(The scene opens deep in the sticks, otherwise known as Dibbins Country. All around are mesquite trees and dirt, and in the middle of all of this, is a Ford ratty, rusted F150 pickup with a trailer hitched to the back. Everyone knows who this trailer belongs to, it's the trailer that belongs to the Brousins, Luke and Duke Dibbins. In fact, they're both right there.)
(Sitting on a lawn chair with three of the plastic rungs busted out is Duke, his mullet and white trash tattoos straight from Walmart are one of a kind. Standing is his brother-cousin Luke, who has a big giant truck hat on his enormous mongoloid head reading: LUKE. Rumor has it that Luke wears the hat on his head so he doesn't forget his name.)
(They're both drinking some clear liquid from mason jars and smoking self-rolled cigarettes. Luke smiles over at his brousin Duke, his brown, tobacco-stained teeth and dirt-covered arms and torso really make him quite the catch around these parts.. if you happen to be related to him.)
Luke: Hey Dukey, ah sure is glad thet we is a-gonna be in tag team ackshun on th' noo show Af'er Hours. We haf trained fo' a few days an' af'er us winnin' th' Herdco'e Tag titles, ah reckon we is on th' track towards winnin' all th' champion belts in UTA. Don't yo' reckon so?
(Duke nods his head, leans over, and spits out a large amount of chaw onto the rotting wood deck that these idiots have built for their mobile trailer. What kind of morons would do that? Only a Dibbins.)
Duke: Yeah bruh we is th' greatess tag team on account o' th' belt we git. Hell we sh'd call ourselves th' Die Nasty, on account o' we is nasty in th' rin' an' we doesn't die. Jest like thet Speckre fella who ah reckon is also a ghost now, o' a demon, ah fo'git which.
Luke: Ju see thet yo' an' me is gonna be defendin' th' herdco'e belts aginst thet no fine varmit Sexy Hardon? As enny fool kin plainly see. ah w'd not wo'ry a sin'le hair on yer haid about it, Dukey. Thet guy is a grost dude, he likes sexy an' hardons! He even put it in his name fo' god's sake!
Duke: Yeah ah sar him talk about bein' hardco'e an' gittin' a vicko'y on over us but we is th' Dibbins brousins, ain't nobody gonna stop us fum bein' winners! Am ah right o' is ah right?
Luke: Yer right Dukey. Yo' sho'nuff is right.
(Luke stares at Duke)
Luke: Yo' knows bruz, yo' haf a better mussache than Sexy Hardon does. ah reckon he's jealous, so yo' might be hankerin' t'make sho'nuff he don't try t'steal yer stache.
(Duke almost doubles over in laughter.)
Duke: Him, steal mah mussache? Ya gotta be kittin me! Less hoof it whip this hyar fella's ass in our herdco'e tag match an' shet his mouth! Fry mah hide! Alright?
(Luke nods in agreement with Duke as they resume their smoking, drinking, and shootin the shit.)
(Fade to black)
"La Flama Blanca is a straight up piece of s@%# coward!"
- Chris Hopper