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turning to page one
...to reveal the bungalow, remote in a wooded area, the lovers' cries spilling into the night... ...and we drift down a wooded path, the sounds of rutting passion growing fainter, mingling now with the night sounds of crickets and hoot owls... ...and we begin to hear FAINT MUSIC in the woods, tinny and incongruous, and still we keep PULLING BACK until... ...a car is revealed. A 1946 Plymouth. Parked in a clearing.