GK: This portion of our show brought to you by Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie and frozen pie filling.
You come home late one night (FOOTSTEPS) and there's nothing on TV (TV AUDIO) and nothing on the radio (TUNE DIAL, STATIC, BITS OF VOICES) and there's nobody to talk to (CAT MEOW) except your cat Snowball and so you go surfing around on the Internet, (MOUSE CLICKING, TYPING) and you decide to download some music. (MODEM BEEPING, HARD DRIVE WHIRRING) Some old-timey fiddle music (FIDDLE TUNE) by Bobbie Ray Pickens and His Chicken Pluckers and you download a couple tunes, "Pigs In The Corn" and "The Preacher's Farewell" and suddenly you hear an odd sound (HAWK, SPIT) and there's a man standing behind you ---- (TR: Hey boy) a man in coveralls with eyebrows big as barn swallows and holding a shotgun ---- (TR: You stealin my music offa the Internet? Huh, boy?) and you try to explain (TK STUTTERING) and he is really upset (TR: I'm gonna teach you never never to mess with Bobbie Ray Pickens, boy!) and the gun goes off (GUNSHOT) and you press Control-I-Escape and (ELECTRONIC PIZZ) suddenly you're in cyberspace, (WIND) and you're at a news site (TR NEWS VOICE GIBBERISH) and you click on a hyperlink (BEEPS) and now you're in the Deutsche Weltanschaung Anschluss-dot-com (TR GERMAN) and you click again and you're at a travel website (JET AIRPLANE) and you click on Antigua and CRASHING SURF) TR: "Hey, mon") and you're just about to click on Hotels when (TR: "There's the varmint!" GUNSHOTS, COON HOUND BAYING, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) and he chases you across the beach (PANIC, RUNNING) and you jump at the first hyperlink you see and you go to a website about the British royal family (TR QUEEN: Welcome to our website. We are most pleased that you-----) and you click on History (HORSE WHINNY, OFFICERS COMMANDS, ARTILLERY) and from there you go to Geneology (BAGPIPE) and you're back in the 17th Century and how can they find you here? Well, they do (COON DOG) (TR: "Thar he is!" GUNSHOTS, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) And that Bobbie Ray comes chasing you across the lawn at Windsor Castle (DOG BAYING) and now you latch on to a passing e-mail (WHIZ) which drops you in a spam folder. (REVERB, CRY FOR HELP) You rummage around in all of this electronic junk mail, (JUNK) looking for a link, any link that you can use to get out of here. There's pop-up ads (HEY!) and more pop-up ads (WHOOPEE) and porno material (HEAVY SIGHING) and then you get an Instant Message on the screen:
TR: Hi, it's me, Bobbie Ray Pickens. Feel that hot breath on your neck? It's my dog. Tanker. (PANTING) And feel that cold steel between your shoulder blades? Guess what.
(THEME) Wouldn't this be a good time for a slice of rhubarb pie? Nothing gets the taste of shame and humiliation out of your mouth like Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
But one little thing can revive a guy,
And that is home-made rhubarb pie.
Serve it up, nice and hot.
Maybe things aren't as bad as you thought.
DUET:
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.