Briefcase Boogie

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 muthafucker, 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 knee...

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 bitch when y'was livin' in de card-bo'd hut?

Rhonda:
Harry...harry...hey! harry! fucking 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 snatches 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 fuck 
out of himself and loving every minute of it.

She squeezes her rubber tits, as if to squirt them at him. 
still no interest.

Rhonda:
You're a wor-r-r-r-mmmmmmm! a fucking 
wor-r-r-r-m-m-m-m-mmmmmmmmmmm! these are my tits, harry! i 
have tits! look! look at me! look at my wonderful tits, you
 fucking wor-r-r-r-r-mmmmmmmm! i'm going to 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 fucking 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 muthafucker 'busin' you like dat, but jes' hang 
on a lil' longuh...he be droppin' de wad putty soon now!

Rhonda: (pinching her nipples, jiggling her tits)
Jingle bells, jingle bells...

Harry:
Oh! this is divine!

Rhonda:
This is my pussy, harry! look! see it? you know what i'm 
gonna do with it, you worm? i'm gonna make it fuck 
something! that's right! you won't get any of it...because 
you're disgusting! an' i don't need you, mr. first-nighter!
 my wonderful, wonderful pussy doesn't need you! i have my 
briefcase, harry! i'm going to fuck my briefcase! i'm going
 to...look! look at this! i got it right over here! there! 
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 interrupts rhonda's monologue, 
suggesting that she examine the contents of the case. it 
contains a strap-on dildo of such ridiculous proportions 
that a chain leading from just behind the head of it must 
be hooked 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 she conceal 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 glasses' (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 briefcase vigorously.

Rhonda: (contd.)

I'm gonna put my glasses on, harry! i'm gonna put my hair 
up in a bun! then, i'm going fuck fuck fuck! 
ha-ha-ha-hahhhhh! look! see me? see how i got my hair up? 
whooo! i'm really doing it! unngh! unngh!

Harry:
Rhonda...have you no shame! keep the briefcase closed, for 
chrissake! all your documents 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 asshole and 
ride the briefcase again, you disgusting perverted bastard 
worm! i'm gonna do it! look, harry! whooo! unngh! unngh! 
god-damit, harry! watch me! this is for your own good!