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Mr Drakkhen continues his fantasy inside the Transportotron 2000.
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| Huh huh. Cool. A g.. g.. girl. | |
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| Whoa. Something smells like rotting meat.. | |
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Our hero gets jiggy wit' it.
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| Huh. Hey baaaaybeee. What say you and me go someplace cozy and #@*@#(@&##. I know you want to #)@(*@# my $*&#$$#. | |
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| Whoa, hold up. Number one, you need to get some pants on. Number two, the only way I'd ever #@^&@ with you would be if there was a nuclear explosion and we were the last two people on earth. K? | |
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| Huh huh. Thank you, Transportotron 2000, for making my dreams come true. | |
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