And now we bring you interpellation...

All of a sudden, she starts screaming at the top of her lungs...''Oh, God! Oh, God! Don't stop! Make Ginger pop!''

Oh, shit, really?

But we did dance. We danced our asses off. Willard, how could you let our new student eat this food?

- Don't eat this.
- We have delicious homemade food.

- Come on over.
- It's so good. Come on, Willard.

Oh, chicken!

Come on, come on. Good boy. Bring your friend.

- You won't get any of that here.
- What's that?

- Dancing. There's no dancing.
- That's right.

- Why?
- It's illegal.

Jump back!

It's true.

- Has been for five or six years.
- Why?

Go ahead, tell him.

It started when kids got killed in a car wreck. Whole town went bananas, blaming it on the music, liquor and dancing. Now they're just convinced it's all a sin.

Who's convinced?

Whole damn town.

You really can't dance here, man? I can't believe that.

It's true. This isn't the only place either. You'd be surprised. Places upstate you can't dance. Places in Kansas and Arkansas. All over the place.

My cousin lives in Montana, and ya can't dance where she lives either.

Yeah? She ever get busted for bopping?

I don't know. I never asked her.

You rich?

No. Why?

'Cause I don't think I ever bought a tape before.

Get serious! This place is too weird.

Don't you ever listen to the radio?

No. We got one radio at home, but it's never on.

- You like Men at Work?
- Which men?

- Men at Work.
- Where do they work?

- They're a music group.
- What do they call themselves?

- Oh, no. What about the Police?
- What about 'em?

- Have you heard them?
- No, but I seen 'em.

- In concert?
- No, behind you.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home