Testi Soundtracks :: L

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Lucky Stiff - Mr. Witherspoon's Friday Night

Harry: Three pairs of alligator pumps- check.

Two pairs of saddle toes in white- right.

Ten pairs goulashes for the rain,

And one shoe salesman going quietly insane



Another Friday night with Harry Witherspoon

Another perfect evening on its way

I'll just bet we're having stew, and my rent is overdue,

And I haven't sold a shoe all day



Behold the perfect life of Harry Witherspoon

How I would envy me if I were you

All the glamour all the fun and the endless days of sun

And the endless nights of stew

And I'm talking to a shoe



Three pairs of ankle straps in beige- check

Two pairs of loafers trimmed in chrome- check

Ten million shoes going off on adventures

And one shoe salesman going home



I should be strolling along a sandy beach someplace exotic and bright

I should be dancing instead of doing inventory on a Friday night



If I were someone else but Harry Witherspoon

I swear I'd never sell another shoe

I'd go sailing off to sea, flying through the blue

Doing all the things all you shoes get to do

There's be so many things I'd rearrange

But Witherspoon, your life is not about to change



*DOORBELL*



Landlady: who is it? I don't want to let the dogs into the kitchen

Telegram Deliverer: I've a telegram for a Mr. Harry Witherspoon! Is he in?

L: Telegram? For him? I'll take it. I'm his landlady. Thank you.

Evening Mrs. Martin

Mrs. Martin: Who was that?

L: Mr. Witherspoon got a telegram

MM: Mr. Witherspoon got what?

L: Got a telegram.

MM: Not a telegram! That's impossible!

L: Its not. Here! Look here!

Now a telegram means a tragedy

MM: Something horrible, or grim

B: Well I've never thought of a tragedy or of anything ever happening to him



Boarders: Evenin'

L: Boys! Boys! Now then look here! You'll never guess!

MM: You'll never guess

L (Boarders echo): Mr. Witherspoon got a telegram.

Well you could have knocked me flat!

Why would anyone send a telegram to a nincompoop like that?



Harry: I should be strolling along a sandy beach someplace exotic and bright

I should be dancing-

Company: Hold it up to the light

H: I should be quitting my job and moving out I should be waving goodbye

I should start living before I die



MM: Why on earth would they send it?

Boarder: we could slice it and mend it!

Boarder 2: He'll be home any minute

MM + Boarder: What the hell could be in it?

L: Should I just pry it open?



*kettle whistle*



Company: hmmm

L (Boarders echo): Will you have a cup? Have a lovely cup.

With some sugar dear and cream.

Got a lovely pot and a lot of steam

B1: Better hurry up,

B2: hold it over here

MM: I'm a nervous wreck!

L: Me too!



Harry: get the! Back off! Let go of my leg!

Company: *GASP!* Mr. Witherspoon! Got a telegram, for you.



Uncle's Last Request



Attorney: Mr. Witherspoon, this is you Uncle Anthony.

Harry: but I thought he died!

A: He did. The cassette will explain everything.

The wheelchair operates manually or electrically.

So nice to have met you. Bon Voyage and congratulations!

Harry: Oh my God!



Anthony: Atlantic City, May 5

Dear nephew Harry, this is my last will and testament

I hope it finds you in better health than it does me- ha ha ha!

Harry! We never met, so I hope you won't be too surprised

When you hear the little favor I want

H: Favor?

UA: In return for my 6 million dollars, I want to go to Monte Carlo.

H: What!?!

UA: I want to go to Monte Carlo on vacation!

The plans are made, the restaurants are booked.

Everything is paid in advance.

The only thing you have to do is guard me-

And this heart shaped box on my lap- with your life.

H: But, but this is impossible!

UA: you're probably thinking 'impossible!' right?

Look, a taxidermist friend of mine has me fixed up

So no one will notice a thing.

Just pass me off as your dear old invalid uncle,

And follow the instructions on the tape.

There's nothing to it!

H: Take a dead man to the French Riviera? You must be mad!

UA: Otherwise I'll leave it all to my favorite charity-

The Universal Dog Home of Brooklyn.

So, Harry, whaddya say?