(It's another nice day in the Jellicle Junkyard. Any discarded instruments that were thrown in there have been dug out, and Juliet is baby-powdering the Rum Tum Tugger's mane, much to his dismay...)

JULIE: Hold still, Tugger, or this'll take a lot longer than it should!

TUGGER: I don't know why you want me to baby-powder my mane gray for this role!

JULIE: Because Robert Preston's hair was turning gray when he played Professor Harold Hill, and it wouldn't hurt you to look a bit like him! And I'll be taking that stud belt too.

TUGGER: Uh-uh. Not the stud belt. If I'm going to look like an old codger, at least let me keep the belt so the queens know it's still me.

POUNCIVAL: At least you don't have my problems, Tugger. Why did Matt want me to play Winthrop? I'll sound like my Uncle Sylvester!

JULIE: The one who made a career out of chasing that yellow canary around?

POUNCE: That's the one!

TUGGER: Hey, he's cool! Thufferin' thuccotasth!

POUNCE: Yeah, he WAS...until he went all Hollyweird on us!

(Matt enters, and the rest of the cats come out.)

MATT: So, you guys ready? You know, the faster we do this, the faster we can get to all that fresh tuna fish I have in the fridge!

POUNCE: What are we waiting for?! ACTION!

MATT: Only I can say that!

POUNCE: What?

MATT: ACTION!

POUNCE: Sorry. Didn't mean to overstep my bounds.

MATT: OK, for real this time...ACTION!

(The opening scene takes place on a train, actually it's inside one of the cars. Several travelling salestoms are busy with a card game, one of whom has his back turned to the audience, and just keeps on winning. Some others are shooting the bull, reading newspapers, and so on. There are other cats too, who aren't travelling salestoms, also just hanging around.)

ALONZO: Thank the Everlasting Cat we don't have to build a train out of junk again. You saw what happened last time.

SKIMBLESHANKS: I'll thank you very much not to mention that. My tail still has a bruise from that incident.

(The conductor--Coricopat--pokes his head in the railway car.)

CORICOPAT: River City Junction--River City next station stop!

SKIMBLE: That's the lamest conductor voice I've heard. Let me show you how it's done, Coricopat...

MATT: Uh-uh, Skimble. You need to keep your voice in good shape for this play.

(The salestoms begin to talk...)

GEORGE: You're crazy with the heat. Credit is no good for a notion salesman.

CORI: Booooard! All abooooard!

SKIMBLE: Coricopat, you're setting my profession back!

CARBUCKETTY: Why not? What's the matter with credit?

GEORGE: It's old fashioned. Charlie, you're an anvil salesman. Your firm give credit?

MACAVITY: (after looking upward to make sure that no anvils drop on him, after all, he is often a torture victim in these parodies) No sir!

GEORGE: Nor anybody else!

(The train starts up.)

CORI: River City, River City next.

(The salestoms begin to talk in time with the rhythm of the train chugging.)

GEORGE: CASH for the merchandise, CASH for the button hooks

BILL BAILEY: CASH for the cotton goods, CASH for the hard goods, CASH for the soft goods...

GEORGE: CASH for the fancy goods

CARB: CASH for the noggins and the piggins and the firkins!

BILL: CASH for the hogshead, cask, and demijohn, CASH for the crackers and the pickles and the fly-paper.

(The train is now at full speed.)

QUAXO: Look, whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk?

ADMETUS: Wheredayagitit?

QUAXO: Whadayatalk?

GEORGE: You can talk, you can talk, you can bicker, you can talk, you can bicker bicker bicker, you can talk you can talk tou can talk, talk, talk, talk, bicker, bicker, bicker, you can talk all ya wanna but it's different than it was.

MAC: No it ain't, no it ain't, but ya gotta know the territory!

(Several background cats begin doing the Running Man, the Kid N' Play Kick Step, and any other modern dance they can think of.)

MATT: EXCUSE ME! Where does it say "the background cats in this scene are hip-hop dancing while the salestoms are talking?")

TUMBLEBRUTUS: Excuse us! This whole scene SOUNDS like a rap!

BILL: Sh sh sh sh sh sh sh. Why it's the Model T Ford made the trouble, made the people wanna go wanna get wanna get up and go 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 22, 23 miles to the county seat--

GEORGE: Yes sir, yes sir!

BILL: Who's gonna patronize a little bitty two-by-four kinda store anymore?

QUAXO: Whatdayatalk, whatdayatalk.

PLATO: Wheredyagitit.

MAC: Not the Model T at all, take a gander at the store, at the MODERN store, at the present day store, at the present day modern departmentalized grocery store!

POUNCE: Yo yo yo! We gettin' jiggy wit' it! YEAH BOYEE!

MATT: POUNCE!!!!

POUNCE: Hey, they were all bustin' a rhyme!

JELLYLORUM: Who let Pounce listen to rap music?!

QUAXO: Whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk.

ADMETUS: Wheredayagitit?

QUAXO: Whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk.

ADMETUS: Wheredayagitit?

GEORGE: Ya can talk, ya can bicker, ya can talk, ya can bicker, ya can talk, talk, talk, talk, bicker, bicker, bicker, ya can talk all ya wanna but it's different than it was.

MAC: No it ain't but ya gotta know the territory.

BILL: Why it's the Uneeda Biscuit made the trouble, Uneeda, Uneeda, put the crackers in a package, in a package, the Uneeda Biscuit in an air-tight sanitary package made the cracker barrel obsolete, obsolete.

MAC: Obsolete, obsolete, obsolete.

QUAXO: Cracker barrel went out the window with the Mail Pouch cut plug chawin' by the stove, changed the approach of a travelin' salestom, made it pretty hard...

MAC: No it didn't, no it didn't, but ya gotta know the territory.

BILL: Gone, gone.

(Tumblebrutus and Pouncival make percussion noises with their mouths in the background and strike "hip-hop" poses. Jellylorum quickly herds them off the stage.)

GEORGE: Gone with the hogshead, cask and demijohn, gone with the sugar barrel, pickle barrel, milk pan, gone with the tub and the pail and the tierce.

CARB: Ever meet a tomcat by the name of Hill?

GEORGE: Hill?

MAC: Hill!

BILL: Hill?

QUAXO: Hill?

PLATO: Hill?

ASPARAGUS: Hill?

VICTOR: Hill?

ADMETUS: Hill!

ALL EXCEPT MAC: NO!

MAC: Just a minute, just a minute, just a minute...

QUAXO: Never heard of any salestom Hill

CARB: Now, he doesn't know the territory...

GEORGE: Doesn't know the territory?

BILL: What's the fella's line?

CARB: Never worries 'bout his line.

GEORGE: Never worries 'bout his line?

CARB: Or the cracker barrel bein' obsolete, or the Uneeda Biscuit in an air-tight sanitary package or the Model T Ford...

MAC: Just a minute, just a minute, just a minute...

CARB: Never worries 'bout his line

BILL: Never worries 'bout his line

CARB: Or a doggone thing. He's just a bang beat bell ringin' big haul, great go, neck or nothin' rip roarin' everytime a bull's eye SALESTOM, that's Professor Hairball Hill.

ADMETUS: Tell us--what's his line? What's his line?

MAC: He's a fake and he doesn't know the terr--

QUAXO: Whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk, whadayatalk.

CARB: He's a music tom--

BILL: He's a what? He's a what?

CARB: He's a music tom and he sells clarinets to the kittens in the town with the big trombone and the ratatat drums and the big brass bass, big brass bass. And the piccolo, the piccolo, uniforms too with the shiny gold braid on the coat and a big red stripe running--

GEORGE: Weeeeelll, I don't know much about bands but I know you can't make a livin' sellin' big trombones or ratatat drums, no sire. Mandolin picks, perhaps, and here and there a Jew's-harp...

CARB: No, the tom sells bands. Toms' Bands. I don't know how he does it, but he lives like a king and he dallies and he gathers and he plucks and he shines, and when the tom dances, certainly boys, what else: the piper pays HIM.

(the train slows down at this point)

Yes Sir. Yes--Sir. Yes---Sir. Yes---Sir. When the tom dances, certainly boys, what else, the piper pays him.

ALL: Yes--Sir. Yes--Sir.

MAC: BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW THE TERRITORY!

(The train comes to a stop.)

CORI: River City! River City! River City! We're cross the state line into Iowa. RIver City! Population twenty two hundred and twelve. Cigarettes illegal in this state. Booooard!

(he leaves)

MAC: All right, if you're all through bustin' a move and gettin' funky with your bad selves...

MATT: MAC! JUST SAY IT AS IT'S IN THE SCRIPT!

MAC: GRRRR! But it sounded so much like a rap...(back into character) All right, if you're all through I'll tell you about Hairball Hill.

ADMETUS: You really know Hairball Hill?

MAC: Never saw him in my life but I know this much-he's giving every one of us a black eye.

MUNGOJERRIE: LOOK WHO'S TALKING!

MAC: After he's worked a town over, the next salestom to arrive get automatically tarred and feathered and rode out to the city limits on a rail.

(The other salestoms laugh.)

MAC: You think that's funny. Well, wait till it happens to you. Your mane NEVER grows back. (He takes off his hat, and he's wearing a shower cap on his head to add to the effect of his last line.)

GEORGE: But why should he get rode outta town on a rail?

MAC: Because in order to sell band instruments, AND uniforms, AND instruction books, he has to guarantee to teach the kittens to play.

BILL: Well?

MAC: AND to form them kittens into a band, with himself as the leader!

CARB: What's wrong with that!

MAC: He don't know one note from another, that's what's wrong with that! He can't tell a bass drum from a pipe organ! I'll catch up with that swindlin' two bit thimble rigger and when I do I'll squeal on him so loud...

CARB: Wow, you're mad, Charlie. Sure like to be around when you catch up with that fella.

MAC: Well it won't be on this trip. Not in Iowa. Even the great Professor Hill wouldn't try to sell them neck-bowed Hawkeyes out here.

MATT: Oh boy, now we'll get complaints from the residents of the state of Iowa. Are you happy, Macavity?!

CORI: (offstage) Boooard!

(The stranger, who had gone unnoticed during the whole "rap" dialogue, grabs his winnings and his suitcase.)

TUGGER: Gentletoms, you intrigue me. I think I'll have to give Iowa a try.

MAC: Don't believe I caught your name.

(The stranger turns around. He is a vibrant, energetic tom with a suitcase bearing the name PROF. HAIRBALL HILL.)

CARB: I think we need a break. Matt, next time WARN ME when I have to talk that fast!