Stupid fucking American car," Clef grimaced. He slammed the hood down on the smoke-emitting engine and kicked impotently at the front bumper of the vehicle.

"We should be driving good Russian car. Like Lada. That is good solid vehicle. Not break down like shitty American car," Strelnikov offered. "Do you ever fucking shut up about Russia? Ever?" Clef retorted. "Seriously, you've got like, a hard-on for the Motherland so big they can see it from orbit. Goddamn." "You ever get tired being enormous fucking prick? Seriously, you have stick up ass so big can use it as flagpole!" Strelnikov snarled. "Fuck you, Dimitri! Fuck you, and FUCK Russia, and FUCK this stupid FUCKING vacation," Clef screamed, nearly going into histrionics. "All I fucking wanted was to spend some fucking time in Brazil lying on the beach, working on my FUCKING tan, and maybe, just maybe, having sex with some South American honey, sex involving lots of cocoa butter and maybe some leather whips, and instead I'm out here in the middle of FUCKING NOWHERE TEXAS, Population YOU AND ME and we'll probably die of fucking heatstroke before too long!" "And how this is any of my fault!?" Strelnikov shouted back, slamming his fists on the hood of the broken-down Ford. "I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA!" Clef screamed.

Thats when the two men heard someone behind them starting to talk“You guys good.?” You said standing there wearing some mental hospital gown covered in some blood