*Sits at Mother of Invention's lunch table* Hey, Demon! The jerk store called, and they're all out of you! Poor you, stolen at the age of six and conscripted into the military, waaaaaah! Okay look, if you let me live, I got the Fist of Rukt. Look, I'll be the bottom. I'll polish your boots. I'll polish your helmet! It's the gas, haha! When I'm on the gas, I don't know what I'm doing half the time!