C.O.G. vs. The BBQ Sauce of Death ver. 1.1

Pinkerton: Howdy yaíll and welcome to anuther scientifical symposium by yours truly. Fur those of yaíll who ainít yet in the know, Iím Dr. Slim Pinkerton, founder and leader of the Cowboys of Genius! A group better known as the C.O.G.!

All: COG!!!

Pinkerton: Show Ďnuf. Furthermore, allow me to introduce my pardners in crime. Over on my left here is Texas ĎAí Pentatonic

Pentatonic: <pulls hat brim> Howdy.

Pinkerton: And this here young whippersnapper is Filbert, the Snodgrass kid! Say, Snodgrass, whatís that yer carryiní anyways? Hand it over so I can get a look see at it.

Filbert: <moving container behind his back> Shucks Dr. Pinkerton itís just a lilí something I found while I was out riding my horse! I was hoping youíd let me keep it!

Pinkerton: Now Filbert, you know better Ďní that! What if there was something dangerous in there, like a rattlesnake... or dynamite? Even worse, what if that can was full of Green Slime?!??

Pentatonic and Filbert: GREEN SLIME?


Pinkerton: Well all of this postulatinís gettiní me hungry. Heck, maybe thereís somethiní in there we can eat! Filbert, you open the can while me and Tex stand over yonder.

Filbert: OK sure I trust you guys!

<Pinkerton and Pentatonic shield themselves from the blast that never comes. Instead, Filbert starts sniffing the contents of the can and dips his hand in to taste...>


Filbert: But Doc itís alright! I think itís just barbecue sauce!

Pinkerton: <shakes finger at Filbert> Why Filbert, you donít even know where thatís from. Suppose itís from Noo York City!

Filbert and Pentatonic: NOO YORK CITY?!??!

Pinkerton: Yer darn tootin! Supposiní that sauceís gone bad. Why, it could cause you sickness... or even DEATH!


during song:

Death: What the HELL is this? Whereís the Consortium of Genius? Who are you fools anyway?

<Pentatonic pulls a revolver and shoots Death dead.>


Pinkerton: Heck, that all gives me an idear! Ya know, being as we are geniuses and all that, I guess we should try this stuff out on somebody else before eatiní it ourselves. Pentatonic, take one oí them there rhesus monkeys out the corral and stick him in the barbecue sauce for a while. Later on weíll open the can and see whether that lilí devilís still alive!


<Pentatonic turns away from the audience and puts something in the can, then closes the lid. Soft monkey sounds are heard at first, then louder protests followed by the slam of the lid.>

Pentatonic: <to can> AND STAY IN THERE!!! <to Pinkerton> There. The monkeyís in the can.

Filbert: But Doc Pinkerton, that monkey never did anything to you! Isnít this kind of experimentation morally wrong?

Pinkerton: Why Filbert, Filbert... FILBERT! Of course itís wrong, terribly wrong, but we didnít get to be the desperados that we are by being nice to every old body! Heck, we do wrong things all the time! Listení up!


Filbert: Can I set the monkey free now, Doc?

Pinkerton: Alright Filbert, ah reckon you can let that there monkey outta that dang olí can now.

Filbert: OK, here letís just let you out little frien... WHOA!

<Filbert reaches in and is startled to pull out not a little monkey but a little SKELETON!>


Filthy: Get your filthy hands off me you stinkiní Snodgrass!

Pentatonic: Hey Filbert, looks like the sauce is safe. Eat up heh heh...

Filthy: Put me back in the can, I want more barbecue!

<Filbert, repulsed, flings Filthy Catbox offstage>

Filthy: Whaaaaah!

Pinkerton: There, ya see Filbert? Always test yer theories on someone else first. It just so appears that this particular barbecue sauce first turns you evil, then skeletonizes you to the bone!

Filbert: Evil?


Pinkerton: Now hang on just a dadburned minute Filbert, where did you say you found this stuff?

Filbert: Well, I was just driviní along in my Ford pickup truck, nobody around for miles, and it was just lying there on the ground next to a crashed flying saucer, so I figured nobody would care if I just took it and...



Pinkerton: Heck, I just got the best danged idear Iíve ever had!

Pentatonic: Better than the deth lasso?

Pinkerton: Oh hell yes. Much better Ďní that.

Pentatonic: Better than the killer mechanical bull?

Pinkerton: Yep, I reckon this is way better Ďní that one too.

Filbert: But is it better than

Pinkerton: Filbert, would you just shut yer hamburger hole and allow me to elucidate? Now then, what weíre gonna do is is bottle up this outer space barbecue sauce of death, and ship it to every steakhouse in Texas! Once word gets around about how delicious it is, everybodyíll try some! Then, once the population is all SKELETONIZED, I can rustle every cow within the surrounding five counties!!! Moooo! hahahahahaha!

Pentatonic: <awestruck for some reason> Hot damn. Thatíll be the worst thing to hit the population since... the Black Plague of 1849!


Pinkerton: Now then, weíve just gotta get this stuff bottled up into those... whut did you jes say?

Audience member: Play Freebird!

Pinkerton: Did you jes say whut I thought you said? Whut song do you wanna hear? Freebird? Shucks, I ainít even worked up a sweat yet!


Filbert is staring at the can of sauce. He opens the lid.

Pentatonic: Well Doc Pinkerton, thatís all fine and good, but we should take a rest and get some grub. I sure am gettiní powerful hungry... and Filbert must be starviní ta death by now.

Filbert dips his hand in the sauce and puts it in his mouth.

Pinkerton: You know, I recon youíre right. Come on Filbert, letís FILBERT, WHAT IN TARNATION DO YOU THINK YOUíRE DOINí?!??!

Filbert drops to the floor and starts convulsing

Pinkerton: Damnation, I canít afford to lose another hand! Quick Filbert, drink this!

Pinkerton hands Filbert the MILK. Filbert drinks, then spits it out!

Pinkerton: <gently> Are you alright, Snodgrass kid?

Filbert: <outraged> What in the farganargling poppycock was that?

Pinkerton: Come on, youíve seen it before... itís that white liquid that comes out the bottom of a cow! Them dang olí Vikings used to drink it all the time! Listen up!


Pinkerton: So Filbert... what have we learned today?

Filbert: Not to eat the outer space barbecue sauce.

Pinkerton: <to audience> Yaíll hear that? I reckon the Snodgrass Kid has leaned a valuable lesson today, a lesson that every cowboy must someday learn... in fact, Filbert, from this day on, I canít call you Ďkidí any longer. Because, Filbert, now youíre a MAN.


Pinkerton: Well heck Filbert, being as youíre a man now, I reckon itís time you were introduced to a member of the opposite sex. Lemme tell you about a lilí filly name of Android Woman...


Pentatonic: You know Pinkerton, that barbecue sauce sure might be tasty as all get-out, but wonít people get kind Ďa riled up without any dessert?

Pinkerton: Youíre just trying to get me to break out the ice-cream arenít you? Well why not. In fact, ice cream for everyone!


<After the song, Filbert removes his bass and starts gearing up to get all gothic... but Zarglar and the Brain Alien appear and abduct him right off the stage!>

Pinkerton: Now itís time for a lilí warning about them dang olí vampires of the wild west... Filbert?

Pentatonic: Holy shit Pinkerton, Filbertís been abducted by aliens!

Pinkerton: Really? Guess they saw through his disguise. They didnít recognize us did they?

Pentatonic: Donít think so...

Pinkerton: <dropping accent> Then we can remove these ridiculous disguises. Back to the lab, Pentatonic! See you all in 2001!

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