Two people: a man and a woman.

And a pair of binoculars.

And there is a bush.

She tells him to wait.

He replies, fuck that.

She tells him that it is an order.

And his answer is constant – fuck that.

She is finally so irritated that she warns him with castration.

"Fuck that" does not reappear.


There is a man, and a woman.

The three stooges, minus one.

Neither lovers nor friends, family or relatives, they are simply man and woman.

Who hate each others guts.

The three stooges, minus one.

(Robbed a bank and ran into a restaurant frequented by cops.)

Orders from a telephone, orders with no face.

"This is a Fish Called Wanda," the woman snarls at one point, irritated with the man.

"Yeah," he says, "but I'm not your brother."

She mutters thank God and he pretends he doesn't hear it.


A man, and a woman.

Five hours behind the bush and the man has to piss.

The woman glances at him, contempt full-flung in her face.

"Shouldn't be so hard for you to do," she says, "unless..."

He runs his full-bladder ass to another bush and takes care of business before she can go further insulting him.

The woman raises the binoculars back to her brown eyes and smiles.


A man, and a woman.

Waiting, yet again.

And now they don't quite hate each other as much as they originally did.

Six hours behind a bush, eaten alive by gnats and muscle cramps can do that to you.

So then he finally asks her, "why are you here?"

And she pauses for a long moment.

"I don't know."


A man, but no woman.

(Taking care of business, she tells him, eyes flashing in warning.)

He does not ask where she has gone.

He rubs absently at a calf muscle but freezes when he passes over that dime-sized scar-thing near his knee cap.

The man promptly sits on his ass and stretches out his legs to he doesn't have to worry as much about the cramping.


A man and a woman, yet again.

The woman is yawning incessantly, and it takes all of the man's control not to join in with her.

He thinks yawning is an airborne virus.

She glances over at him. "Did you say something?"

He didn't think he said anything aloud.

"Yes," the woman says, staring at him now. "You did."

"Shit." The man mutters.


Dawn is coming up, and there is still a man and a woman.

A bush.

And a pair of binoculars.

...the man is trying to convince the woman to play Hangman with him.

She purses her lips.

"Isn't this enough?"

"One vowel," he pleads. "Please...I'm so bored right now."

"A." She says, reluctantly.

"Nope." He responds.

"U." She says, louder now.

"Nada".

"I – "she begins, and then they hear the gunshot and the slam of a door.

"Bingo," the man says.


There is sunrise, a man and a woman, binoculars, a bush, a camera, and five dead bodies.

The man and woman do not know where the bodies came from.

"Shit," the man says.

"Fuck," the woman replies.

However, the wad of cash is very thick.

So when the man pulls up the camera, it just "click click clicks."


There is a diner, a man and a woman, and photographs of five dead bodies.

"I can't feel my ass," the woman says, wincing at the pain caused by her bush stake-out.

"I can't feel my legs," the man retorts

They pause. Both agree that their pain is mutual..

The man clears his throat. "Who called?"

She looks up at him.

"We have another job," the woman says.


There is a man, a woman, and a pair of binoculars.

The cycle begins, yet again.