Legs: Nick, that flower ate Sergeant Schlock! Shoot it down!
Nick: Relax, Legs. Da Sarge'll blast his way outta dat flower when he's good and ready.
Legs: Oh, that's right. He'll just use this plasgun of his. Silly me.
Nick: Yeah. He's a mean shot wit' dat t'ing.
Legs: I see that your brain was built by the lowest bidder.