Do You Like My New Car? [Live at Pepperland, 9/26/70]

FZ: On the way to the hotel, in a little car . .

Mark: Vroom . . . Vroom . . . Hey, honey, do you like my new car?
Howard: Oh, it's real cool. Do you know how to get to the Holiday Inn?
Mark: Which one are you staying at?
Howard: The one by the airport. We gotta get up, fly out of here early in the morning, you know?
Mark: Where do you play tomorrow night?
Howard: Düsseldorf
Mark: Oh, you're so professional. They way to get to travel to all those exotic places. Do you really have a hit single in the charts, with a bullet?
Howard: Listen, honey, would I lie to you just to get in your pants?
Mark: Don't talk to me that way! I am not a groupie!
Howard: No, no, I . .
Mark: And neither is my girlfriend Jeff
Jeff: No shit, Howie, we just like musicians for friends
Howard: But . . . But I thought you said you got off being juked with a baby octopus, spewed upon with creamed corn and that your harelipped girlfriend dug it with a hot 7-Up bottle or she went apeshit, I mean, what's the deal?
Mark: All that's true, Howie, all that's true, and sometimes I even dig it with a Jack-In-The-Box ring job, but we are not groupies! We are not groupies, and you remember that if you want to get—
Howard: But, I want some action. I mean, I want a hot, steaming, succulent, ever-widening, dipping, drippy, running, sticking, smearing orifice with a teen-age girl attached to, and I mean, I thought that we were gonna get our rocks off, you know what I mean, uh? Know what I mean, uh? Know what I mean, uh? Know what I mean, uh? Feet on fire! Know what I mean! Know what I mean?
Mark: I have been looking for a guy from a group with a dick which is a MONSTER!
Howard: That's me! Why didn't you say that before? Take me, I'm yours, you succulent San Francisco beauty. Fulfill my wildest dreams!
Mark: Oh! Anything for you, my most seductive pop star of a man . . . bead jobs, knotted nylons, bamboo canes, ice cubes, Mazola Oil, and/or a [puddy] electric pony harness, air cooled. All these and more . .
Howard: I can't stand it! I can't stand it! Give it to me now! Give it to me now right here in the car, it doesn't matter, give it to me right here, I'm ready. Give me the pony harness . . . Please . . . Oh, please . .
Mark: Only if you—
Howard: Please
Mark: Only if you sing me your big hit record! And I wanna hear the bullet!
Howard: What?
Mark: Well, I have a problem
Howard: Would you like to talk to me about it?
Mark: I can't come!
Howard: Huh?
Mark: I can't come unless you sing me your big hit record, heh heh heh . . . Please, sing me the record, the one, Howie. And you sing me the bullet!
Howard: The bullet?
Mark: The bullet! Howie, you got to sing the record. The one . . . you do . . . come on, Howie . . . please . .
Howard: Okay, okay, baby
Mark: Sing me the bullet
Howard: Bend over and spread 'em. Here comes my bullet . .