| Hi… Glad you called
|
| Guess what I’m doing right now!
|
| Mmmm… That’s right
|
| I’m walking along Hollywood Boulevard
|
| All I hear are people around me asking each other
|
| «Who's here? |
| Who’s here?»
|
| But… we know there aren’t any stars out here
|
| You know what I’d like right now?
|
| Mmmm… That’s right
|
| Chocolate cake with ice cream
|
| Mmmm…
|
| Palm trees are swaying wildly around us
|
| And the sky…
|
| Grows darker and darker…
|
| People are already on the streets
|
| Some in terror, some in wonderment
|
| Most… confused
|
| You and I…
|
| We watch the funnel clouds hypnotically inch toward the ground
|
| And upon touchdown, turn into atomic mushroom clouds and explode
|
| A few spectators applaud
|
| Scared shitless, we duck into the Spanish Pavilion, but…
|
| It’s remarkably unremarkable
|
| There’s nothing much to do so
|
| We go downstairs where… That’s right
|
| Nude and lingerie-clad girls are having a pose-athon
|
| Guess what I do!
|
| That’s right
|
| I throw caution to the wind and peel off my girdle
|
| And take my place on the red vinyl ottoman
|
| That stands in the middle of the lobby |
| The walls are covered in full-length mirrors
|
| You have to admit the scene is pretty sexy
|
| Then, I think to myself…
|
| «Is it politically correct to even be here?»
|
| I mean, look what happened to Dorothy Stratten
|
| Then I decide…
|
| «Oh, the hell with it, I’m horny!»
|
| Just then, Jeff, the famous balding actor
|
| Famous for his tattooed rebel roles
|
| And loose-fitting Italian suits, walks by
|
| He talks to us about… That’s right
|
| All the toys he buried in his backyard
|
| So no one else would play with them
|
| He says one of his favorites is his Nick Cave Doll
|
| I feel pity for the man, and hope one day
|
| He’ll grow hair
|
| Then… I think…
|
| «Wow! |
| They have Nick Cave Dolls now…
|
| I waaaant ooone!» |