Triple Threat

Two men stand alone, surveying a desert wasteland with only a few scattered hints remaining of the metropolis that once stood there. Their clothes are tattered and flecked with blood, both their own blood and the blood of others. One of the men looks down and sees something he seems to recognise in the charred ground below, ruefully he shakes his head.

MAN 1

Freedom…is just another word for nothing left to lose.

MAN 2

Nice. Deep.

MAN 1

Kris Kristofferson.

MAN 2

Hmm?

MAN 1

Kris Kristofferson said that.

MAN 2

The guy from Blade?

MAN 1

I didn’t know he was in Blade…

MAN 2

It might’ve been Blade 2.

MAN 1

Never saw it. Kris Kristofferson’s in it?

MAN 2

Yeah he’s in it. I didn’t have him as a wordsmith.

MAN 1

He’s a fuckin songwriter!

MAN 2

Kris Kristofferson?

MAN 1

Shit, yeah. Big time.

MAN 2

I did not know that about Kris Kristofferson.

MAN 1

Fuck, man, he’s got heaters. Wrote Me & Bobby McGee, he wrote For The Good Times…uh, Help Me Make It Through The Night….shit, Sunday Morning Coming Down!

MAN 2

Kris Kristofferson?

MAN 1

Kris Kristofferson.

MAN 2

Mercy me. He’s acting, he’s building up a decent resumé as an actor, and he’s writing songs this whole time.

MAN 1

Writing and performing.

MAN 2

Writing and performing! He’s a triple threat.

MAN 1

He is, Kris Kristofferson is a triple threat.

MAN 2

Kris Kristofferson is a triple threat.

Somewhere in the distance a very loud explosion resonates as the scene fades