Come on, guys. Someone's gotta have a diabolical plan. What's the point of having a think tank if no one has any ideas?
I'm not sure this is a think tank, Snaptrap.
What are you talking about? We're thinking, and we're in a tank. Plus, I'm wearing a tank top. Now, somebody come up with an evil plan before we run out of air.
[through speaker] Verminious! What did you do to my toe cream?
It's under your bunion cream, Mom! It's gross, guys. Her feet have more bumps than the surface of the moon.
Verminious! How many stamps do I need to send an email?
Boy, mom's are the worst.
Yeah, tell me about it. This one time I didn't clean up my room, and my mom tried to turn me into a pair of boots.
My mom was equally horrid. Her crumpets were dry and lumpy.
I love my mommy. She's cool. She always takes care of me when I get hurt.
I hope you have her on speed dial. Hey, all this mom talk gave me an idea for a diabolical plan. We'll build a giant space laser, point it at my house, and when my mom's looking up at it, I'll run away from home!
Or we could just send all the mom's in Petropolis to a deserted island.
Why would we reward them from being super annoying by taking them to a whimsical all you can eat dessert restaurant?
Not Dessert Island. A deserted island.
Ooh, I like it! All in favor of ridding Petropolis of all mom's, stand up. Hey, guys, what are we all doing in this tank?
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