This flick kicks off by telling us that it's dedicated to "the heroes of the West who preferred whisky to Coca Cola". Okay, then. So, this Old West con artist is on the run from some rubes he pissed off (his cure-all gave them the shits) when he meets a ghost who claims to be Davy Crocket, although frankly he looks more like the ghost of some homeless bum who died under a bridge somewhere. Whoever he is/was he wants a favor, but what that is exactly I couldn't tell you since the sound in this movie keeps fading in and out and is so fucking bad that you can barely understand a goddamned thing anyone is saying. Whatever the hell their mission is, along the way the main guy romances a hottie, Mexican bandits attack his train (this scene actually has some good bits, like when someone standing on the train actually kicks a bandit in the head and right off his horse), and there's a gunfight. Through it all the ghost helps the main guy out (by stopping a roulette wheel on his number, for example) and plays dumb, sitcom pranks, like swapping out a cooked lobster for a live one. He also drinks endless amounts of booze, so apparently you can still get shitfaced when you're a ghost and believe me that is a load off my mind. Eventually it turns out that there's a treasure (or maybe they already mentioned this, who fucking knows?), so the bandits give the main guy the business and then hop a train to go find it. They didn't count on the undead Davy Crocket and his ghostly pals though: first Davy rescues the main guy, then the ghost of Johnny Appleseed delays the bandits by planting apple trees on the train tracks, and finally the ghost of Pecos Bill (who, for some inexplicable reason, has hair like a 1980s new waver) wraps it all up by blowing the entire train to kingdom fuck, killing every bad guy and innocent bystander aboard.

Truly fucking bizarre, and all but incomprehensible. It sucked less shit than this though.

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