Oh Brenda, I appreciate your willingness to help, but I’m afraid we’re going to need a bigger lasso. However, your sweet voice could surely serenade this entire city that has plunged into chaos due to the stark raving mad giant ape made up to look like Santa Claus who is hell-bent on pulverizing all of us with the brute force of his paws.
Please, whatever you do, don’t call the ape, taunt the ape, or try to get the ape’s attention. It’s best to let him pass you by, and don’t yell out his name, even if you’re doing so in a jazzy, bouncy style with great back-up harmonies.
Listen Buck, you know I love you. But that giant ape is now climbing the tallest building in town. He’s going to foul up cell phone reception when he gets to the top—that’s where the towers are. Buck, I don’t know where you’re getting this stagecoach business, even though this is one hell of song. But that ape is getting higher and higher and we live in a city. There are no stagecoaches here.
Oh I get it. This is like at the end of Ghostbusters, when everyone kind of dances in the demolished streets lathered in the remains of the State Puff Marshmellow Man. So when the giant ape is decimated by the high-powered weapons of our air force planes and he careens lifelessly into the ground and his body squirts all over the street, rather than saying, “Who you gonna call?” we’ll instead say, “What you gonna dance?” The Santa Claus Boogie!