Casually criminal twentysomething running buddies Cowboy and Cowgirl are on the road, and Cowgirl is jonesing for her fix...of beef.

(Warning: Using this scene without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)

(A deserted road on the outskirts of a not-quite-apocalyptic suburbia. Just before 5:00 PM in the not-so-distant future. COWGIRL, twentysomething and the Bonnie half of a Bonnie and Clyde team, holds a syringe. Her hands shake. COWBOY, about her age, has a backpack at his feet.)

COWGIRL: I can't do it. My hands are shakin' too bad.

COWBOY: I got you, baby.

(Cowboy puts his hands on hers to steady them.)

COWGIRL: You'll miss the vein.

COWBOY: I'll be careful.

COWGIRL: Don't miss the vein. I'll bleed.

COWBOY: You won't bleed if I miss the vein.

COWGIRL: You'll hit something else. (Beat.) Come on!

COWBOY: You said don't help you.

COWGIRL: Can't you see I'm shakin'?

COWBOY: You want me to help you or not?

COWGIRL: Just find the vein!

(Cowboy grabs the syringe.)

COWBOY: Hold still.

COWGIRL: I wouldn't need the hit if I wasn't shakin'.

COWBOY: Hold your breath.

COWGIRL: What the hell's that gonna do?! [What's that gonna do?!]

COWBOY: Maybe your heart'd stop. You'd die for a second. Then you wouldn't move so much.

COWGIRL: Psycho!

(She holds her breath. He injects her. She exhales and relaxes.)

That's why I love you, Cowboy. What'd you get me?

COWBOY: Lamb.

COWGIRL: Tastes like chicken.

COWBOY: It doesn't taste like anything.

COWGIRL: I can too taste it, and it tastes like chicken.

COWBOY: Everything tastes like chicken to you.

COWGIRL: I know what beef tastes like.

COWBOY: (Beat.) How long's this gonna hold you?

COWGIRL: Couple hours.

COWBOY: That's all?

COWGIRL: Were you standing there when he puréed this stuff? Feels like it's cut with chicken bouillon.

COWBOY: I can't watch the guy every second.

COWGIRL: Next time, bring the animal. I'll do it myself.

COWBOY: We can't lug the damn lamb around with us. It's not like we've got a car.

COWGIRL: So let it walk.

COWBOY: Before or after we kill it and slice it up?

COWGIRL: Take up less room if it's sliced.

COWBOY: And go bad.

COWGIRL: I feel like clucking.

(Cowboy picks up his backpack.)

COWBOY: A lamb will not fit in this pack.

COWGIRL: I know.

(Cowboy pulls out a small insulated bag and holds up a vial from inside it.)

COWBOY: What's in these vials, that's high test. And it stores easy.

COWGIRL: And it tastes like chicken. I don't feel so good.

(He hugs her, trying to console her.)

COWBOY: I know.

COWGIRL: I need a cow.

COWBOY: I know.

COWGIRL: I know I'm weak.

COWBOY: It's not your fault.

COWGIRL: I can't stop.

COWBOY: You gotta get your mind off it.

COWGIRL: I see a hamburger.

COWBOY: Where?

COWGIRL: (Pointing in the air not far away:) There.

COWBOY: Where?

COWGIRL: By the tree. In the bun. Can't you see it?

COWBOY: Is it very small?

COWGIRL: It's ten feet tall.

COWBOY: It's not there.

COWGIRL: I know, but it's dripping fat, and it's sizzling. It's on a sesame bun, and you can just see some onion sticking out. There's a dab of ketchup on the onion. Maybe it popped out from under the bun. It's winking at me.

COWBOY: The onion?

COWGIRL: The burger. The bun keeps opening and closing.

COWBOY: There's no burger.

COWGIRL: I know, but it looks so good.

COWBOY: Where is it?

COWGIRL: (Pointing:) There.

(Cowboy walks toward the imaginary burger.)

COWBOY: Am I there yet?

COWGIRL: It moved. It moved out of the way.

COWBOY: Where is it now?

COWGIRL: (Pointing again to a different spot:) There.

COWBOY: Tell me when I get there.

(Cowboy moves toward the burger's new "location.")

COWGIRL: It moved again.

COWBOY: Now where is it?

COWGIRL: I don't think you should chase it anymore. The bun looks angry.

COWBOY: It's in your head, baby.

COWGIRL: I know, but it's shaking from side to side. Don't make it mad.

COWBOY: You shoulda gone vegetarian.

COWGIRL: I love vegetables.

COWBOY: On your burger.

COWGIRL: (To the imaginary burger:) Please, just give me a little bite. A little taste. Drip fat on my tongue.

COWBOY: You know what saved me?

COWGIRL: (To the burger:) One little drop.

COWBOY: Fish. Used to raise 'em in a pond before I met you.

COWGIRL: (To the burger:) I love you. I need you.

COWBOY: Salmon, sometimes in burger form, sometimes as a filet. Kept me off the beef. I could go for a good piece of salmon.

COWGIRL: (To the burger:) Where are you going?!

COWBOY: It's about family values when you think about it.

COWGIRL: (To the burger:) Don't leave me!

(Beat.)

It didn't even drip anything on the ground for me to lick up.