Original subtitles

Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen, and here he is, Larry the Dwarf.

Larry likes to put us up funny.

Tonight he's dressed up like Frank Zappa.

Let's ask him, what's the deal?

Hi, Larry. It's good to have you back on our panel.

Hi, Dave. It's really great to be back on your panel.

I'm sure the people at home will be interested to know why such a large

dwarf as you is all dressed up like Frank Zappa. Tell us, Larry, what's the

deal? He made me do it, Dave. He's such a creep. He's making me hold this

Aladdin.

And why is he making you do that, Larry?

He wants me to fuck the girl with the harp.

He wants you to fuck the girl with the harp?

No, no.

With the magic lamp.

He wants me to stuff it up and rub it.

Let's ask our studio

audience. If you'd just been lowered down here on TV by a wire connected to a

brown leather harness, forced by a crazy person to insert a mysterious imported

lamp into the reproductive... into the...

productive orifice of a lady harpist and you were a dwarf?

Would you do it?

Yes!

Let's spin the big wheel, Larry.

Go ahead.

Give it a whirl.

Our studio audience doesn't know is that the reason Larry the dwarf is doing all

this stuff... is because it's all part of the score to 200 motels. Every word,

every action.

The lamp, the reproductive orifice.

It's all in the score, so he has to do it.

This whole event is a fantasy that occurred touring on the road.

Touring can make you crazy, ladies and gentlemen.

That is precisely what 200 motels is all about.

We just came to do

So my mystery roach be rising soon.

Ooh,

ooh,

ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.

My mystery roach, my roach, my mystery roach, my roach.

Till that mystery rose big y'all.

Mr. Mr.

Mr.

What are we singing about?

We must be flipping out.

It's a good thing we get paid to do this. I could be in L.A., getting

reamed, listening to an Elton John album.

Don't even talk about getting reamed. Listen, I've been without female

companionship for so long.

Monday, for instance.

My career as a Jesuit monk sounds inviting.

Ian is starting to look good to me.

Dear Bruce.

Must be his dream voice, sir.

I just calmed down a bit.

Ever since you left the jazz world to seek fame and fortune in the rock and

roll industry. Rock and roll? What do you mean rock and roll? This fucking

band doesn't even play rock and roll. It's all that comedy crap.

You should be careful talking about that stuff.

Why? Does he listen?

He always listens.

He always watches and listens to all the guys in the band.

I've been in the band for years, and I know he always listens.

That's how he gets all his material.

He listens to us being natural, friendly, good-natured,

humorous.

And then he rips us off.

and he sneaks off into a secret room someplace and boils it in ammonia, and

he gets it perverted, and then he brings it back to us at rehearsals and makes us

play it.

Hey, man, what's that over there?

It's him.

It's him. He's watching.

Do you think he heard us? I've been in the band for years.

You can bet that he heard everything.

Yeah, let's go over and pretend to be nice to him. Yeah, let's go over and

pretend we don't know he's watching. Yeah, rip it off our good material.

Hi, man.

Hi, Frank.

Hi, man.

Hi, Frank. Hi, man. Hey, Frank.

That's a great new song you wrote, you know, the one about the penis and

everything. I was laughing a lot the whole time I was learning. Yeah, we were

all laughing, Frank.

Yeah? Well, fine.

Yeah, it took a little while to get into it, man, but once we got the drift...

Yeah, well, it's a great part you got in there for the chorus, you know, when

they go... And I steal the room and everything, you know.

I don't even mind you ripping it off me just as long as I get paid. Oh, and I

don't even mind the part where he says, what can I say about this fabulous

elixir? So long as me and Howard and Jeff Simmons, who left the group just

before the movie started, get credit for special material.

Oh, er... He's making me leave here now.

I'll see you later when we play.

What? I don't expect you to understand that because we haven't formed the group

yet. Ah, Mark will play the bass.

Harry will sing and play sax.

I'll play the guitar.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

This guy isn't even a dwarf.

That's one of the reasons a group will be so commercial.

What about the other guys?

They're already forming groups all over the place. Why wait till the end of the

movie? We could have a hit single right now.

He's right.

We don't need Ainsley.

We don't need Ian. We don't need George. No!

remember we don't need him all those other guys are too old for rock we could

have a tight little heavy little band with this dwarf here you know but he

used to play drums for leon russell listen you're right zappa's 30 yeah

30 years old oh he's out of it man he's too old he should retire really

you can't trust old people you know we should take up a collection and buy him

a watch

in a little

I hear birds.

What's he saying? Special delivery for Mr. Foreman.

Mr. Foreman?

Are you Foreman?

Do you smell something weird?

It's a double cheeseburger from a famous American burger chain with a symbol in

the parking lot that's yellow plastic and goes like this.

France, Mohammed.

France, Mohammed.

France. France, Mohammed.

France.

Rance. Mohamets.

Mohamets. Mohamets. In a steaming briefcase.

You're Vollman.

Yeah. No.

No. He's Vollman. Who are you?

You must call me Rance Mohamets.

Rance Mohamets?

Stupidest name I ever heard of.

You must remember that within the conceptual framework of this filmic

event, Nothing really matters.

It is entirely possible for several subjective realities to coexist.

It is possible that all things are a deception of the senses.

Right on, Rance. The functioning of our senses has been spiritually impaired and

chemically corrupted by the fake artificial food coloring. By the way,

Mr. Foreman, I have your

cheeseburger. We must evolve. Yeah.

We must progress.

Progress. There must be growth. Yeah.

Microbiotic food and tie-dye shirts.

Yeah. Hey, you can eat that cheeseburger, Mark.

Fucking guy will eat anything.

This is registered delivery.

You will have to sign for it. Sure, man, I'll sign. Where's the pencil?

I don't wish to alarm you, my son, but the signature will have to be... in

blood.

Listen, man, I just want to know two things.

Is there any beer in this fake nightclub, and when do we get paid?

Gentlemen, gentlemen, in a moment or two, you'll be able to get your hands on

all the imaginary beer that you want. For the moment, I would like to explain

some of the things that you'll all be doing in this movie.

I've been wondering about that.

For sure. We have a vacuum cleaner scheduled.

A vacuum cleaner?

And... a potential epileptic seizure during a production number later on. A

vacuum cleaner.

I thought the two of you would like to get acquainted.

It says here that you are supposed to be in love.

This abnormal relationship will be great for the big story I'm going to write.

Listen, man, I just want to know one thing. When do we get paid?

Look, look, look, look. Don't you even care what you do?

So long as I get some beer and I get paid, you can make me do anything.

I'm professional.

I'm deeply offended by your lack of artistic sense.

Look here, Mohammeds or whatever the fuck they call you, I don't even give a

shit, man. I got five fucking kids at home and... Can she lend me a couple of

bucks until the end of the week?

Who are you anyway?

Oh, she writes for the imaginary rock and roll newspaper in San Francisco. San

Francisco? You took the mystery burger.

You are in full possession of the burger.

Somebody tell me, who is this guy?

Centerville.

A real nice place to raise your kids.

Centerville. It's really neat.

Churches.

Churches.

And liquor store.

Holy hell, he's just like Glendale.

Look! Over there!

It's a rancid boutique!

Janet, did you see those guys with the hair?

It's those guys from the fake stage across the street from my house.

Ew, I get so excited when somebody from a group gets near me. I just... Ew, I

just... Don't you have any taste?

That one guy's got gray hair and the other one's too fat.

But they look so lonely.

Lonely? Good evening, honey. They look desperate.

Desperate pop stars are so depressing when they've been on the road for such a

long time.

And they finally get some action.

They drool on you.

Really. All that stuff that comes out of their mouth when they're on top of you.

It's so Moshe.

Ew.

Ew on the pillows.

But I like the drummer with the rivets on his clothes. He's not bad.

Yeah, I've seen him, too. He just screams Englishness with that little

haircut and the rings.

And the binoculars.

Binoculars?

Didn't you notice his binoculars?

No, he's got binoculars.

He watches us through them. He's a pervert.

Oh, I get so hot just thinking about perversions. Maybe when we go down to

the fake nightclub tonight, we can meet him and find out if he really is

perverted. Just take my word for it. He is perverted.

Mmm. In English, too.

All that way.

This town,

this town is a sea...

either be dead or

move to San

Francisco where everybody thinks they're heavy

business.

It's just a tuna sandwich from another catering service.

Bitch.

at you.

bastard drink telephone for me some communist bastard and a thump on his

face tell him don't move no more

this shirt, reconnect you.

Yes, Jimmy Carl Black, Indian of the group.

What can I do for you?

Mohanets, what are you doing here?

You just called me, didn't you?

All I said was Opal, you hot little bitch. I'm known by many names.

Got many friends who call you Opal, the hot little bitch. Please, please,

please, Mr.

Black. Let us cut the small talk and get on with your briefing.

Fine, you can brief me all you want as long as you can tell me two things. I

know. When do we get paid?

No, I want to know where is that waitress? Uh-huh, waitress.

If she comes in this place, will she sit on my face and loan me a couple of bucks

until the end of the week?

A couple of bucks.

End of the week, week ending, the week ending. What's that? What's the date?

Uh, Tuesday was the 5th.

Monday was the third. Make that out for Sunday.

Don't say Sunday. What's wrong with Sunday?

It's a Lord's Day.

A day of rest.

Just make that sucker out for the 23rd of March, would you?

Very well, Mr. Blackpool. Oh, by the way, I have here the special beer

I promised you earlier.

Man, it's about time. I've been waiting.

Would you care to sign for it?

This a pencil?

No, Mr. Black, it is a pen.

A pen?

Would you jive yourself in the finger with it? Listen, Mohannes, I may be

professional, but I'm not that professional. I just want my beer.

Seinfeld?

In blood.

Fuck you.

Who do you think you are, the devil or something?

I am known by many names.

You probably got some more weird names for yourself, but I'll tell you one

thing you definitely ain't never gonna be calling. That's the devil, because

you ain't the devil. Oh, I'm not. You bet your sweet ass you're not. The

fucking devil's got an English accent.

I seen him three weeks ago on TV.

So you know you can just take this big needle here and hang it in your ass as

far as I'm concerned.

This fucking guy must have been a communist.

What do you think I need?

My new symphony.

It's all here.

Fantastic.

Yes, I've got them now.

What's next then?

Get on, soldiers.

Get it on.

Those boys, those boys.

They're driving me crazy.

out your super substances.

Oh, let me write that down. Super substances. Yes. I want her.

Show me your little vest.

Excuse me. I want you now.

The girl wants to fix him some broth.

Would you like some broth?

Some nice soup. Some hot broth.

Small dogs in it.

You like broth?

Dog broth.

Debris of the four styles offered.

Debris broth breath.

And the ever popular, hygienic, European version,

tinsel cock.

Tinsel cock.

With...

Do you choose

The girl, in a statement to the

press, explains.

go on tour with a musical group it's possible that any town can seem like

this whether it's large or small or busy or if there's nothing happening in it

the reason for this is quite simple a musician if you consider the normal

pattern of modern civilized life is on the outside of it all he doesn't build

things he doesn't work regular hours like a decent god-fearing citizen

and the life he leads in many ways seems useless and irrelevant to those of us

who prefer a quiet evening in front of the television and a bottle of beer.

Amazing as it might seem to some of us, musicians have basic physical needs,

just like real people.

Many of them study for years, learning to play the violin, for instance, only

to be rewarded with a humdrum job in the fourth row of a symphonic string

section.

That's why the government have constructed, at great expense, this

experimental reorientation facility.

To find a way, perhaps, to retrain these useless old musicians with their brown

fiddles and little horns.

Give them a trade, a reason to exist in a modern world, a chance of a happier,

more productive life.

Some will enter the military.

Some will then shorthand, and some will disappear in the middle of the night on

a special train they're sending in.

It's the only way, really, to bring about the final solution to the

orchestra question.

I'm sure that many of us realize that a pop group can earn a vast amount of

money compared to these other kinds of musicians.

That's why the special government agencies for mass response programming

and psychological stultification prefer to treat them in a more subtle manner.

They know, just as many of you vigilant and thoroughly upstanding citizens have

discovered for yourselves, the power of pop music to corrupt and putrefy the

minds of world youth are virtually limitless.

Painted up her face.

She sat before the moon.

Secrets that she would use if a worthy looking victim should have been.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Back to the back seat!

But Frank upon the wall.

Practice, practice, see.

Half a dozen provocative squats.

Out of the shower, she squeezes her spots.

Brushes her teeth.

Shooses deodorant spray up her twice.

She chooses all the clothes.

She'll wear tonight to dancing.

The praises that she goes.

There's sort of a choice there.

Tension.

going to die.

I know I'm going to die. I can tell because my pulse is so weak.

The pills, I took so many downers that I know this is the end for me.

You poor thing. You want us to fix your hair for you so you look good when they

find you? Oh, would you?

Sure, what do you want? A ponytail?

A flat top of fenders?

I'm gonna die, Janet.

I'm gonna OD.

So make me look good.

Listen, the best I can do for you is fix your hair, so why don't you get up and

wash that melted eye makeup off your face?

Is it smeared?

I've been crying so much.

It's so damn sad when you know you'll never see all your friends anymore.

Well, every week it's the same old thing. You're gonna die. You're gonna

die. Somebody went out on you.

Somebody doesn't love you anymore.

How long you been a groupie? You should get used to romances which are so

obviously cheap.

Listen, just in case you crash out and the imaginary rock and roll newspaper

from San Francisco wants to get any pictures of you, you'll look like you

washed your face.

Really. It's better this way with a clean face.

People think groupies are such dirty girls.

Mine sort of fucking all three of them.

Look, over there. What? He's doing it. He's watching us from the fake bandstand

with the binoculars. Who, the Englishness? The rivet boy.

The rivet boy? Where?

Over there, wipe that stuff out of your eyes. Looks like he's beating off.

Beating off? I knew he was a pervert.

Ew, how exciting.

Hey, are you still trying to OD?

Yes, this definitely is the end for me.

I feel so faint and so weak.

Janet, do you think she's gonna die?

Are you kidding? Did you see her hit the floor?

God, well, it was so obviously cheap. What's the head, honey? I'm gonna die.

This time it's real.

Listen,

Lucy, we gotta get ready for a big dance number. We're going to the fake

nightclub tonight.

Everything's getting dim.

I can't... Why don't you tell her a story while you put your makeup on?

Evening.

Listen,

Toots. I'm going to make up a nice little fairy tale for you. Oh, the pills

and mandrakes. I drank so many of them.

I'll tell you part of the story, and then you make up another part that goes

along with it.

Once upon a time, there was a tall, handsome, muscular... Dwarf.

With a very special... Swedish apparatus.

That him and his friends would use in conjunction with... Bold new surgical

experience.

Involving? A bludgeon and a bottle of champagne.

And a... Microwave oven.

From a... Jumbo jet, one of the big jobs leased from Air Rangoon.

Which, when used correctly... Can effectively increase the dimensions.

And firepower of your... Dick.

To the point where...

In some instances, it should be classified as a lethal weapon.

Hello there.

All the guys in the band are pretending to get ready so they can go out and find

some pussy.

Well, I wonder where the action is in this town.

Every musician likes to find some pussy.

Boy, I could have really scored last night, but every night it's the same

thing.

Ainsley gets there first.

He's so fast.

It must be from playing the drums or something.

I mean, those girls over there only knew my secret identity, but how

could they? How could they know that I am Buona Dick?

Where's my hairdryer?

Got to look lovely for the girls.

After all...

I am born a dick.

Each guy has his own speciality, forgetting the girl of his dreams.

I sprayed my pits.

I put on a new tie-dye T-shirt.

I brushed my teeth.

I cleaned my glasses.

I buffed my nails.

I bought a copy of Downbeat so I could carry it around and look like I knew

what was happening.

I left my shirt unbuttoned at the top.

I just know I'm going to get laid tonight.

I'm not taking any chances.

This little jar of tinsel glitter here, the same brand Danny Hutton puts on his

face. It makes him look all glistening and seductive.

Just put a little on here.

The cheeks, the chin, the quivering lips.

I'm so commercial I could die.

Somebody, turn on a blue spotlight.

It's real cool.

Do you know how to get to the cheesy motel?

Which one is it?

One by the airport.

You like my new car?

Or what?

It's real cool.

Do you know how to get

to the cheesy motel without smashing into the butcher shop?

Which one are you staying at?

Oh, the one by the airport.

Keep it up, Ian!

Ian!

We gotta get up early and fly out of here in the morning, you know?

Yeah, really?

Oh, yeah, really.

Where do you play tomorrow night?

Oh, Tierra del Fuego.

Oh, yeah.

And then there's that barbecue at Mutt's. Oh, you're so professional.

Oh! I mean, the way... Oh!

The way you get to travel to all those exotic places.

Do you really have a hit single in the charts with a bullet?

Listen, honey.

Would I lie to you just to get... in your pants.

You squeeze me baby.

Do you really want to please me? Well, you know what to do, baby. Well, tell me

why you do it.

I really want to know.

No, no, no. I want to be right for me to tell you tonight.

such as yourself back to this plastic hotel room and rip you off for spare

change to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size bulk

purchase cape.

piece medallion and make you assume a series of marginally erotic poses

involving a plastic chair and an old guitar strap while I

did a wee wee in your hair and beat you with a pair of tennis shoes

I got from Jeff Beck.

Mary, did you get any action tonight?

Didn't you used to be with the mothers?

Yeah.

Well, that's what you do now.

I've got my own group, too.

I don't mind being in this movie.

I get a chance to transform a few times, drink these vile foamy liquids.

What

kind

of a life is that?

It's not that bad, really.

I like to be a monster every once in a while.

No one will ever take you seriously after this.

Why? Because I transform?

I like to be a monster.

There's a little monster in every one of us.

You'll probably stay here for the rest of your life with your fake potions and

your twisted monster face.

You could have been something in rock and roll.

I tried to get a hit single.

It drove me to drink.

You could have spread your aura across vast continental areas, your name on

millions of small hot lips whispering under secure pink blankets in the lonely

midnight dark.

But what do you do? You join the Mothers and you end up working for Zappa and he

makes you be a creep.

You could have played the blues with John Mayall or far out exciting jazz

with Blood, Sweat and Tears.

You really think so?

Look. No one will ever take you seriously after this.

How can they take you seriously?

In this business, you're either going to play the blues or sing with a high

voice.

You're right.

I never should have joined the mothers.

Why, I could be a star now.

Oh, when I think of all those millions of hot, pink, juicy little... Hey,

listen, do you know where I can, uh... You got any dope in the cemetery town?

Man, there's no dope in this town.

Just these vile foamy liquids.

Well, they're fake, aren't they?

No, they're real.

I mix them myself at home.

Then I bring them in the morning.

Secret spiritual formulas.

Ooh, what's a secret spiritual formula when it's out?

The stuff that goes in the elixir, or potion, or whatever I mix is irrelevant

to the result.

It's in their fake potions, right?

Look, it doesn't matter what's in the mix.

It's the liquid.

The concept of the liquid is enough to trigger a special cosmic

aware state.

It's because I'm so spiritually evolved.

Oh, listen, I just want to get out of it and go back to me fake motel room and

play the blues, you know. Fuck your spiritual evolvement.

Anyway, what happens if a new and exciting blues talent such as myself

drinks your stuff?

Here, take this back to your fake room.

Drink it.

I'd feel a lot happier if there's something I could smoke.

Well?

Here, dip this in it.

Now, let it dry out.

That ought to get you a little high.

Or something.

Oh, I can't take you seriously.

Look, you might as well take this, too.

I know it's only fake stuff.

Well, listen.

We should get together sometime.

Have a jam.

Play some blues.

Extensions.

Why not some extended blues?

White people can play the blues, you know.

Paul.

Frank.

Yeah, I gave it to him.

Yeah, he went back to the special room.

No, no, he's gonna smoke it.

Yeah, right.

Hey, listen.

You got any idea when we're gonna get paid for this?

worry, do you worry at all?

Hiya, friends.

Now just be honest about it. Did you ever consider the possibility that your

penis, and in the case of many dignified ladies, that these size of the titties

themselves might provide elements of subconscious tension?

Weird, twisted anxieties that could force a human being to have to become a

politician.

a policeman, a Jesuit monk, a

rock and roll guitar player, a wino, you name it. Or in the case

of the ladies, the ones that can't afford a silicone beef up, they become

writers of hot books.

Manuel the gardener placed his burning phallus in her.

Quivering quim. Yes, or they become Carmelite nuns.

Gonzo, the lead guitar player, placed his mutated member in

her slithering slit.

We're racehorse jockeys. There is no reason why you or your loved one should

suffer. Things are bad enough without the size of your organ.

even more misery to the troubles of the world! Right on! Right on!

Now, if you're a lady and you've got munchkin tits, you can console yourself

with this age-old line from primary school.

Anything over a mouthful is wasted!

Yes! And isn't it the truth? And if you're a guy, and one night you're at a

party and you're trying to be cool, I mean...

You aren't even wearing any underwear. You're being so cool.

And somebody hits on you one night, and he looks you up and down, and he says,

uh, eight inches or less.

Well, let me tell you, brothers.

That's the time when you've got to turn around and look that son of a bitch

right between the eyes.

And you've got to tell him these words.

Yo!

Yes, don't you?

A peanut.

Peanut is such an ugly word.

Not that ugly, really.

Sure, I use it all the time.

Sure, sure. We all say it every once in a while. Listen.

Peanut.

It sounds so revolting the way you guys say it. Ew, caca.

Caca.

A penis can be a very useful organ.

Yeah, and very exciting, too, once you get to know me.

It sounds so overwhelmingly medicinal.

A penis sounds like something a doctor would have hanging off of him.

none of the men i know in love in the rock and roll business got penises they

all got cocks or dicks at least sure you want to go strap on a pop star and he

wants to stick a penis up you where is that at let's ask our studio

What's in his pants? He's a lonely guy.

Does anybody care what's in my pants?

I stuffed three pair of socks and a bar of beauty soap down the front of my

pants.

Tonight Will she be

We should get together sometime.

Have a jam.

Play some blues.

Extension.

Work on some extended blues.

White people can play the blues, you know.

Extension.

Extension.

Extension.

Extension.

Work on some extended blues.

Work on some extended blues.

Gave it to him.

Yeah, he went back to the special room.

No, no, he's gonna smoke it.

This stuff is great. It's just as if Donovan himself had appeared on my very

own TV with words of peace, love, and eternal cosmic wisdom.

guiding me on paths of everlasting pseudo-karmic negligence in the very

midst of my drug-induced nocturnal emissions.

I am your good conscience, Jeff. I know all. I see all. I am a cosmic love pulse

matrix becoming a technical interpositive.

Where'd you buy that incense?

It's here.

It's the same mysterious, exotic, oriental fragrance as what the Beatles

get off on.

I thought I recognized it.

Mmm,

what is that, musk?

Jeff,

I know what's good for you. Right.

You're heavy.

Yes, Jeff?

I am your guiding light. Listen to me. Don't rip off the towels, Jeff.

Kiss off, you little nitwit.

Man, what's the deal?

Don't listen to him, Jeff. He's no good. He'll make you do bad things.

You mean he'll make me sin?

Yeah Jeff

I'd

like to have a word with you About your soul.

No, don't listen Jeff Why are you wasting your life night after night

playing this comedy music? You're right. I'm too heavy to be in this group

All I ever get to do is play Zappa's comedy music. He eats.

Jeff, I get so tense. Of course you do, my boy. The stuff he makes me do is

always off the wall. That's why it would be best to leave his turn employed.

And quit the group. You'll make it big. That's right. Of course. And I won't

be...

six weeks ago at a rancid motel in Orlando, Florida, with the highest

mildew rating of any commercial lodging facility within the territorial limits

of the United States, naturally excluding tropical possessions.

It's still damp. What an aroma!

This is the best I ever got off. What can I say about this elixir? Try it on

stage. Queen's Nylons. Small craft warnings. It's great for the home, the

office, on fruits!

This is the real you, Jeff.

Rip off a few more ashtrays. Get rid of some of that inner tension.

Quit the comedy group. Get your own group together.

Jeff has gone out there on that stuff. He should have

never have used the elixir and only stuck to the incense.

Oh, Atlantis.

That was Billy the Mountain dressed up like Donovan fading out on the wall

-mounted TV screen.

Jeff is clipping out. Road fatigue.

We've got to get him back to normal before Zappa finds out.

and steals it and makes him do it in the movie.

You have a brilliant career ahead of you, my boy. Just get out of this group.

Howard, that was Studebaker Hawk dressed up like Jim Ponds, giving career

guidance to the bass player of a rock-oriented comedy group.

Jeff's imagination has gone beyond the fringe of audience comprehension.

Jeff, Jeff, it's me, the fluorescent leaf. Jeff, Jeff, it's me, Kitty.

What can I say about this elixir? Put it on your stains.

to your mother and tell her it's a rich tie-dye.

A big time.

This, as you may have gathered, is the end of the movie.

The entire cast is assembled here at the Centerville Recreational Facility to bid

farewell to you and to express thanks for your attendance at this theater.

this might seem old-fashioned to some of you but i'd like to join in on this song

it's the kind of a sentimental song that you get at the end of a movie it's the

kind of a song that people might sing to let you in the audience know that we

really like you we care about you we understand how hard it is to laugh these

days with all the terrible problems in the world lord have

mercy on the people

These people.

Lord have mercy on the hippies and faggots

and the dykes and the...

we've been passing out tonight we don't want you to be pissed off we don't want

you to leave that forgive him for he knows not what he died stop before we go

on i'd like the other hand maybe he does know my good friend and musical

associate mr howard kalin who's about to give us

Atlantic City, New Jersey