The scene opens to the middle of the backwoods, where the Dibbins Trailer is seen, missing three of its four wheels, and resting in the middle of a muddy bog in the middle of a cleared brush area.
This is where Luke Dibbins is seen sitting in a plastic lawn chair on the shabby, wood-rotted deck. His feet are kicked up on what appears to be a hazardous and possibly radioactive barrel of some sort of sludge. His thin mustache is barely visible, the sweat on his upper lip making it far more present than it should be.
Sitting next to him is his brother/cousin "Brousin" Duke Dibbins. Duke is sitting on a similar plastic lawn chair, this one still has a tag from Walmart on it, so it was likely stolen. Both have that slack-jawed, sloped-brow yokel, redneck, hillbilly look on their face as they talk to one another.
Duke: Hey Lukey, whutchu reckon about us bein' double booked fo' two tag matches this hyar week on Vicko'y?
Luke shakes his head, removes his LUKE trucker cap, and rubs his balding scalp.
Luke: Hell Dukey, ah do not knows whuffo' them varmints'd does thet, but jest like Maw allus said, it's better t'be double teamed than not at all, ah reckon.
Duke nods his head in agreement.
Duke: Wal, ah's still not sho'nuff whuffo' they like pairin' us up aginst one opponent, but ah doesn't mind gittin' paid some money twice fo' th' same night. In fack, ah prefer it! Fry mah hide!
Luke: Me tuh, thass whuffo' ah's hankerin' t'git in as menny matches as we kin in, as enny fool kin plainly see. Yo' an' ah have a better chance t'win at least one of these fights.
Luke lights a hand-rolled, cheap cigarette and lights it, tossing the match over on the suspicious barrel on the deck. It mysteriously stays lit for a moment or two before extinguishing itself.
Duke: Yo' knows we hafta fust fight CBR, thet dadburn idiot who we had t'fight befo'e. He likes t'reckon he's tough, but ev'ry hide knows thet he's nothin' but all talk. Shet mah mouth! He kin't git into th' rin' an' step up like a real man wifout gittin' hisse'f hurt.
Luke: Ah hear yo' loud an' clear brother an' in fack, ah knows thet we also hafta fight his tag partner thet we also fought a few weeks back too. Thet Kendrix fella. He's one of them fancy types thet likes t'talk like a liberal Democrat an' use fancy smellin' soap. ah cain't wait t'kick his ass.
Duke: Ah ain't too wo'ried about eifer one of them fools as long as they give us some fine old South Car'linan dollars. Eff'n they does happen t'beat us, ah's not too wo'ried about it, in fack, I'll turn aroun' an' whip his ass outside of th' rin'. I'll beat him in th' yard, in th' parkin' lot, in his locker room, I'll does whutevah ah gotta does. Jest like enny other Dibbins'd
Luke: Yeah buddy, yo' knows how it is. We is about t'pick thin's up an' show all of these wrestlin' fellas whuffo' we is herdco'e an' whuffo' we is th' future UTA tag team champions. Yo' about ready t'go larn these two fellas a lesson, Dukey? I hear dey think dey gots a chance a'gin us!
Duke: Ya gotta be kitin' me!
Duke's face turns into a look of pure disbelief, or maybe constipation, it's hard to tell because it's mostly the same. Either way, this look stays on his face as the scene thankfully fades out to black.