Transcription:Down On Your Knees, I'm the Piano God

[outside shot of Davey drowning in the bay, cuts to inside where Billy Joel is singing his song.]

BILLY JOEL: Pete is a real estate novelist.

PETE [while typing on his laptop]: Hey, that’s me!

BILLY JOEL: That’s a cute way of saying “Pete’s broke.”

[PETE looks upset.]

BILLY JOEL: I’ll laugh at his life while I’m humping his wife,

PETE: Sheila?!

BILLY JOEL: Cause Pete’s tiny shlong is a joke.

[PETE looks horrified.]

BILLY JOEL: ''My piano, it sounds like God’s symphony! And my microphone smells like the poor.''

[A man puts money in BILLY’S tip jar.]

''They put bread in my cup and their lives all suck. If I quit this gig, they lose all interest in living Since life would have no meaning and They’d blow their brains out on to the floor.''

[The crowd begins to boo.]

La, da, di, da, da!

[BILLY pulls out a gun while singing and the crowd falls silent.]

''La, di, di, dolly da!

Down on your knees! I'm the Piano God! Pray to the songs that I’ve sung! Tell me I’m too good to work here! Then put my balls right on your tongue!'' [The song ends with a shot of BILLY smiling.]

[outside the bar, BILLY counts his “earnings”.]

BILLY JOEL: Great. All singles.

PETE [offscreen in a creepy voice]: Hey Joel!

[PETE comes up from behind and stabs BILLY repeatedly until BILLY finally falls over dead. PETE wipes his brow and sighs happily. PETE’S phone rings and he answers, also happily.]

PETE’S AGENT: Pete? This is your agent! The publishers loved your novel! Time to quit the real estate biz, brother! Oh, by the way, the hospital called, and your wife died of crotch rot. Sorry, man.

[PETE closes his phone. The shot switches to overhead as PETE looks to the sky and yells:]

PETE: POETIC JUSTICE!!!!!