Bottlecap Boy, on the left. The Pull-tab Kid, upper right. Who will draw their guns first?
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We hear shots, we see smoke. It’s Big & Dark vs. Small & Shiny.
Nothing happens. The shots came from somewhere else. The smoke is unexplained, maybe it was dust.
Close-up shots. The Kid is left-handed. Bottlecap Boy isn’t used to that.
Still more close ups. Bottlecap Boy hasn’t shaved for days. Just as well, it hides the scars. Man, he’s ugly.
Why don’t they shoot? Why?
Yes, the music isn’t finished yet. They’re waiting for Ennio Morricone’s crescendo of trumpets.
Bottlecap Boy falls down. Even that takes a long time. Sergio Leone has rewritten the laws of physics just to make this scene.
No, just wounded. He’s still alive, his gun has been shot conveniently out of his hand though.
Increased options for the screen writer. Dead gunslingers just get buried, but wounded ones can live on to spark a thousand flaming schemes of revenge.
The Pull-tab Kid walks up and says something. I can’t make it out. The Boy responds. He’s cursing the Pull-tab Kid’s mother. He calls his father a coyote. But that could be a compliment. No, he’s calling his father a pack of coyotes. More than one. That’s got to be an insult.
The Kid looks away, smiling. No, not smiling, he’s squinting at something in the distance.
The approach of their mutual enemies makes them friends. They mount up and ride off together.
The sound of trumpets, twanging guitar, church bell and wind.