Mufasa: Rawr, I'm a lion! Heed my lion logic! However sad it may be that RENT is leaving Broadway, you must not fret. For… it lives… in youuuuuu, Simba. I am Mufasa and I approve this message, bitches.
Sarah: (giggling) I LIKKEEE MUFFAAASSSAA.
Rajah: SIMBA, I AM YOUR FATHAH. With an H, yeah… that's gangsta.
Sarah: Why did Mufasa have to die in that movie?
Rajah: Because Disney likes one parent families. Deal with it.
Sarah: BUT MUFASA'S THE BOMB! (Diggity)
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DIARY!
Sorry I screamed, I'm freaking out. Ok? I NEED TO WRITE A SONG! I'm on a bus back to New York and if I come back without a song, I will look like such a loser, like a loser that can be stretched around the entire surface of the world. In other words, I'll look like a loser that was morbidly husky and lost like 525,600 pounds of huskiness… and just has a ton of extra skin hanging off. EW, I'll be flabby! If I wave hello to Mark when I get back, my arm will be flopping around in the wind like a freaking FLWAAHAAWAAHFWLAHAAWA.
Yes, that's a word, Diary.
Seriously though, I need help. I'm going to brainstorm on you. Wow, that sounds so scandalous.
So, here's what I got: I know I want the song to be about Mimi. I mean, I have to sing it for her, duh. I mean, why would I write a song about Mark and sing it to Mimi? That would be ridiculous! Besides, any song about Mark would be teeming with pumpkin references and pumpkin just doesn't roll off the tongue.
Soooo what do I like about Mimi…… hmmmm…….
I like her ass.
Her boobs.
Her dancing.
Umm I don't know if she'd like me writing a song about her lady bits though.
I like her hair in the moon light.
Her smile… but that reminds me of April so I won't go in to that.
Ummm…ooh! She makes these really good chocolate chip cookies from scratch… they're DELICIOUS! But um… wow, I just imagined singing to her about her famous cookie recipe… her face, like her reaction… well, it's not what I'm aiming for in my mind.
Le sigh.
What am I supposed to write about then?
OWWW! What the fuck? This idiot kid in front of me shot me in my freaking eyeball with his damn Nerf gun! Dumbass kid, what the hell is his problem! Excuse me a sec; I need to spit profanities at him.
I'm back… with an ingenious idea. Thanks to that GLORIOUS creature of a child, that amazing 11 year-old. Listen, so… I started writing profane message on little wads of paper and I spit a couple at him through a straw, and then, I just yelled, "What the hell, kid? I am trying to write a FREAKING song! AND YOU GO AND HIT MY EYE, GOSH!" Then, I paused. "Wait… hold the phone… eyes….EYES! EYESSSSS!"
So I got really excited. "EYES!" I yelled, at the old lady in front of me.
"What'd you say, honey?"
"EYEEESSSS!"
"You need ice?"
"EYEESS!" Then I looked at the man across the aisle from me. "EYES!!!!"
He just nodded slowly and replied, "Um… ok…. eyes."
Then there was this middle-aged lady was nearby so I turned to her in my elation and screamed, "EYES!"
She reached out and patted my shoulder lovingly. "Aw, listen little buddy, when the men in the white coats come for you… you behave extra good now, they'll take you to a happy place… and no matter what, Jesus will always love you."
I stared at her for a long minute and then pointed slowly at my eyes. "EYES! OW!" Yeah, I poked myself.
And then, there was this really muscular-looking dude on the other side of the lady. "EYY…" I started, but then I examined his guns and thought, Maybe I'd better not do that… yeah, maybe not…
He kind of slammed his fist into his other palm and glared at me like I killed his mother or something. So I left him alone.
Then, I turned to that little kid and gave him the biggest hug (A.N.: That kid got a ROGER hug! Squee.) and thanked him for shooting me in the eye and giving me inspiration. He looked a little scared and said, "Mommy…?"
His mother proceeded to slap my beautiful face… it left a red mark, GOD! Anyway, and she called me a pervert. I was like, "Uh uh, BITCH! Your kid just shot me in my freaking eye with a Nerf gun, and you're lucky I'm not beating his skinny ass right this minute! How do you like them apples? TRIPLE SNAP ATTACK!" And I snapped my fingers three times in a zig-zag formation in front of me.
Alright, so here I am, ready to write. I'm going… to write a song… about… drumroll, please? Mimi's eyes.
I know, great idea huh? Thank that random Nerf kid.
So… let's see now.
Um… hm.
Lalalalalala…..uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah…….uh, I think I'm having an episode.
Why does songwriting have to be so hard?
Ok, you know what? Time to show that Roger Davis has kahhoenies.
I can write a freaking song, even if it takes me a whole year, I can!
Well, first, I need some rhymes.
Hm… well, what rhymes with eyes? Let's make a list.
Pies, Fries, Lies, Cries, Sties, Flies, Sighs, Guys, Ties, Thighs, Dies, Skies, Goodbyes, Surprise, Baptize, Improvise, Wise, Shanghais, Nobel Prize, Size, Spies, Vandalize…
Let's try this.
Your eyes, remind me of pies…the pies that my mommy makes, because they're yummy, and you're yummy… and whoa, this sucks.
Great song I have going here.
Um… let's try again.
Your pies…
Oh feces, this isn't about pies.
Your eyes, are hot like French fries… but French fries are greasy and nasty. But your eyes AREN'T!
Wow, that'll flatter her, alright.
Uh…
Your eyes, never tell lies… damn it! Eyes can't even talk!
Ah, I'm such a loser, I'm going to have flabby arms!
Your eyes, remind me of wolf cries… ahhh fuck, eyes don't make noise! Why can't I seem to get this through my thick head, eyes don't talk or MAKE NOISES! GRRRR.
Oh wow, I think I just said that out loud and people are staring.
"Yeah, suck it, bitches! I'm writing a song!" Ok, now they're leaving me alone.
Your eyes, are brown… like the mud in pig sties… only they don't smell like pig shit… actually they don't smell at all, at least I don't think they do… although I haven't actually put my nostrils up to your eyes before and smelled them… oh well, I don't think my nostrils are THAT sensitive, maybe a dog or something could smell them…
What the FUCK am I even SAYING?
How does any of that fit a song-like pattern?
I'm screwed, Diary.
Your eyes, aren't irritating like flies, there's a goddamn fly on the window of the bus, and it's distracting me… I'd like to smash it, but I don't want fly guts on my diary!
Why did that one have to be the one that actually almost rhymed well?
Your eyes, cause dreamy sighs…droooolllll.
Ah, I'm sorry, Diary, did I get you wet? Oh man, I don't want to sing to Mimi about my drool, COME ON! She already knows I drool in my sleep… she thinks it's gross.
Your eyes, attract many guys… perverted ones at the Catscratch Club, that I'd like to castrate… well, I don't think it's your eyes they're looking at, but WHATEVER man, your eyes are pretty!
I think it's…. getting better. Maybe a little?
Your eyes, put my heart in ties…
Too cheesy. WAYYY to cheesy. And soft, man. Besides, if my heart was in ties… well, that sounds painful… and um, it would cause serious medical problems. I don't want to tell Mimi she causes me serious medical problems… that's a secret.
Your eyes, are tasty as chicken thighs… WAIT, why would I eat your eyes, that's gross!
I take back what I said about it getting better. Ohhhh dear.
Your eyes, are something I need to write about before this song dies…
Hey, I like that part about the song dying. I'll use that later!
Your eyes, aren't really like skies, because they're brown… and if the skies were brown, it would mean there's a shit storm rolling in…not saying your eyes look like shit or anything. They remind me of coffee more.
Wow. That. Sucked.
Your eyes, as we said our goodbyes…
Whoa. Wait, that was… good. Oh my good golly gosh, YES! I'm saving that one.
Your eyes, that took me by surprise…
Hm, that wasn't bad either. Something like that… wow, I'm a beast! RAWR.
Your eyes, when they meet mine, I feel baptized.
What does that even mean? Oh, I think I just took a step backward…
Your eyes, oohhh this song sucks so much it sounds like I'm improviseeee...ing on the spot.
Um. That's definitely not going to give her the right idea.
Your eyes, why does distance make us wise?
Hey, I can do this. I'm the Little Engine that Could, Man. Choochoo.
Your eyes… shanghais?
WHAT. THE. FUCK?!! That's one small step backwards, one giant leap from finishing this song.
Your eyes, should win a Nobel Prize…
It's a nice thought… but ehhh, I don't know, it's just doesn't…set the mood.
Your eyes, are an abnormally large size…
No.
Your eyes, remind me of undercover spies… they're sneaky.
Wait, is that a good thing? Maybe not.
Your eyes, do not vandalize… for they can't spray spray paint.
However true that maybe… no. Just no.
Let's just put some of the good ones together.
Your eyes, the ones that took me by surprise, that night as we said our goodbyes, in the moonlight I see your eyes.
Good so far, kind of.
Your eyes, are my song… and before it dies…
WAIT. WAAAAITTT… Mimi's the song. Not her eyes. WHOA. BRAIN BLAST!
I got this on lock now.
Your Eyes
As We Said Our Goodbyes
Can't Get Them Out Of My Mind
And I Find I Can't Hide (From)
Your Eyes
The Ones That Took Me By Surprise
The Night You Came Into My Life
Where There's Moonlight
I See Your Eyes
How'd I Let You Slip Away
When I'm Longing So To Hold You
Now I'd Die For One More Day
'Cause There's Something I Should
Have Told You
Yes There's Something I Should Have
Told You
When I Looked Into Your Eyes
Why Does Distance Make Us Wise?
You Were The Song All Along
And Before The Song Dies
I Should Tell You I Should Tell You
I Have Always Loved You
You Can See It In My Eyes
…. Did that come out of me? Wow, that's deep, man. Real deep.
Oh my God. I HAVE MY SONG!
Oh, Diary, I'm going to kiss you. The people on this bus already think I'm crazy, what have I got to lose?
Love you honey bunches of oats,
Roger Elizabeth Davis