[The Mice have just witnessed their spaceship, still hanging from the Chicago Nubs scoreboard, fall completely inside.]
[bangs his hand to his head] Oh! Typical! Just great!
Well, if you're stuck here on Earth, this place will make as good a hideout as any.
What? Here? In the scoreboard?!
Why not? Limburger and his grease goons would never think to look for you here!
[The Mice confer with one another and approve it.]
Well, now that we've got the bachelor pad thing together, what do you say we grab a little chow?
I know a great cheese shop downtown!
[The Mice groan in disgust.]
What do you think we are anyway?
Uh, mice!
I was thinking maybe a few root beers. A couple of dogs...
Okay, group, then let's...
I got this one, sweetheart! [He tail-whips Charley onto his bike.] Okay, you mammajammers! Let's ROCK...
...and RIDE!
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