks the hat from his head.  THE COWBOY leans his head away from the hand, filthy as he is, to not be dirtied by any man.  He continues looking at the reader.

COWBOY

No, I won't be remembered in the eyes of history.  My life is too unimportant to it but your lives depend on mine.

PANEL:
He centers his head again, continuing to speak to his audience, as another pair of suited hands move into frame from the side to lower a noose, obstructing his face.

THE COWBOY

The law says my life is forfeit by what they define as "justice".  I say justice is defined by your actions.

PANEL:
The noose is placed around THE COWBOY's neck, still loose.  He doesn't bother to fight it.

THE COWBOY

If that's the truth, then I say I had no fair trial.

PANEL:
The suited hands grab the rope tightly and snug the knot to the back of THE COWBOY's neck.  He still speaks to us as if nothing's changed.

THE COWBOY

They say six of us rode in and five rode off.  Well that ain't true.  My friends never left town.

PANEL:
THE COWBOY tilts his head up and looks down over his nose at the crowd once more, this time, he shows off the rope cutting into his neck and he smiles with furrowed brows.

THE COWBOY

I guess what I'm saying is, if I die...  Well...

PANEL:
The last panel is wide, and showcases the edge of a desolate town.  The crowd of people THE COWBOY speaks to all look to him upon his stage.  The rope hangs to his lower back, strung to the rafter on the stage.  He's somewhat far away from us, as if we're just another piece of the audience.  In the background is nothing but desert and mountains.  THE EXECUTIONER in the pinstriped suit stands by THE COWBOY to be his reaper.

THE COWBOY

...How well do you know your neighbors?

THE END