[A crow flies across the skyline even though it’s past midnight. We pan down to a bonfire where Kevin is also. He moves his hands like it’s supposed to mean something.]
Kevin: I’m in hell!
[We cut to steel fence and the camera glides across it trying to be artistic. We cut back to Kevin who is toasting marshmallows over zealously in the cold air. There is a ring of indigo around the moon.]
Kevin: At least I have fishing tomorrow.
[Kevin pulls a fish hook with a feathery bait out of his pocket. He looks up the sky like he’s reflecting on the feelings deep inside him.]
Kevin: What the fuck is going on?
[Bats screech past his ear, zooming to a sleeping cow to suck it’s blood, their sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight. Kevin pulls a photograph out of his other pocket and stares at it. A girl with pimples covering her entire face like a pepperoni micro-pizza stands eating an ice cream on it.]
Kevin: Sometimes things collapse like a house of cards when you throw knives at them.
[Kevin dug his fingernails in and peeled the photo from the cardboard backing slowly. The moon’s light reflected off his nose.]
Kevin: Dammit! I have to win those damn tag titles! For Bertha!
[We cut to a cow with bat on it’s back. Possible cow mutilation makes the thinning bovine look like a demon. The bat looks at the camera.]