Wow, what a night.
Mr. Mayor, did you
get any action tonight?
Didn't you used to be with the mothers?
Yeah.
Well, that's what you do now.
I've got my own group, too.
I don't mind being in this movie.
I get a chance to transform a few times...
and drink these vile, foamy liquids.
Eugh!
What kind of a life is that?
It's not that bad, really.
I like to be a monster
every once in a while.
No one will ever take
you seriously after this.
Why, because I transform?
I like to be a monster.
There's a little monster in every one
of us.
You'll probably stay
here for the rest of your life...
with your fake potions
and your twisted monster face.
You could have been something
in rock and roll.
I tried to get a hit single.
It drove me to drink. Oh! Go on,
laugh about it.
You could have been a star.
You could have spread your aura
across vast continental areas,
your name on millions of small,
hot lips,
whispering un der secure pink blankets
in the lonely midnight dark.
But what do you do?
You join the Mothers,
and you end up working for Zapper,
and he makes you be a creep.
You could have played the blues
with John Mayall,
or far -out exciting jazz
with Blood, Sweat and Tears.
You really think so?
Look, no one will ever take
you seriously after this.
How can they take you seriously?
In this business,
you're either gonna play the blues
or sing with a high voice.
You're right.
I never should have joined them others.
Why, I could be a star now.
Oh, when I think of all those millions
of hot, pink, juicy little...
Hey, listen, do know where I can
get any dope
in this imaginary town?
Man, there's no dope in
this town.
Just these vile foamy liquids.
Well, they're fake, aren't they?
No, they're real.
I mix them myself at home.
Then I bring them in the morning.
Secret spiritual formulas.
Ooh, what's a secret spiritual
formula when it's out?
The stuff that goes in the elixir,
or potion,
or whatever I mix is irrelevant to
the result.
You mean they're fake potions, right?
Look, it doesn't matter
what's in the mix.
It's the liquid.
The concept of the liquid
is enough to trigger a special cosmic
-aware state.
It's because I'm so spiritually evolved.
Oh, listen, I just want to get out
of it
and go back to me fake motel room
and play the blues, you know.
Fuck your spiritual involvement.
Anyway, what happens if a new
and exciting blues talent
such as meself drinks your stuff?
Here, take this back to your fake room.
Drink it.
I'd feel a lot happier
if there's something I could smoke.
Well, here, dip this in it.
Now, let it dry out.
That ought to get you a little
high or something.
Ooh, I can't take you seriously.
Look, you might as well take this, too.
I know it's only fake stuff.
So listen,
we should get together sometime.
Have a jam.
Hey, play some blues.
Extensions.
Why not some extended blueses?
White people can play the blues, you
know.
Oh, Frank, yeah,
I gave it to him.
Yeah, I went back to the special room.
No, no, he's gonna smoke it.
Yeah, right.
Hey, listen.
You got any idea
when we're gonna get paid for this?
Peace.