The scene opens up to the middle of the sticks. That's redneck slang for the backwoods, the 'forest' of the South, the 'outback' of Texas, you get the point. A dirty, dusty, ratty ass tent is sitting in the middle of a terrible looking, sparse cluster of Mesquite trees.
Moaning and groaning is heard coming from the area of the tent. A light rustling sound and the clanking of what could only be described as a metal chain or possibly a belt buckle can be heard coming from the general direction.
"Ohhhh uuugggghhhhh, it won't fit in the gol' damn hole, I'm pushin' as hard as I can!"
The voice is decidedly Southern with a pretty blatant drawl to it.
"Get in thar dammit, you belong in that hole, do it or I'll cut you off!"
"Uuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhh aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh thar we go! It's all the way in!"
The scene pans around just behind the tent to show Luke Dibbins and his brother-cousin (Brousin) Duke Dibbins both kneeling in front of a hole that has a homemade hand-painted sign nailed to a tree above it reading "prairie dog hole". Luke's hand is down the hole and he's pumping his arm up and down in the hole.
Duke: Do ya got it?!
Luke: Not yet Dukey! I'm trying ta get it, but it ain't gonna come out.
Duke: Hang on, let me get in thar too, we kin both fit in that hole.
Now Duke shoves his arm into the hole with Luke and they are both pumping their arms up and down in the hole, until finally, Duke's face breaks out into a huge smile.
Duke: I got it Lukey! Check it..
Duke pulls out a prairie dog and hands it to Luke who puts it in a burlap sack. They do a very awkward high-five and walk over to the smoldering remnants of a campfire.
Luke: Aww shit Dukey, we got a tag match!
Duke: Aww shit.
The scene fades out to black.