Oh, thit... What? What? Monkey! Monkey! Monkey? Where? Get him away from me! Get out of...

[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]

- What? - Monkey. Monkey. Monkey? Where? Just get him away from me. - Get out of here. - Get out of here. Get out of here, monkey! Oh, no. - I hate this place. - Get out of here! I hate penis-eating minnows, and I hate freaky fruit. - Get them away from me. - I wanna go home. I want concrete. - Get out of here, monkey. - I want homemade tortellini. I want my Los Angeles Lakers. That's what I want. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home! Get out of here, monkey. Get out of here, monkey. Well, what about that? - Been for a stroll, have you, boys? - Where's my bag? Where's my jeep?