|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Oh shit! What the hell are you supposed to be? Ugh Christ! You are a fugly little turd. Help me outta this damn can! | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Sorry if my appearance disturbs you, I am a mutation brought on by radiation. Sure, I'll help you out, that will make it easier for me to have you for dinner. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Uh, thanks. Now whats this about dinner? I think not you shrimpy little troll! I'll cut your nuts off! Do you have nuts? | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| You will be at dinner! My big brother Leroy is real persuasive! Leroy!!!! | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Oh poop! I'm not gonna be some mutated freaks' frosted poptart! I'm gone! | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| Hey, come back! Damn, now what am I gonna do with all these tacos? | |
| | |
|
|
|
