Countdown to the program.
Your ten fingers reach into the air.
You wiggle your nine toes in anticipation.
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention! They Might Be Giants have just crash-landed their glass bottom car into the control tower at Jim Baker International Airport!
Already you've forgotten what you ate for dinner. A creeping numbness consumes you.
This just in: the human egg has been sighted plummeting from the sky. Scientists standing by to assure us that nothing is wrong have already been found murdered in their laboratories!
Seven members of the group They Might Be Giants have quit the band over bitter disagreements about the introduction to tonight's show.
You begin to feel six.
Flash! Professor Psychofuckup, arrested and convicted of gate-crashing the show tonight, has hung himself by his watchband in his prison cell. He is listed in perfect condition.
Your five senses swell as you realize that history is not being made tonight. Rather, it is being consumed by a creeping numbness standing next to you.
No one seems to know what this is for.
Overturned tractor trailers rubbernecking bumper to bumper!
Only three seconds remain until They Might Be Giants hits the stage, over and over again.
It's time "two" sit back and make way for the
band that can overcome the
in their bank account. I don't mean to be the
but you'd be
if it weren't for the fabulous show you're about to enjoy. Ladies and gentlemen, make way for They Might Be Giants!