Ricky was trying hard to think of more stereotyped characters to add to the scene, but he was running out of ideas. He already had two Russian mobsters, a sassy black woman, an ignorant trailer park housewife, three truck drivers with those hats, one amoral businessman, and a president of the United States who couldn’t find his ass with both hands tied behind his back. They were tied behind his back because he was tied to a stake awaiting execution by firing squad. The boys in the firing squad were nervous and shaking little white kids commanded by a bald tattooed white supremacist yeller of a sergeant. The Russian mobsters had paid for this ordeal as part of a money laundering scheme involving trailer parks and trucks full of cocaine and crocodile skins. Naturally, the sassy black woman was gumming up the works by talking too much and too loudly but her little sideshow ultimately saved the day because it gave the good guy (in this case a slender brunette weighing about seventy five pounds) just enough time to swoop in on wings of gold steel and swipe away the squad with one giant sweep and carry the president, wooden stake and all, up into the sky along with swells of violins and occasional oboe accompanying the credits which hinted at part three coming two summers from now.