200 Motels Page #2

the whole time I was learnin' it!

Yeah, we were all laughin', Frank!

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha YEAH, WELL FINE!

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

Yeah, there's lots of great parts you've got in

there for the chorus, you know when they go:

RAN-TAN-RAN-TOON-RAN-TAN-TAN . . .

And I steal the room and everything, you know. I don't even mind you rippin' it off from 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! Ha-ha-ha!

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

Look here, Muhammitz, or whatever the f*** they call ya, I don't even give a sh*t man, I got five f***in' kids at home

and . . . can you lend me a coupla 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?

Man!

Oh! Eh, 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 uh,

we haven't formed the group yet.

Ah, Mark will play the bass . . .

Ba-doom-doom-doom-doom . . .

Howie will sing and play sax . . .

Dwee-dat-dwee-dat-dweet-dat-dwee-dat . . .

I'll play the guitar . . . woop-doo-doo-doo . . .

and the dwarf here will play drums!

Waittaminit, waittaminit, waittaminit, waittaminit, waittaminit! This guy isn't even a dwarf!

That's one of the reasons the group will be

so commercial!

Ah. What about the other guys?

Ah, 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, he's right! We don't need Aynsley . . .

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

No . . . We don't need George!

No! We don't need anybody! Argh!

No!

He needs us, remember. We don't need him! All those other guys are too old for rock. They're out of it! We could

have a tight little heavy little band with this dwarf here. You know, that he, he used to play drums for Leon Russell . . .

Ohh . . .

Listen, you're right. Zappa's 30.

Yeah, man.

Ohh . . . whew . . .

Thirty years old . . .

Oh, he's out of it man! He's too old, he should retire.

Yeah, really. You can't trust old people. You know, we should take up a collection and buy him a watch.

I don't know too much about this stuff

I've been a little busy

This won't take long

Just a few questions

This won't take long

Just a few questions

This won't take long

Just a few questions

Just a few questions

This . . . won't . . . take . . . long . . .

This . . . won't . . . take . . . long . . .

This . . . won't . . . take . . . long . . .

This . . . won't . . . take . . . long . . .

I hear birds!

What's he saying?

You took the mystery burger! You are in full posession of

. . . the burger! Do you know who I am? Hm? Do you know

Who I really am?

Really man! WHO . . . DO YOU THINK . . . YOU ARE?

Yeah, do you want me to tell you WHO . . .

I really think you are?

Yeah, somebody tell me WHO is this guy?

Centerville

A real nice place to raise your kids up

Centerville

It's really neat!

Churches

Churches

And liquor stores

Oh, yeah! It'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 our house.

Eww, I get so excited when someone from a

group gets near me. I just . . . eww, I just . . .

Don't you have any taste? That one guy's

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

Oh, 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 moche. 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. And English, too.

They're all that way.

This town

This town

Is a Sealed

Tuna Sandwich

Sealed Tuna Sandwich

With the wrapper glued

(WITH THE WRAPPER GLUED!)

It's by baloney on the rack

Rant-tant-tant

Tant-tant-tant

Tant-tant-tant

It goes for 40 cents a whack

It's just a rancid little snack

In a plastic bag

From a matron in La Habra with

a blown-out crack

WHO DIES TO SUCK THE FRINGE OFF

OF JIMMY CARL BLACK!

My name is Burtram

I am a redneck

All my friends,

They call me 'Burt'

(Hi, Burt!)

All my family,

From down in Texas

Make their livin'

Diggin' dirt

Come out here to Californy,

Just to find me

Some pretty girls

Ones I seen

Gets me so horny;

Ruby lips,

'N teeth like pearls!

Wanna love 'em all!

Wanna love 'em dearly!

Wanna pretty girl--

I'll even pay!

I'll buy 'em furs!

I'll buy 'em jewelry!

I know they like me;

Here's what I say:

I'm lonesome Cowboy Burt!

(Speakin' atcha!)

Come smell my fringe-y shirt!

(Reekin' atcha!)

My cowboy pants,

My cowboy dance,

My bold advance,

On this here waitress . . .

Yodel-oh-oo-pee-hey

Yodel-oh-oo-pee!

(He's lonesome Cowboy Burt

Don'tcha get his feelings hurt)

Come on in this place,

'N I'll buy you a taste,

You can sit on my face--

Where's my waitress?

Burtram, Burtram redneck

Burtram, Burtram redneck

I'm an awful nice guy!

Sweat all day in the sun!

Roofer by trade,

Quite a bundle I've made,

I'm unionized roofin' old

Son-of-a-gun!

(He's a unionized roofin' old

Son-of-a-gun!)

When I get off, I get plastered

Drink till I fall onna floor,

Find me some Communist bastard,

'N stomp on his face till he don't

Move no more!

(He stomps on his face till he don't

Move no more!)

I fuss, an' I cuss an' I keep on drinkin',

Till my eyes puff up an' turn red!

I drool on m'shirt,

I see if he's hurt,

Kick him again in the head, yes!

Kick him again in the head, boys!

Kick him again in the head, now!

KICK HIM AGAIN IN THE HEAD!

Lonesome Cowboy Burt!

(Speakin' atcha!)

Come smell my fringe-y shirt!

(Reekin' atcha!)

My cowboy pants,

My cowboy dance,

My bold advance,

On this here waitress . . .

Yodel-oh-oo-pee-yeh

Yodel-oh-oo-pee!

(HE'S LONESOME COWBOY BURT,

A--don'tcha get his feelin's hurt)

Yeah . . . but come on in this place,

An' I'll buy you a taste,

'N you can sit on my face--

Where's my waitress?

OPAL, YOU HOT LITTLE B*TCH!

Yes, Jimmy Carl Black, Indian of the Group,

what can I do for you?

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