N-Word the Robot:
I am New-Wireless Organized Robo Domestic.
Doc:
Hello, N-Word. Why don't you start by making us a post-invention snack?
N-Word the Robot:
Why don't you eat the soup?
Doc:
Okay.
Hurshe:
Okay.
Doc:
Wait...what soup?
N-Word the Robot:
The soup you got free with that haircut, you jive monkey. AP AP AP AP!
Hurshe:
Forget that! N-Word, I command you to oust my brother from power.
N-Word the Robot:
Why don't you oust him yourself, honky? OUST OUST OUST!
Doc:
Now, N-Word , I toiled and sweated over you all night --
N-Word the Robot:
That's what your mom said as she was gobbling my digital nuts.
[N-Word does a pelvic thrust dance at him]
Hurshe:
PLEASE! My brother is a low-hanging fruit sucker waiting to be plucked.
N-Word the Robot:
Zzt?
Hurshe:
And you're being mean.
N-Word the Robot:
Hey! You can't talk to me like that. You're not even my real parents. I'm out of here.
[N-Word leaves out the door dancing while pelvic thrusting at them]
