Ralph Dumain The Autodidact Project Firesign Theater Temporarily Humboldt County
CONQUISTADOR 1: Welcome to New Spain! This is your new father, Father Corona.
FATHER CORONA [with thick Irish brogue]: [Mutters in Latin.] Down on your knees now! Do you recognize what I’m holding over your heads, lads?
INDIAN 1: It’s a cross: the symbol of the quartering of the universe into active and passive principles.
FATHER CORONA: God have mercy on their heathen souls.
CONQUISTADOR 1: What the Father means . . . is what is the cross made of? Gold! Have you got any?
INDIAN 1: No.
CONQUISTADOR 1: What about the seven cities of gold? Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas?
INDIAN 2: Uh, this is gold.
CONQUISTADOR 1: What’s that?
INDIAN 1: Corn.
CONQUISTADOR 2: Hey, corn! Now we can make tortillas!
CONQUISTADOR 3: We’ve been waiting for this for hundreds of years.
CONQUISTADOR 4: I’ve just invented tacos.
CONQUISTADOR 1: So this is all you’ve got?
INDIAN 1: Yes . . . but aren’t you the true white brother who’s supposed to come live with us in peace?
CONQUISTADOR 1: Sure, therefore I claim this rich world of pasture land in the name of the Empire of Spain!
CONQUISTADOR 2: Hey hey hey capitano! The rain . . . she’s-a stoppa to fall . . . and the corn . . . she’s all-a dead!
CONQUISTADOR 1: Shut up-pa, Vespucc’! I claim this stinking desert in the name of the Empire of Spain forever. Let’s go!
CONQUISTADORES (all sing): God bless Vespucciland . . . .
FATHER CORONA: By the way, domini domini domini you’re all Catholics now. God bless you . . . and good luck.
CONQUISTADOR 1: Come on, Father. Nobody in their right minds would live in this stinking desert.
CONQUISTADOR 4: Come on, Cisco.