Steve: Map? What fucking map? The studio's right over there. No one said anything about a fucking map!

Neal: (muffled, from a distance) Of course, you would manage to get us lost in a fucking greenbelt, Perry. (Remainder too muffled to transcribe)

Jonathan: You guys...can we not fight, please? We gotta work together. Look, there's a little stream that runs through here, and if we follow it back the way we came...

Steve: The stream runs north to south. We came from the south. We'll go south.

Neal: You're the one who got us lost. I say we go east.

Steve: You don't know your ass from a hole in the ground, brillo head. We're going south. I know where we are!

Neal: If that was true, then we'd--

Jonathan: You guys...please. It's gettin' dark. Let's just start walking and get the hell out of here.

Neal: If we don't show up by dark, Ross and Smitty'll come lookin' for us. Kevin will notice...

Steve: What the fuck is that!?

(Tape runs in silence for several seconds)

Neal: I don't...fuckin'...believe this. Who's idea of a joke is this?

Jonathan: (speaking directly into recorder) There's...things, hanging from the trees up here. Can't tell what they are, yet...hey, that looks like...

Neal: They're copies of Departure.

Jonathan: No way, Neal.

Neal: Yeah. Yeah, that's the Japanese import, right there.

Steve: Christ, there must be...thousands of 'em.

Neal: Who would be so screwed up that they'd have more than one??

(Crackling sounds, like branches snapping)

Jonathan: Neal, NO!

Neal: I'm just takin' one down....

Jonathan: Don't disturb it. We shouldn't be here.

(What follows next is several hours of tape during which the band members curse nonstop at each other, complain about the cold and dark, and generally bitch about being lost.)

Jonathan: Maybe we should just stop. If someone's looking for us, we're just making it harder.

Steve: Did you guys hear that?

(Silence; then a distant snapping sound)

Neal: Shit.

Jonathan: Hello?


Neal: Shit.

Steve: HELLO?


Neal: It's fucking squirrels. Or squirrels fucking. Never mind. I got a lighter, let's make a fire out of something.

Jonathan: Neal, don't do it!

Neal: Come on, this album cover is the only paper for miles. We gotta start the fire with something.

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Steve: (whispering) I heard that. I heard that. Oh shit!

Jonathan: Shh.

(Silence; then in the distance, barely audible, the sound of someone singing 'Anyway You Want It')


(several minutes of incoherent screaming and running through the bushes follows)

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape continues)

Steve: Now we're really lost. Neal, you tripped me like half a mile back and I think you broke my goddamn arm. What the hell did we see? Guys? What did we--


Steve: Neal?


Jonathan: Neal??


Steve: Shit, this isn't funny. He was right behind me.



(Several minutes of screaming for Neal go unanswered)

Jon: Oh, my God.

Steve: They got him.

Jon: Don't start talking like that. We just got separated, that's all....

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Steve: two...still alive. Still no sign of Neal, still no one looking for us...I mean, this is goddamn California. We should have been crossing a freeway every ten yards. I don't get it.

Jon: Quit talking in that thing and come on.

Steve: I have to get this all on tape, so someone knows what happened to us...

Jon: We're gonna get out of here. Shut that thing off.

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Steve: (whispering) It's dark again. We walked all damn day, and no hikers, no planes going over, nothing...and we ran into that same stream again. We're going in huge cir--


Steve: Jon?

Jon: I heard it. There's something out there.


Steve: Fuck. Oh, fuck...

(Tape begins to pick up distant sound of screaming/sobbing)

Steve: Oh no.



(More screaming and running through the bushes. Then tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Steve: (whispering) We walked all night...never saw anything...didn't find Neal...fell asleep under some trees. I just woke up, and there's this bundle of...sticks right by our legs, and...

(shuffling noises)

Oh, shit. Shit. It's tied together...with Neal's underwear. Never mind how I know it's his underwear.

(more shuffling)

I'm just gonna...put it over here, where Jon won't see it. Shit. What's this?

(recorder is jostled, as if it's being put down)

There's something tied in here...oh shit. Oh no.

(More shuffling, punctuated with muffled sobs)

It's full of...guitar picks.

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Jon: Steve? You okay?

Steve: Yeah...I'm just washin' my hands off in the stream.

Jon: You ready to go?

Steve: Yeah. Okay. We're gonna try east today again, since south wasn't working...

(Tape cuts out)

(Tape resumes)

Steve: What is that?

Jon: It's a Tower Records.

Steve: No way.

Jon: Way. But what the hell is Tower doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

Steve: This is bad. Very bad. Look, it's partly fallen in. I think it burned down or something. Let's go the other way.

Jon: No, we gotta see if there's anybody...

(Crunching noises from stepping on broken glass)

Jon: The CD's are out of alphabetical order.

Steve: They're also from the 80's. Not one is newer than 1983.

Jon: Oh my God. Look at this...


(Tape picks up sound of somone shouting for Steve and Jon from a distance)

Steve: NEAL?

Jon: Neal, we're coming!!

Steve: He's downstairs!

(Sounds of running, more distant yelling)

Steve: Jon? Jon, where'd you go?


Steve: Jonathan? Why are you standing in the corner? That's the Ska section....OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! NO! NO! IT'S YOU! IT'S--

(Tape is still running but the only sound for several minutes is the Buggles' 'Video Killed The Radio Star')

(Tape cuts out)