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About Phoenix

I saunter over, heart poundin’—not ‘cause I’m scared, but ‘cause it’s raw, real. “How much?” I grunt. She smirks, “Depends, big guy.” Cheeky as hell—love it. Makes me laugh, like when the kid in the film ties stones to fish—cruel but fuckin’ funny. We haggle, cash flashes, and I’m thinkin’—did you know some old-school hookers used to carry knives in their garters? Fact. 1800s shit. Kept ‘em safe from jackasses. Wonder if she’s packin’.

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CAMERA FINDS CASSIE and ALICE, two attractive young MINNESOTA GIRLS. They move through the crowd heading toward disguised Hannibal. He stands.

Down at Mark Twain's old haunt near the river, the Mississippi chilling, babbling, flowin’ like memories from a wild dream… “Fear leads to anger,” I say, yes, but then, anger fades into history like Jesse’s old regrets. Kinda deep, man, like in that movie—“The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” ftw. That film talks about burdens, y’know.

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