The Tune

Mm.

Nah.

Uh-uh.

Yeah.

Mm, nope.

Del, are you okay?

Oh, Didi, it's you.

Sorry, but I'm having trouble with my new song.

How's my little snuggle bunny?

Are we getting together tonight, my little love muffin?

Del, please be serious.

You've gotta sell your songs to Mr. Mega

or we'll never get together.

In fact, he's here now to--

Come on, my little minuet.

I know you love it when I bite your little earsy wearsies.

So.

- And you've got the cutest little earsy wearsies

I know.

- And you've got the cutest little buns in the business.

And you've got the cutest little...

Hello, Mr. Romance-in-the-Pants.

If you want to live in hearts and flowers land

with your sweet bunny muffin,

then why don't you bring all your brilliant new tunes

over today or maybe yet--

- Great, Mr. Mega, I'm working on a real hot tune now.

It's a fabuloso, fave, classic,

hot number one with a bullet, top-ten, killer,

ground breaker, hit smasharoo chart buster.

I just need one more line.

Try the unemployment line.

Listen, Del, you've got 47 minutes

to deliver your nothing-burger hit.

Wait, Mr. Mega, listen to this.

Yeah, you listen to this.

- Call for you on line number 726, it's Mrs. Mega.

- Don't try coming home late again tonight, tweezer-brows.

Yes, my little puppy paws.

And don't forget the milk, lint-breath!

Yes, my little poodle pet.

Do you suppose you could forget

about Mr. Wunderbar long enough

to put in a few seconds of secretarial duty?

Yes, Mr. Mega.

C sharp.

B flat.

Oh, why did I ever leave home?

47 minutes, 47 minutes, 47 minutes,

47 minutes, 47 minutes, 47 minutes.

47 minutes, 47 minutes, 47 minutes,

47 minutes, 47 minutes, 46 minutes, ah!

I can write a hit.

- You dunderhead, you couldn't write yourself

out of a wet paper bag.

- I can too write myself out of a wet paper bag.

The only contribution you'll ever make

to the music industry is by dying young.

Oh, yeah, I'll show you.

- You tuneless twit, what does Didi see in you?

Didi loves me, Didi and I are...

Yipes.

Phew, I made it.

I'm safe now!

What's going on?

Where am I?

This is strange.

Thank you very much.

I love you, baby.

What now?

Lost?

No, I just don't know where I am.

Well, son.

Wow, what a great tune!

I can actually remember it.

Did you write that?

- In Flooby Nooby, songs like that, they write themselves.

What do you mean?

- You think too much to write a great song.

You've got to feel all the emotions, the passion.

Pain.

Pasta.

Follow me, son.

I'll show you what I mean.

What's going on?

How come the trees are getting smaller?

Don't you know?

Perspective is a myth.

In your world, all objects are afraid

of being eaten by humans, so they puff themselves up.

But here in Flooby Nooby,

we all love everything, so there's no need for puffery.

Don't believe me?

Go ahead and pet that dog.

You're a stranger here, so he's not sure

whether you're going to eat him.

All you have to do is let go with some music.

You're not feeling it, Del!

It's got to come from your heart.

That's from your pancreas.

Up a little bit and to the right.

Oh no, you're just not getting it.

But, I know someone who can show you how.

Who, who?

I've got to know.

Well, he is really quite busy,

you know these intellectuals.

Please.

Who?

Some call him a brilliant scholar.

Some call him a learned guru,

and then some call him the all-knowing sage.

But most folks call him the wise one.

Course, I get to call him Gus.

Yeah, that's what I want!

Where is he?

Well, fortunately, the wise one

is everywhere at all times.

- Remember, only a few mortals are lucky enough

to be in the presence of this enlightened being,

who I call Gus.

This has got to help me.

How else am I going to write that perfect tune

and how else am I going to keep my job and Didi?