Fine. I don't even like your dimension, anyway. It's an asshole dimension. How do you like that?
ADAlternate Dimension Dr. Venture
Oh, nice potty mouth in front of the boys! Look, you're the Dean of this dimension, right? Explain to the untalented Mr. Ripley here he can't just waltz into my dimension and try to kill me with a rock and replace me just because I happen to have more hair, more money and a hit play on Broadway!
You'er both being paranoid. Don’t you see what this is? Its opportunity knocking at our door. [Looks at Ünderbheit] Who disfigured you for life, and help Girl Hitler steal your throne? [Looks at Impossible] Who seduced your wife, then passed her off to his brother for sloppy seconds? I’ll tell you who. The very same cretin who allied with his own enemies to thwart me at Cremation Creek, and the battle for the ORB. Gentlemen, The Revenge Society just landed itself its first assignment, kill Dr. Venture!
Wait. Okay, try it with his old headshot, all the awards, the signed picture of Loni Anderson, all the money, the newspaper clippings, the shoebox of old love letters, but without the Rush cassette.
Are you okay? Dr. O said probably insane now and that you'll never be the same.
VDr. Venture
Are you kidding? Okay, I'm just turning 16 and having a birthday pool party. My father invites every girl he knows, and I'm not talking about girls my age. No, not Jonas. He invites Playboy Bunnies and models and, I think, actual whores—you know, real prostitutes. So there I am in my giant bathing suit with nervous puberty oozing out of my gigantic pores. Just—just awful. So, the band suddenly stops playing and I hear "and now the man of the hour, Rusty Venture!" All eyes on me, right? Then suddenly, almost predictably, the Action Man shoots my groin with a shrink ray right as that fucking jackass Colonel Gentleman pulls my shorts down.
It works like this—if someone points a gun at you, you call the police. If a bunch of guys are pointing guns at you, you call SWAT. If they're in spandex and pointing a super laser at you, you call OSI. And if they're dressed regular and pointing a super laser at your daughter, that's when you call SPHINX.
We have no secrets here. When men live and work together, it's imperative that there are no secrets. I miss my breasts! Inside of me, there's a woman screaming to be heard.
MHMile High
I hit a dog with my car last week, but told the owner I found him like that.
Me first love. She left me for a bloke named Craig, who just slept with her and tossed her away. Haven't seen her since then. I heard she was with some go-nowhere mechanic named Jay.
What?! You know what, White. You are a starfucker. Yeah, you have the greatest friend in the world, and because he's not famous, you don't care. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Google "Andrea Dworkin" on an empty stomach one day. [Into phone] Oh, hello? Yes, I'd like six of your finest whores please. Fine, escorts. Yes, I think I'll go for full service. Sure, I'll hold. [To Billy] Anyway, because my dad brought, like, ten Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders as his date, he didn't care that my date was a huge, angry, "way smarter than a 16-year-old me" woman who called me "little half man."
It got worse, no shit. I ended up slow-dancing with H.E.L.P.eR. H.E.L.P.eR. [Into phone] Yes? Oh, lord, no, that's way too expensive. Uh, what about half-service? What about just a good-night kiss? On the lips? Cheek? Just a hug? Okay, four of that, two at half-service. [Billy starts waving at him] Wait. [To Billy] WHAT?!
