Butthole Surfers/Live PCPPEP

Scenes from the coming-of-age film I Was a Teenage Butthole Surfer Lover:

Opening sequence: Our hero, as a pimply-faced adolescent, sneaks off to smoke a roach of genuine Mexi-creeper weed between class periods, and the effects of it hit just as he stumbles back into the Ronald Reagan Memorial Gymnasium in time for the all-blond and tanned rich kid pep rally featuring gridiron heroes with last-name-first names like Hunter and Preston. He has a pair of headphones strapped on (cue Butthole Surfers' "Kuntz") and as he gazes upon the lipstick-smeared rictuses of the anorexic cheerleaders doing the splits and fisting the air, the cosmic conspiracy overwhelms him, and he sees that his entire life has led up to this moment.

Flashback fade-in with vaseline-smeared lens: Our disaffected young hero sits in Ms. Walthall's homeroom at Alamo Heights Junior High, boldly asking intimate questions about her son Paul Leary's band.

Hero: "Wait, wasn't their first album really called A Brown Reason to Live? Whose peepees are those on the cover anyhow? And do you pronounce the live EP they did as PCP-Pep, as the other kids on the playground call it, or is that just a peepee joke, too?

Ms. Walthall: [her bottom lip trembling] "Never mention that awful band's name again!" Our hero is held back for yet another year.

Scene Thirty-Seven: An awkward punk rock girl finds her way to a back house tucked off of the hoity-toity Geneseo Drive in an exclusive oil-money neighborhood, and makes her way into a packed room with these two accounting school dorks from Trinity clamoring.

Band: [screaming] "There's a time to fuck and a time to crave, but the Shah sleeps in Lee Harvey's grave!!!"

[Note: Guitars are to played with the members' dicks as slides, and the singer is to pour lighter fluid over crash cymbals and then light them on fire as he hits it, threatening to bring everything down in an obnoxious blaze of glory.]

Everybody: [shouting in homage to the acid casualty crying on the first version] "Shut up! Shut up! Shut the FUCK UP!"

[Her voiceover: "These guys fucking suck, they'll never make it out of San Antonio, especially with a name like that."]

Interlude: The dialogue is in muffled Spanish, but we can make out a young boy being consoled by El Santo, breathing heavily through his famous silver wrestling mask as he tickles his little wee-wee. "Get your hands off me, Hey!" is the only line in English that can be made out of the black-and-white mess. But if you hit pause and look in the background, as legend has it, you can even make out The Donkey Man himself, splayed on a picnic table, recreating the infamous Donkey Show from down in Juarez.

Scene Sixty-Nine: Sneaking through the back entrance, Long-Haired Dude #4 gets to experience the Butthole Surfers in the flesh. They only have one album on the Dead Kennedys' label, and so most of it gets rehashed live, with far more smoke, strobe lights, surgically scarred titties, and mayhem than could ever be deemed tolerable by the Motion Picture Association of America. It's less Saturday morning cartoon and more psychotic goons in shit-stained cut-offs than the record would ever let on. There's even a saxophone played by a guy with smoke rising up through his shocked-up hairdo. Gibby Haynes, at nearly seven feet, shirtless, swinging about a shotgun, sounds less like Foghorn Leghorn 'n' Yosemite Sam's brood in person, and more like a speed-gobbling car mechanic with Gein-sized meat chunks packed in the back of the rusty pick-up. After a particularly blatting, Byzantine meltdown of "Something" (its second appearance in the film) he even gets a small speaking part.

Gibby: "Alright, we managed to clear out a lot of the people. Lookit that, these shit's are going home right now. [Pause] You fucks. Hope you get to work on time."

[Note: Original edit of film contained only seven live songs, now expanded to nine, including an insipid number thankfully left off of any other recorded document: "Matchstick".]

Scene Eighty-Three: Chewing on a thick wad of the brown acid, our hero is standing at a Butthole Surfers concert many years in the future when they're really great, as they play on the Sonic Butt-Fire Tour (including Sonic Youth and Firehose). Nearing the menacing portal of Acid Candyland, his body dangling like a jellyfish, his buddy taps him on the shoulder and makes him focus on a particularly gruesome penile reconstruction film playing behind the band.

Hero: [mumbles incoherently] Jack Ruby slippers! You can never go home again! [Has flash vision of both River Phoenix and Kurt Cobain meeting their demise after coming into contact with Gibby Haynes, goes insane.]

Cue yet another fucking version of "Something" (this time a demo) as end credits roll.