The scene opens to the backwood swamps of Kentucky, otherwise known as GOD'S COUNTRY. In the distance, the sound of a banjo is heard playing as the scene pans across the swamp to a small marsh where the brousins, Luke & Duke Dibbins are seen, Luke standing over a fire cooking something, while Duke is working on what appears to be some kind of lab setup.
Luke: Hey Dukey, whut does yo' reckon about th' grub ah foun' by th' side of th' road? It was still twitchin' when ah foun' it, an' it sho'nuff made me git t' starvin'.
Duke looks over at Luke and nods his head in approval. His top lip covered in the faintest of mustaches, arcs up into a smile as his nostrils flare up when he inhales.
Duke: Let me tell yo' sumpin bruhz, as enny fool kin plainly see. Yo' knows thet ah love armadiller, it is one of th' bess smellin' meats out thar, so yo' knows ah's ready t'eat. When will thet be done?
Luke looks down into the fire, picks up a Dibbins Handmade Electrical Hammer, turns it backwards and slams the claw into the armadillo shell. He lifts it up to his nose, smells it, then sticks out his tongue on the underbelly of the beast.
Coprited and bulshet
Luke: Shit Dukey, it almos be done bruhz. Ya kin tell it good when th' meat tase kinda gamey. Delisus nomsayin?
Luke drops the armadillo back onto the fire as Duke nods his head again and bends over the lab he's working on.
Duke: Th' 'shine's amos ready too bruhz. We's gonna be eetin' and drinkin' like kings t'nite. Almos lik' we gonna be when we win dem her'core belts.
Luke looks shocked. Well, he actually looks the same, it's just that the slackjawed yokel look is a bit hard to read. They really only have one look, but whatever.
Luke: Waitasexund, Is yo' tellyng me thet yo' were on over thar makin' moonshine an' not meth? ah's surprised bruhz, ah figgerd fo' sho'nuff thet yo' were cookin' up some meth agin. Wal, ah hope yer moonshine is fine, last time ah had sum ah woke up in 'bama married up wif t'Maw agin.
Duke: Sorry 'bout that Lukey. ah knows yo' an' Maw were pow'ful sad about havin' t'git divo'ced agin. But look atcha now, af'er she beat th' shit outta yo'; yo' kin now take a beatin' wif th' best, thet is whuffo' we is a-gonna be th' noo herdco'e tag champions at Th' Probin' Groun's
Luke's look softens to a slackjawed yokel look.
Luke: Yer right bruhz, ah's so'ry fo' even brin'in' it up. ah's jest nervous about us tryin' t'win th' herdco'e tag belts an' makin' a real name fo' weselves. ah hope we kin hoof it in thar, kick some ass, an' win them herdco'e belts an' brin' them back home an' make ev'ryone proud, cuss it all t' tarnation. Especially Maw an' Paw an' gran'pa Ben, as enny fool kin plainly see.
Luke wipes away what may be a tear from his eye as he thinks about Grandpa Ben. Then he lifts the armadillo, takes a bite off of the armadillo tail and chews thoughtfully.
Luke: Th' grub is done bruhz, so yo' might be hankerin' t'come git sumpin t'eat while yo' kin. We haf some trimenjus trainin' t'start on t'morry night.
Duke: Whooooeeeyyyyy, Fry mah hide, Ah cannot wait t'sink mah teeth into thet sweet dillo meat. Thank yo' fo' findin' it. Th' moonshine is done too, less git t'grubbin'!
Duke brings over two mason jars full of a clear liquid as Luke busts out a chainsaw to cut the armadillo in half.