INT. GRANDMA'S HOME – MAIN ENTRANCE/HALLWAY – DAY

JOEL (early 20s, Caucasian, average looks) steps back from hugging his GRANDMA (70s, cute old lady).

JOEL: I've done this before, remember? Survived that long, dangerous freshman year all alone –

The door is wide open behind him. Bright sunshine outside.

GRANDMA: – I know, I know, but I can't stop thinking about you out there –

JOEL: Don't. (points upward) He got me.

He bends down. Grabs a huge duffel bag and a big backpack.

GRANDMA: I know. But you can still kill yourself if you do stupid things.

JOEL: Gotta go, Gram, gang is waiting, and the bus is not.

Packs on both shoulders, he squats again, picks up a coil of purple climbing rope, places it across his neck.

GRANDMA: Yeah, that's what I'm talking about right there...

He steps toward the door but stops. Looks at one of the many photos on the wall. A MAN AND A WOMAN IN COAST GUARD SEARCH AND RESCUE UNIFORMS. In front of the iconic red and white Sikorsky Jayhawk rescue helicopter. They're in their 30s, confident, looking happy.

He studies it almost ceremoniously. Then, mentally, lets go as a taxi pulls up on the street outside.

Walks outside with Grandma standing by the door.

GRANDMA: Make us proud!


INT. HUNTERS' HOME – HALLWAY – DAY

Similar hallway, different (army) photos, different house.

MR. HUNTER (O.S.): Ah, fuck!

Mrs. Hunter (70s, looking old, still never going to stop) shuffles down the hallway.

Rounds a corner to see Mr. Hunter (similar type, only fatter) in the living room, bent over a big cardboard box.

MRS. HUNTER: What is it, what is it?

Mr. Hunter lifts A HAZMAT SUIT in front of him.

MR. HUNTER: The suits, they sent us the wrong sizes. I ordered medium and extra large; they sent us two mediums!

MRS. HUNTER: Shit, that is bad. Well, at least one of us will survive, then.

Mr. Hunter picks up his landline phone.

MR. HUNTER: Very funny. (into phone) Is this Jack's Game & Outfitters? Yeah, I have a complaint...

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