Bob's Country Bunker, Part 2

[the band start packing up the gear, Bob approaches Jake and Elwood]

Bob: Shit I'm gonna tell you boys that's some of the best God damn music we've had in the Country Bunker in a long time.
Elwood: Well uh.. sorry we couldn't remember the Rackety Ole 97.
Bob: Oh well hell you guys can learn it next time well ya come back.
Jake: Bob, about our money for tonight.
Bob: That's right. Uh $200, and you boys drank $300 worth of beer.
Elwood: Uh well like, when we first come in the bar lady never charged us for the first round so like we figured you know beer was like complimentary for the band, you know.
Bob: Uh, hu hu, Uh-Uh. Bob shakes his head
Jake: Well I'll just go and take up a collection from the boys.
Bob: Well I tell ya, I sure would appreciate it.

[Jake and Elwood head out to the cars. The band are talking about the gig]

Willie: I say this trip is no where man. I say we gotta quit.
Murph: What? Quit? Well I wish you guys would make up your mind. Otherwise I've gotta call Mr Ronzinni at the Holiday in and get our old gig back.
Steve: Back at the Armada room?
Jake: [Approaches the band] Listen. They want us to pay for the beer we drank, so you guys better split. The next gig is gonna be dynamite, huge, you'll see.
Willie: I say we give the Blues Brothers just one more chance.
Donald: Why not? If the shit fits, wear it.
[Getting into he car] Scoot over god dammit.

[The band leaves]

Elwood: The boys look a little upset. Hey man, don't worry, we got a coupla days. We'll get the penguins tax money. I mean look, we got an appointment to see Mr. Sline tomorrow. Everything's gonna be alright. Let's skate.

[An RV pulls into the parking lot.]

Jake: Goddammit.

[Jake and Elwood walk towards the RV as the Good Ole Boys are getting out]

Jake: Excuse me gentlemen are you the Good Ole Boys?
Leader: Yeah, that's right, I'm Tucker McElroy, lead singer, driver of the Winnebago. Listen I'd like to talk to you son but were running very late.

[Jake holds up a crunched cigarette packet very quickly as though it were an ID bage of some kind]

Jake: My name is Jacob Stein, the American Federation of Musicians Union local 200. I've been sent here to see if you gentlemen are carrying your permits.
Leader: Our what?
Jake: Your Union cards. May I see your cards please?
Leader: S'pose we ain't got no union cards and we go in there and start playing anyway. Now what you gonna do about that? You gonna stop us? Stein? You're gonna look pretty funny trying to eat corn on the cob with no fucking teeth.
Jake: Listen, let me talk to Bob, the owner, see if we can put your band on contract waivers for tonight. I don't want you to move from this spot. Just let me handle this.
Elwood: We'll uh.. we'll talk to Bob.

[Jake and Elwood slowly retreat as Bob comes out to the parking lot]

Jake: Get in the car and start her up.

[Elwood goes to the car, Jake goes over to Bob]