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letra de briefcase boogie - frank zappa

frank zappa (guitar, synclavier)
steve vai (guitar)
ray white (guitar, vocals)
tommy mars (keyboards)
chuck wild (piano)
arthur barrow (b-ss)
scott thunes (b-ss)
jay anderson (string b-ss)
ed mann (percussion)
chad wackerman (drums)
ike willis (vocals)
terry bozzio (vocals)
dale bozzio (vocals)
napoleon murphy brock (vocals)
bob harris (vocals)
johnny “guitar” watson (vocals)

harry: (to thing-fish)
anything you say, master! take me, i’m yours!

rhonda: (broadway-style fake singing)
jingle bells, jingle bells,
jingle all the way!
oh, what fun it is to ride
to chicago every day, oh…

thing-fish:
oooh, lawd! lookit you, boy! chain thoo de nipples ‘n evvy goddam thing! you a sick white m-th-f-cker, ain’tcha?

rhonda:
bells on bob-tail ring,
making spirits bright!
oh, what fun it is to ride
to chicago every night, oh…

harry:
for chrissake, rhonda! have you no shame?

thing-fish:
y’all make up y’mind yet, ’bouts de mammy o’ yo’ dreams?

harry:
you bet! i’ve waited all my life for this moment! my heart is fluttering! if only i could submit myself on approval, for a limited time only… to …to that nasty little rubber mammy on your kne

thing-fish:
sister ob’dewlla ‘x’? de mys’try sister? y’all wants t’party hearty with de min’yature rubber mammy wit de string out de back? yow! dintcha get ’nuff ‘buse fum de other b-tch when y’was livin’ i
card-bo’d hut?

rhonda:
harry… harry… hey! harry! f-cking wor-r-r-mmmmmmmmmm! i want a divorce, harry!

harry:
not now, dearest, please! this is serious! little mammy, what’ll it be? hips or lips?

harry sn-tches sister ob’dewlla ‘x’ away from thing-fish, bashing himself with it in an irrational manner.

rhonda un-zips the santa claus costume, revealing the rubber body suit, hoping for some sign of interest from her deranged husband. there isn’t any… he’s beating the f-ck out of himself and lov
very minute of it.

she squeezes her rubber t-ts, as if to squirt them at him. still no interest.

rhonda:
you’re a wor-r-r-r-mmmmmmm! a f-cking wor-r-r-r-m-m-m-m-mmmmmmmmmmm! these are my t-ts, harry! i have t-ts! look! look at me! look at my wonderful t-ts, you f-cking wor-r-r-r-r-mmmmmmmm! i’m goi
pretend i’m squirting them on you! whoo! wheeeee! almost gotcha!

harry:
not now, rhonda! ow! oof! oh, i love this! hurt me! hurt me! oh, pull my chain, you tiny potato-headed whatchamacallit!

rhonda:
they’re almost squirting, harry! look! look! whoooooo! whooooo! whoooo! you f-cking worm!

thing-fish:
ob’dewlla! is y’awright? don’t be pullin’ de boy’s chain too hard dere! he gots ‘nuthuh show t’do t’morrow! don’t put dat in yo’ mouf, girl! i knows y’cain hep y’seff wit dat crazy m-th-f-cker ‘
‘ you like dat, but jes’ hang on a lil’ longuh… he be droppin’ de wad putty soon now!

rhonda: (pinching her nipples, jiggling her t-ts)
jingle bells, jingle bells…

harry:
oh! this is divine!

rhonda:
this is my p-ssy, harry! look! see it? you know what i’m gonna do with it, you worm? i’m gonna make it f-ck something! that’s right! you won’t get any of it… because you’re disgusting! an’ i do
eed you, mr. first-nighter! my wonderful, wonderful p-ssy doesn’t need you! i have my briefcase, harry! i’m going to f-ck my briefcase! i’m going to… look! look at this! i got it right over her
ere! see it? my big, brown, briefcase! my briefcase! it’s big, harry! it’s full of business papers… from my career!

a tan and brown briefcase, seven feet tall, is lowered in. francesco watches it land near his window. he exits the bungalow with a can of crisco and a violin case. n pantomime, he cautiously int
ts rhonda’s monologue, suggesting that she examine the contents of the case. it contains a strap-on d-ld- of such ridiculous proportions that a chain leading from just behind the head of it must
ooked to a leather dog collar around rhonda’s neck, in order to hold it up. francesco recommends the crisco as a lubricant, daubs on a bit with a miniature doll’s foot, finally indicating that s
nceal her pubic hair with a cardboard box, in the manner preferred by famous singing christians.

rhonda reaches inside the briefcase and locates her ‘special atomic gl-sses’ (with tiny doll arms reaching out through tiny cardboard boxes), and puts them on.

she reaches in again and finds an artificial hamburger with a red ribbon on it. she mounts it on top of her head, tying the ribbon in a neat bow below her chin. ready at last, she humps the brie
vigorously.

rhonda: (contd.)
i’m gonna put my gl-sses on, harry! i’m gonna put my hair up in a bun! then, i’m going f-ck f-ck f-ck! ha-ha-ha-hahhhhh! look! see me? see how i got my hair up? whooo! i’m really doing it! unngh
gh!

harry:
rhonda… have you no shame! keep the briefcase closed, for chrissake! all your doc-ments are falling out!

rhonda: (as over-sized file folders emerge)
unngh! i’m good! oh god i’m good! harder! faster! unngh! unngh! this is terrific! boy, i need it so bad…

harry:
those are the warner brothers files, aren’t they dear? don’t you think there’ll be some questions about the condition of the blue paper?

thing-fish:
girl! bes’ be careful wit de latch!

rhonda: (with the handle in her mouth, semi-intelligible)
i’m sucking the handle now, harry! look! mmmmmm! it tastes good! mmmmmm! mmmmmm! the handle! the handle!

harry:
hurt me, ob’dewlla! make me whimper and beg for your tiny rubber love!

after nibbling on it as if it were a giant piece of corn-on-the-cob, thing-fish hands rhonda an oversized pink fountain pen with her name on the clip.

rhonda:
i’ve got a fountain pen, harry! i’ve got a fountain pen with my initials on it! i’m putting it in my mouth, harry! i’m gonna get it wet! i’m gonna stuff it up my -sshole and ride the briefcase a
you disgusting perverted b-st-rd worm! i’m gonna do it! look, harry! whooo! unngh! unngh! g-d-d-mit, harry! watch me! this is for your own good!

- frank zappa

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