What's your hurry? Your fifteen kids will still be waiting for you when you get home.
CCastro
[sarcastically] Si, señor. But first I have to go feed the donkey, put on a big sombrero and fall asleep underneath a tree. [back to normal] You racist Irish drunk. [Castro and his team walk off.]
(opening narration) Normal people who grow up with compassion never amount to anything. They're the ones who end up gluing those little dots on the highway, or putting glue on the dots for the guy who glues dots on the highway. But screwed-up people who weren't coddled or raised with compassion? Ho-ho! We get stuff done. Sure, we feel a little alone and abandoned, but we're (choked up) very happy. Why can't you love me, Daddy?!
Compassion is a disease, like polio, except compassion makes you nice, not withered and crutchy. I got vaccinated against compassion when I was eight, along with self-esteem and pride. Oh, and I got a booster shot for the ability to not stare at a dwarf.
Being a superhero is hard work. You have to wear those rubber tights in the summer when it's hot. Ehh. You have to hide who you really are by pretending you're the caring, supportive boyfriend. You have to make sure that no one discovers the true identity of... Your-Dream-Is-Stupid Man!
Christmas is a time of joy, love, and peace -- and a giant spike in the suicide rate. (with increasing aggressiveness): My father got all the Christmas joy sucked out of him by his cruel, vindictive mother because his drunken, partying father sucked all the Christmas joy out of HER! (the Christmas lights come on. Christopher stares at them, then stares back at the audience and sheepishly sings): Fa-la-la-la-la/La-la-la-la.