A gentle wind sends an emptied can of beans rolling over the dull gray dust, kicking up a cloud of sediment in it's wake. The clink it makes as it rolls almost sounds beautiful in a way, like....

A hobo's wind chime.

Yes, yes, I suppose so.

That's what I used to call it.

The shot pans back so we can take in more of the eyesore. It's a stark intermission from the comfort's of Madison's million dollar home. Engy's sitting under a bridge, on a dusty trash strewn incline. Next to him is some sort of large mass concealed by a tarp. Another breeze scatters even more trash, and the hobo's wind chime echoes in the empty space beneath the overpass.

I'm happy ya took my advice and told James Raven to hit the road. You ain't his bitch anymore. Which is good! Cuz now it frees ya up to be mine.

He states this matter of factly, which in a way is even creepier than if he had been frothing at the mouth raging Engy.

I ain't gonna talk about politics Jack. I don't even understand it. I like Uncle Donald and he gives me tax payer monies and he's nice to me and that's all that matters. That's Madison's gig, and if ya'all wanna grab some podiums and have one a them big TV debates go right on ahead. But this is just Engy's time. Engy's time to talk about what matters to Engy.

For a guy who says he hates people, ya sure seem to like makin' a whole buncha excuses for 'em. And ya sure seem pretty understandin' of 'em. Madison would probably say you is a liberal, but you say you ain't and I believe ya. But for all that understandin' you sure don't seem to understand where I'm comin' from. Now I ain't lookin' for no pity party. But ya got a whole lotta things wrong about ol' Engy and I'm gonna correct 'em before I correct that face at Warfare.

A corner of the tarp is picked up a bit by the breeze, teasing us with what's beneath. Engy pulls out a knife and secures the edge of the tarp.

I ain't ready for that yet!

He yells to no one in particular.

Ya keep talkin' about FREEDOM, Jack. Freedom, freedom, freedom. I ain't talkin' about American freedom or that other highfalutin stuff, I'm just talkin' about a man's freedom. MY freedom. And what freedom means for me. Cuz ya see Jack, when I was free, THIS was home.

He holds his arms out, gesturing at his surroundings.

Right here in the laps of luxury! Why, just over there was my bathroom. And that spot up there? My kitchen (I usually boiled rats over an open flame!)! No AC in the summer though. And in the winter? GOD DAMN! It was just me and whatever I could huddle under. One time, I shit you not, my dick froze to the side a my leg! I had to peel that fucker off with a spoon! You ever have to peel your dick offa your thigh with a spoon? It hurts like a muthafucka.

As for food, like I said I had rats or whatever I could scrounge outta garbage cans. Tried to sign up for food stamps at the social services once but ya can't do that when ya can't read and the fat bitch behind the window won't help ya cuz ya look like a serial killer. Never liked places with lotsa people anyway. Don't like people lookin' at me. Don't like the sound a the blood rushin' in their veins neither. Can you hear people's blood Jack? Maybe it's just me. I dunno.

So what was I sayin'? Oh yeah. Shit really sucked for me. Some nights I could feel my stomach eatin' itself. You ever feel that Jack? Or you ever feel when a toe goes numb and then goes hot because ya got the frostbite? Lemme show ya.

He slides off his unlaced boot and pulls off the grimy sock beneath. He holds up his foot, and low and behold, a couple of his toes have been partially amputated. He smells the sock, grimaces, and tosses it over his shoulder.

That's what freedom looked like for me. Well, like that, and like this too.

With a grunt, he pulls the tarp off the mass next to him, revealing a corpse. It's an older man dressed in mud encrusted rags. His features have started going sallow and waxy with the early stages of rot. A roach scuttles out of his mouth as his jaw hangs slack, like a distended rubber band. The camera lilts downwards and we can hear the camera guy start to retch.

Oh JESUS, dude! It's just a dead guy! Come on! Get the, uhhhhh, get the triangle thingie outta the van.....

The shot goes black for a second, and then we return. The camera is stock still now, and focused on Engy and the dead man. Engy talks without looking up as he rifles through the man's pockets.

Old habits are hard to break!

Engy reaches into a breast pocket, and his face lights up!

SCORE!

He pulls out one of those little plastic bottles of vodka they always have at the register at liquor stores. Half it's contents are gone, but that doesn't deter Engy as he unscrews the cap and gives the remainder the old down the hatch. He sits back down and claps the man on the leg in thanks.

Ya had my back, bro! Anyway Wacko Jacko, I found this poor bastard under the bridge here when I rolled up. And I realized that this coulda been me, lyin' here with wasted booze, all alone with no one to even give a shit enough to bury me. And I realized something else Jack.

Engy pulls up the corpse so it's sitting upright. The corpse's face sags in response in a hideous fashion. We see now that part of his scalp appears to have been mauled by some kind of animal, and it flaps a bit as though waving a perverse sort of “hello”. Engy grabs his jaw and starts working it, talking through the corpse.

“I realized that freedom for me kinda looked like death.”

He speaks the line through the corpse in an unsettling sing songy voice. He lets go of the body, and it stays upright.

Ya Jack, thats right. When you keep goin' on about how I ain't free and that Madison has me by the balls...heh. This is what my other option looked like. Not just a fucked up marriage. Not just goin' to court and getting' kicked outta bein' an army man, not just disapprovin' parents. My freedom to fuck up was a little bit more serious than yours!

Cuz if not for Madison, I woulda died underneath this bridge. Cuz I just didn't know no better. Because my brains are broke and I make bad choices and I can't help it!

So when you tell me I'm only livin' half a life, when you tell me I don't got freedom, I would like you to take that concern and shove it SO FAR UP YOUR FUCKING ASS IT SEES DAYLIGHT AGAIN!

Ah! Now there's spittle flying, shaking with spastic murder-rage Engy! Hurray!

GO FUCK YOURSELF! You don't know nothin' about what's good for me! NOTHIN'! Yeah, my life sucks so hard don't it, livin' in a fuckin' MANSION, gettin' whatever I want when I want it on somebody else's dime. And as far as Madison tellin' me what to do, shit son, everybody's got a boss. You tellin' me you didn't have nobody in the army tellin' you who to shoot and when? Only difference between my boss and most people's bosses is that mine tells me to do stuff I'd do anyway: fuck people up as hard as I possibly can.

See, I don't know how you got it in your head that I'm soft. I may be a touch unstable, and I ain't the sharpest knife in the shed, but right now? I'm doin' the only thing I ever really been good at. What makes you think I didn't want this match with you? Because there is no part of poundin' a man's skull till he goes blind and shits his pants that don't appeal to me. I did it all time, look it up on the Youtubes. Except back then I was fighting for a pair a socks and a footlong at Subway and we called em Bum Fights. Now, I could go on and on about the terrible stuff I did to people off camera too, but unlike you the shit I did wasn't 'zactly LEGAL and that's a whole lotta felonies I don't wanna admit to, savvy?

You think I should be afraid a you? You think you some bogeyman? Big snarlin' “take no shit” jarhead motherfucker, huh? 'Cept you keep gettin' your shit pushed in by poncy tea and crumpets types and damn near everybody else on the roster. I ain't a numbers guy, but for some kinda hardass you sure do end up ON YOUR ASS an awful lot. 'Specialize in knockout matches, huh? Seems more like ya specialize in catchin' a snooze under them lights.

The body next to Engy slumps over onto it's side. Engy looks over at him and smiles.

Nighty-night friend. Heh, you know what else Jack? Know the most fucked up thing 'bout all this? You spendin' all that time takin' shots at Madison and my girl Tomi, when from where I stand, the only people who want to run me down are standin' in that ring with me. I mean, if it wasn't Vinnie shittin' on my success, it was the Kings, and now it's YOU. Standin' up and lumpin' yaself in with those other suit and tie wearin' chucklefucks. Tellin' ol Engy that despite fightin' and clawin' my way through that King a the Ring that I ain't earned shit and won't be shit. Fuck that, and fuck you! I EARNED THAT CROWN! I EARNED THAT HAPPINESS! And tellin' me what I earned don't mean shit just 'cuz you ain't done a goddamn thing yaself is a TRULY BITCH MOVE, Jack! I thought you was the kinda guy who would understand a man fighting for somethin', earning somethin' through blood and sweat. But instead your just like those assholes the Kings, wanting to tear me down and shit on my wins just cuz I ain't like the rest a ya. Just cuz I'm a little different. Just cuz I took Madison's help cuz I didn't want to be a pile a rotted bones under a bridge somewheres. Ain't you supposed to stand up against that Mr. Justice Man? But there you is, stompin' on the victim while I get jerked around by a bunch a suits stealin' what's rightfully mine.

Justice my festerin' asshole! Your nothin' but a jealous sadbrain idiot tearin' another man down just 'cuz you can't get the job done yaself. At least Vinnie and the Kings have done shit. You? Not a fuckin' thing.

Engy spits into the dirt, a black job of the same awful bile he spits in people's faces.

My voice is startin' to get hoarse and I think my friend here has started leakin' his inners out his asshole, so I'mma wrap this up. Ol' Engy's gonna tell ya what I really think this is about, why you really got a problem with me. It's 'cuz I chose to be happy, ain't it? It's cuz I chose life instead a endin' up like this poor sap. Yeah, yeah, I still get a touch a the sadbrains myself, not gonna lie. But the fact is I did the toughest thing a man can do. I admitteded that I couldn't do this on my own....that I couldn't do LIFE on my own. I admitteded I was a fuck up. But unlike you, I took somebody's help. I took Madison's help. Madison ain't perfect. She bitches at me sometimes and won't let me drive her car. But she saved my life.

I took a gamble on happiness. And it paid out. And that gets deep down under your skin because you choose every goddamn day to stay sad and angry. And what's it got you? A whole lotta nothin'. Sure as SHIT it ain't gotten you a crown.

But it's ok Jack. It's alright. I got a crown for ya. A crown a pain and agony the likes a which you never did see. The kinda pain that's gonna make ya pray for death. But I won't kill ya Jack, I won't. Just put ya ta sleep a bit. And hopefully, when ya wake up, you'll see that not everythin' I say is .

Say hi to Robbie for me when ya come to.

After putting his shoe back on, Engy gets up, trailing a windswept tail of that dull gray dust in his wake. He takes hold of the tarp from before and drapes it back down over the dead man. Then, he secures the tarp down with some of the largest rocks he can find. With that done, he makes his way up the incline. Waiting on the bridge is a bright red sports car, with Tomi Lahren at the wheel. Engy throws open the door and flops inside.

Hey babe, how'd it go?

Pretty good I guess. There's a dead guy down there.

Oh! Uh, do you think we should tell the police or something?

Yeah, I reckon so. He should get his own hole to dry up in.

Tomi looks indecisively an Engy, perhaps questioning what exactly that meant. Finally, she lets it go and points to the glove box.

Hey, there's two pairs of sunglasses in there. Can you grab the Dolce and Gabana case....

Tomi stops short, realizing her critical error.

Oh shit babe, I'm sorry I forgot you couldn't....

Nonetheless, Engy grabs the correct case and hands it to her. Tomi seems taken aback.

How did you know which one?

Engy shrugs demurely.

I read the case.

Tomi's eyes widen. Her jaw hangs open for a few pregnant moments before she can respond.

Wait....you READ the case?

Well sure babe! What you mean?

Sweetie, how long have you been reading?

Engy looks up at the car's ceiling, trying to call forth an answer.

Huh. That's funny. I ain't sure.

Tomi slowly places the sunglasses case down at her side and pulls out her cell phone.

You know what, I just realized we should probably call in the dead guy now before we leave. Just give me a sec, 'kay?

Sure, sure. Don't be long though. I wanna bail, I hate lookin' at this place.

Tomi nods and rushes out of the car. Closing the door behind her with one hand, she's already tapping the speed dial on her phone with the other. After a couple rings, a familiar voice answers.

It's Bennie, speak.

Dr. Bennie? It's Tomi. Holy shit, he's READING.

.....are you positive?

Well, he read the label on my sunglasses case....

Damn it, he could have just recognized the logo, we need to be SURE!

Tomi's attention is drawn back to the car. Engy hangs out the window, flapping a map in the air.

Hey babe, accordin' to this map we'd make better time takin' Route 26!

Tomi shoots Engy a thumbs up. He returns the thumbs up and ducks back into the car.

Yeah, I'm pretty fuckin' sure.

Incredible! He was functionally illiterate a week ago. Keep me posted!

Absolutely. Blood for the blood God.

Tomi disconnects the call and returns the phone to her purse. Getting back in the car, Engy still has the map unfolded all across the dash. Tomi suddenly leans in and kisses him passionately. When it's over, Engy has a dazed but certainly happy look on his face.

Can I be navigator every time?

Engy, you just navigated yourself into my pants.

Car trips rule.

The scene mercifully fades out on Tomi jumping Engy's bones in the car.