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The Robots from Romar-7 descend to Collierville in search of Don Alsup, their last hope!
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| Don! We of the robot world need your help! | |
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| Sure thing! I'll be glad to help--what do you need, oil, lubricant, a ride to the mall? | |
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The bright glow of annexationism appears in the distance...
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| You see, our space camp is in Shelby County--for good reason: NO city taxes! Now they speak of annexation, and we haven't even finished mining the Utrillium crystals! | |
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| I know what you mean. I haven't even finished mining my next burger and fries. Ha ha! That's a joke! But seriously, I feel your pain. Or maybe it's gas. Anyway--to the White House--fast! | |
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Meanwhile, at the freakin' White House, of all places...
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| Our future is in YOUR hands Don, a scary thing yes, but we can take a joke! | |
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| O.k. metal man, do as I tell ya. Tap your tin toes together 3 times and say...I wish I was in Frayser, I wish I was in Frayser! Betcha didn't know Don Alsup was the wizard! Good luck, my friend! | |
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