BILL (CONT'D)
Beautiful, ain't it?
(Greg nods)
Sonny got a ten-gauge just like it when he was twelve. It matched mine perfectly. Put it right over his bed. He loved it.
DISSOLVE TO:
SONNY'S BROTHER'S HOUSE -- DEN
A hunter's paradise, filled with stuffed animals, marksmanship trophies, and a gun cabinet that even Hemingway would envy.
ON THE CUT, Greg sits at the base of the camera's tripod with Ted behind him. Rigged with mike, Bill continues his on camera interview.
BILL
I was a pro-marksman when I was 11. I wanted him to be that good. And he was. Killed his first sparrow with it...
(beat)
Funny, it's very easy to shoot a sparrow when you're eleven or twelve. When you're much older than that, sometimes shooting a sparrow can make you cry.
REDNECK BAR -- PHOENIX, ARIZONA
Sawdust floor littered with peanut shells. Dartboard, punching bag game; long, natural wood bar. Rowdy cow - girls in skintight jeans. Posters celebrating the Rocky Mountain High, K2 centerfolds... The Marlboro Man.
FRANK WALSH (35)
Sonny'a combat buddy sits at the bar flanked by Greg and Ted. Tall, dark and wirey. A shitkicker in combat fatigues, jump-boots, and pea-green tee-shirt, sporting a black airborne baseball cap on his head, and handlebar mustache on his lip.
Frank rolls a joint as Ted and Greg, their backs to CAMERA, nurse their Buds. At the far end of the bar, against the back wall, the CAMERA CREW sets up their equipment.
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