thank you, cleveland! you're a great crowd. but after three and a half hours of kick-ass rock and seven encores on top of that, i'm sorry to say that this time we really gotta get back to our hotel rooms and fuck some groupies.
lex, quit trying to always jinx things. don't worry, dudes. nobody's missing that concert tomorrow night.
jam, listen up.
just listen up, man, cause we are in a quandary.
are you on the crapper with one of those antenna phones? sounds like you're taking a dump the size of butte, montana.
anyway, listen up. they're gone!
the kiss tickets, you nimrod! they're just fuckin' gone! please tell me you have'm!
just check whatever you were wearing last night. now!
he's got'm!
trip, he took your jacket by mistake. you must be wearing jam's.
cool.
don't be a fembot. so, are you like grounded because of last night, or what?
both you assholes, shaddap!
enough of the mom-bashing, all right? lex's mom is cool about us crashing over here while she's out of town. and if it weren't for trip's mom, we wouldn'ta smoked that fine panama red last night. so leave the women who gave you life out of it. they're both cool.
will somebody please tell those chicks disco is dead.
yo, doofus!
okay, enough. enough. gimme the tickets. i wanna hold onto them.
they're what?
all right. after school we double- time it to your house for the tix before heading to the train station for the 2:45 to detroit rock city.
as they say in the tampon biz, see you next period.
what are you, high?
for once lex is right. it's over. things can't get any worse from here.
second floor girls' john! two minutes! he'll never look there!
you're way out of your league, elvis.
we're clear, dudes.
a skirt just came around the corner.
that's sherry vanhafton.
whoa.  she just farted.
weird.
maybe some tunage'll chase those blues away.
never mind with the too bad shit. i got a crazy plan, but only the craziest among us can pull it off.
fuckin' a! woooooo!
stan lee couldn't think of a better one.
i'm afraid our constipated little friend is right this time, trip. there is a catch.
our band "mystery" is a quartet and we can't go on the road without our drummer. jam's mom said something about sending him to st. bernard's, right? we gotta bust him out before we go anywhere.
so? your mom's car has a cb, radar detector and cruise control, check?
damn straight we are.
and when is she due back from that groinecologist's convention anyway?
then lighten up. she'll never know we touched it. alright, here's the plan. we bus it to chez lex, grab the volvo, bail jam the hell outta st. bernard's and arrive at the train station precisely on time for the 2:45 to detroit.
there's only so much trouble an individual can get into till it just doesn't matter anymore, lex. you familiar with a condition known as absolute zero?
well, jam is in absolute trouble. he couldn't get any deeper into shit if he was a fly sitting in a horse's ass. you know as well as me he'd give his right arm just to see peter criss's drum solo, never mind a whole kiss concert, check?
well, the least we, his only buds in the world, can do is take him along with us tonight and give him one last curl before he starts serving his sentence.
i was just explaining to lex here what you and i already know. just had to make it a little more complicated so he'd understand.
curly.
ok, dudes, follow my lead.
as i was saying, follow my lead. and maintain. elvis just showed up.
five second rule, boys. see you on the other side.
yeah, elvis.
your ass on a lunch tray.
on your marks and.
fire!
elvis, you ain't nothin' but a hot dog.
gimme a second, dudes. lemme think.
yeah, i'm philip mcnutly.
ten even.
if he offers you a slice, you're not the least bit hungry, check?
tell the big guy not to mention it.
shit! this is such a lousy view. how the hell are we gonna know when he's lit?
it's okay, we're old buds of father mcnulty.  how's it hangin', padre?
that was another dude. anyway, we're here to take our bud jam to the big satanic kiss concert tonight. okay with you?
next stop: the 2:45 to detroit rock city!
shit! anybody know how long it takes to fix a flat?
lex, am i gonna have to lock you in the trunk till we reach detroit? don't worry, these babies are built for speed.
totally. all i've had for chow was a packet of pop rocks and a yoo-hoo.
what's in sandusky?
only a car full of guidos and stellas would ride someone's ass on a two- lane road and beep.
what?! are you mentally deranged, jam?
what the fuck!
hey, disco dude, it's cool.
could be.
it could.  bake on?
okay, kenny? i don't mean to drain your keg or anything, but could you speed up this process? don't get me wrong, we'd love to stand here and get shit on by the cast of saturday night fever, but we're also on a schedule. so step on it.
no, i'm dumber than a goddamn slug. now can i please clean your windshield and leave without further ado?
well, let's recap, shall we? you slapped all of us, yelled at me, used my head for a rag, threw me on the ground and tossed our love gun 8- track under the wheels of a passing semi. so, if the lesson was that you're a dick with ears and a really bad haircut, then, yes.  i'd say we learned it.
okay. ahem! you. are. a. dick. with. ears. and. a. really. bad. haircut.
it's not, huh? well, then, tell me.
what exactly did my mother say last night?
you heard me, prick. what did my mother say last night?
how would you like a nice hawaiian punch?
right, stella, and we'll deserve it. but let's really make it worth their while.
by the way, when kenny wakes up could you give him a message for me. tell him, quote, kool and the gang bite my bag, motherfucker, unquote.
oh no, jam. i'm not falling for that twice.
well, they may not make movies about four dudes going to a kiss concert. but if they ever did, the four dudes most certainly would not stop and pick up a stranded disco bunny.
disco inferno? disco's infernal morelike.
the village people? they're fags! you're a fag hag!
you call that john travolta. denny terio shit dancing? i wouldn't dance like that in private if you paid me.
hey, if you don't like that one, maybe you'll think it's funny when we throw your ass out the goddamn car!
why don't you kiss my hairy crack?
there it is!
ample time to grab our tickets at the station. see, up ahead. w.a.r.p.
hey, look at the front entrance! a car's pulling out. the parking space from heaven. god is surely smiling down upon us tonight, dudes.
what was that d.j.'s name again?
simple simon?
we're right behind you, simo. just wanted to thank you in advance for handing over those burly-ass tix me and my buds won this morning.
well, here we are, dudes. one hour and thirty minutes away from the concert of the century.  ticketless. all thanks to wile e. coyote, super- fucking genius over here.
oh, i'm sorry, trip. what you made was a big, brainless, pile of horse shit. no offense.
please, jam, we're trying to vent some hostility here. sure the whole thing may be your fault, but who's gonna get pissed off at you?
i have one question. how could a kid who wails on the drums like it's the only thing keeping him alive even think of such a femmy thing to say?
now there's a woman who totally abuses the privilege of motherhood.
christine stole it! asleep, my ass! the stella booted with your mom's wheels.
jam, not another word out of your femmy-ass mouth! okay, we're here, we got nothing, and we got an hour and a half. we're totally committed. it's time to brainstorm.
wake up, lex. this is detroit. the cops aren't gonna waste city dollars looking for a swedish car. face it, the volvo's on a cutting board as we speak getting sliced, diced, and julienned by christine, the chop shop gourmet.
now listen up. here's the game plan.
cool, bro, now listen up.
okay, shut the fuck up, lex! now, then, step number one, we find us a scalper. i got.  twenty-five.
uh-uh. don't tell us, jam. just show us.
so maybe we got enough for one ticket. fuck!
brilliance, trip. sheer brilliance. give albert einstein here the nobel prize.
four dudes sneaking in? we'd get busted fer sure. bad plan.
still too risky for my money. we're running out of time here. this is kiss! a victory for one is a victory for the team. i'm sure i can barter with a scalper, but if you dudes think you got better plans, go for it. we'll reconvene at that intersection.
at twenty-thirty hours.
for the next hour and a half it's every dude for himself. try to get at least one ticket and at 8:30 p.m. we'll meet over there.
jam, shut-up! you're not allowed to speak, remember? go use whatever femmy idea you have to get yourself a ticket or four. i don't wanna hear it.
see you at 8:30, jam. later. dudes? later.
dude, this is all i got.
where the hell am i gonna scare up that kinda gravy in one hour?
i can't just walk in and take my clothes off. it's embarrasskin.
dude, if it were dancing the way fred astaire did it, i'd give it my best shot. i'd learn the steps and practice in my spare time. but this.  tribal, ritualistic bullshit, it's way-too-spontaneous for me.
hey, i invented fake i.d.s, alright. that's not the problem.  they're playing disco music in there, man.
like to sign up for the contest.
hawk.
got any kiss?
yeah, a man's drink.
dickey.
i'm gonna need all the help i can get tonight.
what's that?
sure, i have. but not one with ice in it, that's all.
whoa.  she is a killer.
oh, dicky, i c-c-can't.
i-i c-can't.
you're right, dicky. i gotta do it for kiss. gotta put a bag over its head and do it for kiss.
wow. i feel a hundred times better!
thanks lady.
maestro? as you were.
come on, dude, we got a bunch of frisky felines waiting for some entertainment! the show must go on!
thanks, miss.
right, well, thanks for the drinks and stuff, amanda, but there's no reason for me to stick around these parts anymore.
huh?
thanks.
what the hell is that?
whoa. some of this hard liquor's a tad too manly for me. i'm a brewski man myself.
who's whiskey dick?
my name's not woody, it's haw-haw.
holy shit!
well, amanda, this has been quite a night. so far you've seen me and my dick throw up. what's next? projectile diarrhea? man. what a stud, huh?
you love him?
no, i mean.  you love your son?
and he loves you back, doesn't he?
well, shame on him if he doesn't.
my mom died of a heart attack while she was having me. man, i wish i had known her for even one day. if they ever invent a time machine, that's what i'm doing. going back in time to meet my mom. i'm gonna say, "mrs. pitchford?.  or miss williams, depending on when i show up. you don't know me, but i'm your kid from the future. just wanted to thank you for the blue eyes, pug nose and for tying the knot with a guy who didn't mind diaper detail.  oh, and, uh.  cut down on the red meat, will ya?"
amanda, as ironic as this is gonna sound, i can't take any money for.  i'm no midnight cowboy, y'know. it would only cheapen the whole deal for me.
thanks.
whoa! whoa! whoa! that better not be the last ticket! i hope you have another one for me!
fuck me!
any luck?
tickets?
well, dudes, the only way we're gonna see kiss this tour is by some fuckin' miracle.
nah. couldn't be.
take it easy, elvis. don't do anything crazy. just give me the tickets before someone gets hurt.
go ahead, jam.
dude, you gotta let us in! four muggers just stole our tickets!