2.
EXT. COW PASTURE - CONTINUOUS The Winnebago comes roaring over a berm and down into a deep gully. Too deep. BAM! The front bumper bottoms out, burying itself. WAAAAAAHI The rear wheels spin air.
The Winnie's door kicks He yanks off his gas
Silence again. underpants man.
The engine cuts off. open and out stumbles mask, lets it drop.
He's forty years old. Receding hairline. A bit pasty. He's not a guy who makes a living working with his hands. He's not a guy we'd pay attention to if we passed him on the street. But right now, at this moment, in this pasture? Right now, we'd step the fuck out of his way. Underpants man looks at the RV. End of the line for that. He listens hard. Out of the silence, we hear.•• SIRENS. They're faint, a few miles off -- but growing louder. Our guy knows he's boned with a capital B. He HOLDS HIS BREATH and leaps back inside the RV. INT. WINNEBAGO - CONTINUOUS A chrome 9mm is clutched in the hand of one of the dead Mexicans. Underpants grabs it, tucks it in his waistband. His unconscious passenger, still strapped in his seat, lets out a groan. Underpants leans past him, yanks open the glove box. He comes up with a WALLET and a tiny Sony CAMCORDER. EXT. COW PASTURE - CONTINUOUS Ducking outside, he starts breathing again. A short sleeve DRESS SHIRT on a hanger dangles from the Winnebago's awning. Underpants pulls it on. He finds a clip-on tie in the pocket, snaps it to his collar. No trousers, unfortunately. He licks his fingers, slicks his hair down with his hands. He's looking almost pulled together now -- at least from the waist-up. All the while, the sirens are getting LOUDER. Underpants figures out how to turn on the camcorder. He twists the little screen around so he can see himself in it. Framing himself waist-up, he takes a moment to gather his thoughts .•• then presses RECORD.
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