[includes quotes from Big Swifty (FZ), Chameleon (Jackson/Mason/Maupin/Hancock), Dust My Broom (Elmore James), Entry Of The Gladiators (Julius Fucik), Billy The Mountain (FZ), Louie Louie (Richard Berry), My Three Sons (DeVol), Blessed Relief (FZ) and It Just Might Be A One-Shot Deal (FZ)]
Narrator:

The adventures of GREGGERY PECCARY!

Greggery:

Oh, here comes GREGGERY,
Little GREGGERY PECCARY
The nocturnal gregarious
Wild swine . . .

Narrator:

A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina

Greggery:

Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!

Narrator:

This particular peccary is part of that bold . . .

Greggery:

Bold . . .

Narrator:

New . . .

Greggery:

New . . .

Narrator:

Breed . . .

Greggery:

Breeding . . .

Narrator:

That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a WIDE TIE directly below the white collar

Greggery:

If it's wide enough
Everyone will know
That the tie I'm wearing
Is a symbol
Of how nimble my mind will know
Ooh-ooh!

Narrator:

(Swank suave!)

Greggery:

Hoon-hoon hoonna-han
Hoonna hoonna

Narrator:

Look out!
Here he comes again!

Greggery:

Oh here comes GREGGERY PECCARY

Yes it's cravy, cravy, yeah . . .

Hoonna-han
Hoonna-han

Narrator:

Every morning, GREGGERY drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the Government Buildings.

Greggery:

Voodn, Voodn!

Boy it's so hard to find a place to park around here!

Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon

Narrator:

GREGGERY PECCARY takes the elevator up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: 'BIG SWIFTY & ASSOCIATES, TREND-MONGERS'.

And what, might you ask, is a TREND MONGER? Well, a TREND MONGER is a person who dreams up a TREND (like 'The Twist' -or 'Flower Power'), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that Science has made available!

And so it was, one fateful morning, GREGGERY PECCARY made his way through the Steno Pool . . .

Greggery:

Hi Mildred!
Hello Gladys!
WANDA!

Narrator:

Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the BIG SWIFTY Steno Pool KNEW . . . here was a nocturnal, gregarious wild swine ON HIS WAY UP . . . a PECCARY of Destiny, Adventure and ROMANCE . . .

Greggery:

Is there any mail for me?

Stenographers:

SWIFTY'S!
THIS IS BIG SWIFTY'S!
AT BIG SWIFTY'S WE ALL KNOW-OW-OW
(WO-WO)
YOU'LL GO
FOR ANY GIMMICK OR GIZMO!

Greggery:

WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE INVOLVED
IN A SERIES OF COLORFUL
TIME-WASTING TRENDS?

Narrator:

AIR HOCKEY . . . biff . . . dush-h-h!

Stenographers:

LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

IS YOUR WIFE SNORING BY THE SINK?

Stenographers:

LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

AIN'T YOUR LIFE BORING, DON'TCHA THINK?

Stenographers:

YOUP YOUP YOUP-YOUP-YOUP YOUP YOUP

Greggery:

LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN THERE'S SOME LITTLE SOMETHING
TO DO!

Narrator:

Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a LIFE for you? Hmmmmm?

Greggery:

I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the WHOLE EARTH CATALOG, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new TREND, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored & miserable people everywhere some great new 'THING' to identify with!

Stenographers:

WE HAVE GOT THE LITTLE ANSWERS
TO THE THINGS
THAT MIGHT BE BOTHERING YOU!

Greggery:

WE HAVE GOT YOUR LITTLE TOYS!

Stenographers:

(WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM!)
BUSY MAKIN' 'EM,
WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM

Greggery:

BUSY MAKIN' EM

Stenographers:

JUST FOR YOU!
Yoo-hoo-hoo!

Greggery:

Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass!

Narrator:

And with that, GREGGERY turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!

With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, GREGGERY ponders the question of ETERNITY (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious ANGELIC VOICES sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new TREND!

Angelic Voices:

SUNDAY

Greggery:

Sunday?
WOW!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY . . . TUESDAY THROUGH
'MONDAY - MONDAY'!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY

Narrator:

And thus THE CALENDAR, in all of its colorful disguises was presented to the bored & miserable people everywhere!

GREGGERY issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it STRENUOUSLY, and WORSHIPPED IT as a WAY OF LIFE, and took their little pills by it, and went back 'n forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long they were even having BIRTHDAY PARTIES IN THE OFFICE by it, because NOW, AT LAST, GREGGERY PECCARY's exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out HOW OLD THEY WERE!

Greggery:

What hath GOD wrought?

Narrator:

Unfortunately, there were some people who simply DID NOT WISH TO KNOW, and that's why, on his way home from the office one night, GREGGERY was attacked by a RAGE OF HUNCHMEN!

Making his way through the evening traffic, GREGGERY notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging 'VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.'

They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something . . . giving strong evidence of HOSTILE AGGRESSION!

To elude them, GREGGERY takes the SHORT FOREST EXIT off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly-painted buses, and motorcycles.

GREGGERY takes a bumpy trail off the main SHORT FOREST ROAD, which leads him up the side of a FAMOUS (and conveniently placed) MOUNTAIN, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a LITTLE TWISTED TREE . . . with eyes on it.

Meanwhile, the enraged HUNCHMEN (and HUNCH-WOMEN) rumble through the SHORT FOREST until (realizing the little swine has escaped), they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-Wagon Train formation . . . and have a LOVE-IN!

Under the influence of a fantastic amount of TRENDY CHEMICAL AMUSEMENT AID, they proceed to perform lewd acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).

Greggery:

WHAT?

Narrator:

The HUNCHMEN finally expire from exhaustion, and GREGGERY, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief . . .

Greggery:

Phew!

Narrator:

Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter . . .

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!

Greggery:

Good Lord! What was that?

Narrator:

GREGGERY doesn't realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

BILLY THE MOUNTAIN!

Billy:

HO! HO! HO!

Narrator:

And, as you all know, whenever BILLY laughs, rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust, forming a series of huge BROWN CLOUDS!

Greggery:

WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
BETTER ASK A PHILOSTOPHER 'N SEE WHAT HE SAYS!

Narrator:

GREGGERY stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call . . .

Greggery:

IS THIS THE OLD LOFT
WITH THE PAINT PEELIN' OFF IT
BY THE CHINESE POLICE
WHERE THE DOGS ROLL BY?

IS THIS WHERE THEY KEEP
THE PHILOSTOPHERS NOW,
WITH THE RUGS & THE DUST,
WHERE THE BOOKS GO TO DIE?

HOW MANY YEZ GOT?
SAY YEZ GOT QUITE A FEW,
JUST SITTIN' AROUND THERE
WITH NOTHIN' TO DO?

WELL I JUST CALLED YEZ UP
'CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE
A PHILOSTOPHER BE
OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!

Narrator:

GREGGERY receives information that 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind' is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be HIS, if only GREGGERY would attend a 'SPECIAL THERAPEUTIC GROUP ASSEMBLY' (Classes now forming), and available at a special low low introductory fee . . . and now, here he is, 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind', QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND! Take it away!

Quentin:

Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, TIME IS OF AFFLICTION! Now this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you, as, from a certain experience, I TEND TO PROCLAIM: 'THE EONS ARE CLOSING'!

Narrator:

Make your checks payable to 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!

Greggery:

WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
IF YOU ASK A PHILOSTOPHER, HE'LL SEE
THAT YOU PAYS!