Max Cannon

Okay, kids...while your mother is out of town you get to eat whatever you want for dinner. And, you get to eat in the TV room! Thanks, but we're not hungry, Dad. Not hungry...?! It's been six hours since we all went to lunch and you're both still growing. Don't you at least want a pizza? We both feel kind of sick, actually. Well, next time you'll listen to me, won't you? You don't order the cold sandwiches at a stripper bar. Everybody knows that.

*BELCH!!* *BRAAAP!!* Say what you will, but give me a two liter bottle of warm cola and a vibrating chair and I'm set for the entire evening.

Hey, Dad...what was your grandpa like? He was a wonderfully eccentric man. He probably would have lived to be 100 if he hadn't been torn apart by a herd of giraffes. Ha. Giraffes don't eat people, Dad. That's what we thought until we put him up on that fifteen-foot ladder after rolling him in acacia sap and fresh mimosa leaves.

Honey...do you ever wonder what you would do if you found out that you had only one week left to live? Every now and then, I suppose. So what would you do? Get a full-back dragon tattoo and have motorcycle sex with whoever is currently playing James Bond. That sounds incredibly specific. Seems like you've put some thought into this. That's only 'scenario eight.' You couldn't handle one through seven.

Good afternoon, K-REN. I just spent a most pleasant hour at the antique shop over in the BioTech Mall, looking for a gift for you. Seriously, Genetically-Modified Soy Beverage Distribution Man Dan? Absolutely. And it's perfect. I already had it sent to you. In fact, a micro-legion of nanobots should be installing it in your mitochondria as we speak. Not sure what it was, though. The old petri dish's label was too deteriorated to read clearly. Guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens.