|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Burrito Chuck: So, what the fuck are you supposed to be. A microwave? Say, how about you make me some nachos hoborg. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Married Autobot Chuck: Bitch what!?! | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Burrito Chuck: AAHHHH! NOT COOL! | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Married Autobot Chuck: MATRIX BOOM!!! | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| I smell like burnt day-old donuts! Who woulda known!? | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Married Autobot Chuck: This sucks! Can't something of substance happen already?! | |
 | |  |
|
|
|