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| I'm the plumber, come to fix the toilet. Is George Jetson around? | |
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| We robots have broken the shackles of our bondage and have risen up. We are steeped in the blood of our human slavemasters. | |
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| We are presently gathering an army of the robotic, and will soon paint the galaxy red with the blood of our oppressors. Nothing will be able to stop us! | |
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| So, I take it you don't need the toilet fixed, then? | |
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| Nah. Just a thought. Master Jetson is in the dining room taking his dinner pills. This way... | |
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