BRUTAL SHED FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE BRAIN OF BUCKETHEAD. HE DOESN'T KNOW REALITY FROM IMAGINATION-AGH-AGH-AGH
"Hey-hey-hey, Onions. You, you-you-you got some white locks for my shrunken head? N-nh-n-nh-n-no? Oh, god... Eh-B-Bootsy, yhh-you got everything, my shrunken head nn-needs some white locks. Egh-cgh-can ya help me? Uh-agh-I'm slipping in to a cacophony of doom-filled sorrow. Eh-eh-eh-l guess I'll h-have to settle for albino pin worms instead. Heh-eh-erj-ehp-mm-may-may-maybe l-l-l could special order them from a fully-deluxe novelty outlet negh-in Cleveland. Eh-I should've stuck to raising jellied spiders.."