VICK ESTATE, SURRY COUNTY, VA – DAY

Mrs. Julian wanders down the cut-pebble path leading to the barn. Sunshine, her little Pomeranian, is tucked lovingly under her arm.

MRS. JULIAN: Helloooo. I’m here to drop off my little Sunshine.

She steps inside to find a concrete floor with a large table, cabinets and assorted junk. It is not that clean. Michael Vick emerges with a smile.

VICK: Oh, hello, you must be Mrs. Julian. And this little cutie must be Sunshine.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh my gosh! You’re Michael Vick!

VICK: Yes, would you like an autogr…

MRS. JULIAN: You’ve got to be kidding me! This is your place?! I’m not leaving my dog with you. You’re horrible. How could you force innocent dogs to fight each other?

VICK: None of that is true. This is a perfectly respectable kennel.

MRS. JULIAN: Really?

VICK: Of course. The whole thing got blown out of proportion. Now let me have a look at the little guy.

Mrs. Julian looks at her precious Sunshine with concern – he returns the sentiment. But then a smile fills her face and she places the dog on the table.

MRS. JULIAN: Well, I guess you seem nice enough. And you are quite a gifted athlete.

VICK: Thank you.

As Vick moves in, Mrs. Julian notices something.

MRS. JULIAN: Hey, wait a minute! What about that blood soaked carpet over there? That’s a tell tale sign of dog fighting activity.

VICK: No! I mean, yes, it could be, but it’s also an innovative new doggy treat.

MRS. JULIAN: What?

VICK: Yeah, uh, that’s not dog blood. It’s beef juice.

MRS. JULIAN: Really.

VICK: Oh, yeah, they love it. It’s better than a bone any day.

A 300-pound goliath of a man wearing a bloodstained throwback jersey and gold chains enters with a ferocious looking pit-bull in tow. The dog sniffs and claws at the carpet with manic energy.
VICK: See, look at that.

Mrs. Julian looks skeptical. Sunshine looks sick.

MRS. JULIAN: Well, that sounds okay, but that man is also covered in…

VICK: Who, Pee-Wee? He’s the house vet.

The gigantic Pee-Wee grins an ice-grill smile.

MRS. JULIAN: So, you’re licensed then?

PEE-WEE: Oh, most definitely.

Pee-Wee yanks the pit-bull along as Mrs. Julian hastily gathers up Sunshine to leave.

VICK: You wouldn’t judge the man just because of his outward appearance now would you?
MRS. JULIAN: No. No, of course not.

VICK: Good. Now let’s get Sunshine weighed up so we can see what class he’s in.

MRS. JULIAN: What?!

VICK: For his diet, I mean. To see how much nutritious food we will feed him while you are on vacation. That’s all.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh, phew. Well, he just likes to eat a little bit in the mornings, but ooh, he does love a nice…

As this goes on Pee-Wee pushes a large chalkboard across the room. It is marked up with dog names and odds, such as “Ron Mexico Jr. – 3:1”

MRS. JULIAN: Hold on a second!

VICK: What?

MRS. JULIAN: Look at what Pee-Wee has!

PEE-WEE: That’s Dr. Pee-Wee.

Vick holds his hand up to silence him. Pee-Wee shrugs.

VICK: That’s nothing.

MRS. JULIAN: It looks like a list of dogs and their odds of winning fights.

VICK: What?! That’s insane. Listen to yourself. Wow, I think you’re the one with a dog fighting problem.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh, really? What is it for then?

VICK: Obviously, it, uh, well, it…

PEE-WEE: It’s the ratio of tummy-rubs we give for every time a dog cries for his absent mommy.

Mrs. Julian is touched.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh my goodness. Really?

PEE-WEE: Would I lie to you lady?

VICK: Yeah, uh, well, hey Pee-Wee, put little Sunshine here down for, oh, let’s say 50 to 1.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh how sweet. That high?

VICK: Oh sure. I can tell he’s going to be real sad once you’re gone.

Sunshine makes a break for it, but Mrs. Julian catches him.

MRS. JULIAN: Oh, don’t worry sweetie, these nice men are going to take good care of you.

VICK: Sure we will. Just let me get this last form for you to sign and…

Vick opens a cabinet revealing a dog-sized prizefighting championship belt. He slams it quickly.

MRS. JULIAN: What was that?

VICK: Nothing.

Mrs. Julian opens it and grabs the belt.

MRS. JULIAN: This looks like a dog-sized prizefighting championship belt.

VICK: What? Whoever heard of such a thing?

MRS. JULIAN: You do operate a dog-fighting ring!

VICK: Mrs. Julian, that is utterly and completely…

A primped up, bikini-clad poodle sashays in holding a card in her mouth reading, “Round 1”

MRS. JULIAN: That’s it. We are leaving.

Mrs. Julian breaks for the door.

VICK: No, please. This is all a big misunderstanding. What about your vacation?

MRS. JULIAN: I guess Sunshine will just have to come with me. All the way to Korea.

SUNSHINE: Ruh-roh.