Hot Nutz

[Intro — fingerpicked blues guitar, roadside ambience] [Male spoken voice — casual] Now, this woman pulls over, looks at my little handwritten sign, looks at the pot, looks at me— Says, “What exactly are you selling?” [Beat pauses] Peanuts, lady. Jesus Christ. [Acid bass enters] [Verse — loose talking-blues] Got a folding chair sinking in the roadside sand, steam coming up, five bucks in my hand. Gandy traffic blowing grit in my teeth, one decent patch of shade, and I’m underneath. She says, “They’re wet.” I say, “They’re boiled.” She says, “They’re soft.” I say, “You’re catching on.” [Female voice] Give me the spicy ones. [Hook — robotic, increasingly distorted] HOT. WET. SALTY. GET ’EM WHILE THEY’RE HOT. HOT. WET. SALTY. WHAT YOU GOT IN THAT POT? [Instrumental — crunchy guitar stabs, acid synth curls] [Verse — amused, rhythmic] Afternoon thunder, everybody scatters, I’m holding down the tent like my whole life matters. Rain blows sideways, lid starts hopping, somebody leans out— “You still shopping?” Hell, I mean selling. It’s been a long day. Got half the damn Gulf coming under this canopy. [Female voice — impatient] Are the spicy ones ready? [Male voice] Woman, we’re in a hurricane. [Female voice] So… no? [Hard stop, then huge beat returns] [Hook — male and female call-and-response] HOT. WET. SALTY. GET ’EM WHILE THEY’RE HOT. HOT. WET. SALTY. WHAT YOU GOT IN THAT POT? [Extended instrumental — dirty swamp riff, pounding dance beat] [Bridge — close spoken voice] Sun comes back. Steam comes up. She’s sitting in my chair with a second cup. Says she’s got nowhere she needs to be. Well… that makes one of us. [Pause] But I sit down anyway. [Instrumental — warm blues phrase, bass keeps moving] [Final hook — crowd joins] HOT. WET. SALTY. GET ’EM WHILE THEY’RE HOT. HOT. WET. SALTY. THERE’S STILL SOME IN THE POT. [Outro — electronics dissolve into guitar] [Female voice] You here tomorrow? [Male voice] Look for the sign. [Robotic whisper] Hot… wet… salty…