Get out of here, monkeys! Get out of here, monkeys!

[Beck & Travis are paralyzed from eating a jungle fruit] Beck:
[slurred]
Oh, thit... Travis:
[who can't turn his head]
What? What? Beck:
Monkey! Monkey! Travis:
Monkey? Where? Get him away from me! Beck:
[weakly]
Get out of here, Monkey. Travis:
[weakly]
Get out of here, Monkey. Beck:
[weakly]
Get out of here, Monkey. [Sounds of a swarm of monkeys running around them and drawing closer] Travis:
Oh, no... Beck:
I hate this place. I hate penis-eating minnows and I hate freaky fruit. I want to go home. I want concrete. I want homemade tortellini. I want my Los Angeles Lakers. I want to go home, I want to go home, I WANT TO GO HOOOOOOME! [He gets pissed off enough to overcome the paralysis and lift his head and arm, waving a tree branch] Beck:
Get out of here, monkeys! Get out of here, monkeys! [the monkeys run off. Beck tries to stand, and promptly collapses to the ground again]