Won Ton On - Frank Zappa

Not really harrys voice:

Ecuas-nzbe?

Thing-fish:

Whiff it, boy!

whiff it good, now!

mammies, step forward n try tgit on down wit

dem broadway zombies!

dis de closin numbuh, now!

moses!

git yo brown ass ovuh

heah!

leave de co-log-nuh alone

Minnit.

whyntcha go on n cornhole ya some evil prince!

I blieve he done evolved

to de point where he kin hannle it now!

See dat?

uh-huh!

look like he severely enjoyin it awready!

sound like he enjoyin it, too!

wuh- oh!

I smells trubba!

look like he got de eeyah- noosht!

aint no two ways about it.

The mammies dance tangos with the zombies, (eventually hurling them offstage),

the evil prince corn-holes rhonda (who doesnt even notice as she waves her

magic-wand fountain pen around for harr

Follow), thing-fish snatches up the crab-grass baby and obdewlla (one in each

hand), shaking them like maracas, while twirl-dancing around the yard,

harry-as- a-boy and the artificial rhonda re Ar, chasing after the infant, quentin robert de nameland corn-holes brown moses.

opal rides the bull while francesco gives her an enema.

the nativity box

rotates erratically, deli- vering dutch

Ts who offer onions to the audience.

Thing-fish:

fo yall departs, I jes wish to say in conclu- sium, as matters o dis gravity

genrally re- quire some type o philosomical post-scription, dat what yall have

witnessed heah tonight were a t Tory — only de names o de potatoes have been changed to protect de innocent.

Galoot co-log-nuh!

dont buy it, peoples!

dis have been a public service

ernouncemint.

wave good-night to de white folks, dewlla!

A conga-line is formed.

they all exit through the audience, except for

francesco, thing-fish &sister obdewlla x (the crab-grass baby has been returned

to harry-as-a-boy and artificial rh Rhonda:

This is symbolism, harry!

Harry:

…not the stuff that freckles lets out!

Rhonda:

This is symbolism!

really deep, intense, thought-provoking broadway symbolism.

really modern, harry…

Harry:

Take your hand off that chain, honey!

Rhonda:

Fuck that briefcases…

Harry:

…not the briefcase…