Sunday February 19, 2006
HTRN Host 1:Whoa, ladies! Lookin' sharp!
Serge:Did you just buy that outfit?
Elf:Yeah. You like it?
HTRN Host 1:Oh yeah! Just not on you, baby. Who cuts your hair?
Serge:Your hair! Who cuts it? The crew-mullet has gone out of style so many times in the last thousand years, it never really was IN style.
Serge:Honey, I can tell that you're trying to look good, but you obviously don't know what you're doing.
Doctor Bunnigus:Elf, let's get out of here. They're not worth the trouble.
Serge:And please tell me you're not taking fashion advice from your friend the street-walker. Anybody can see that body of hers was created by a very lonely genetic engineer.
Doctor Bunnigus:. . . Or, you know, we could just kill him here.
Elf:Bunni, stay out of this.
Elf:Lemme tell you something about my haircut, pal. Yes, I cut it myself.
Elf:It needs to be short, because I can't have it in my way during combat. You see, I'm a mercenary. A professional killer.
Elf:Today's your lucky day, though. I'm off the clock. I'm going to let you live because there's no money in killing you.
Serge:Whoa, easy with the threats there, girly! You're on camera right now! It's "Glamour Assault!"
Elf:Really? Television? Where's the camera?
HTRN Host 1:That's right, they all wanna make love to the lens in the end.
Serge:We've got three remotes, and one right here in my tie-tack.
Serge:Smile for the world, sweet-cheeks
Elf:That's all I needed to know, thank you.