In dusty, amber Mexico, a truck drives down a dirt road carrying bales of hay in its bed. Only the bales are hollowed out, and inside are Mexicans looking to make it across the border. Inside are the Cousins, one especially chatty fresh-faced hermano, and a bunch of unfortunate extras. Chatty Cathy goes on and on, about Texas, about the job he's got waiting for him, about why people call him "Olive Oil." Nobody inside the truck is remotely interested, least of all the Cousins, but they're all humoring him. Until Chatty looks down and admires those boots of theirs. The ones with the silver skulls at the tip. He immediately shuts up and sits up straight, as the Cousins look at each other. Cut to the exterior of the truck as shots pop out. A couple at first, then a lot more.
The driver pulls over, and of course he's an old coot who's all "What the hell?" and runs around to the back. A few more gunshots and the geezer gets to running. The Cousins emerge and gun down the old man as he runs down the single road. One shot. Cousin goes to light a cig while Cousine notices the geezer ain't quite dead yet. In fact, he's getting up to make another run for it. Hey, Bob Duvall, see how the road stretches out into infinity in front of you? That means play dead, fool! So Cousine pursues him down the road and makes sure he's all dead. And with that, the Cousins earn the Coen Bros. Daily Double, echoing both No Country for Old Men (by being silent, dogged badasses on the hunt) and now Fargo.
At the truck, Cousin shoots a hole in the gas tank, and as gas pours out, he hands Cousine a cigarette. They light up, take a puff, and then toss the burning smoke onto the wet brush. They both begin walking down the road as the gas ignites and the flames creep towards the car. And with the Cousins now walking directly towards the camera, the truck explodes in a giant fireball. And the Cousins just keep looking right at us. Making them official Cool Guys. Cool guys headed for Walt.
Joe R went to Catholic school for twelve years and still never saw anything as intense as that crawling business. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at firstname.lastname@example.org.