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Buried Pomegranate: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Billy: Ahhhhh!!! My ears!!! What the fuck???

Gothic Trevor: The can! The can is screaming!

Mike: It's ALIVE! Oh holy Jesus it's ALIVE!

Buried Pomegranate: ...eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. *Rattle*

Billy: It stopped! Do you think it's dead? Did we kill it?

Jones: There'll be time for questions later. Now's the time to start shooting or start running.

Gothic Trevor: No way! This can is like a... a vampire or something! I wanna drink its blood!

Jones: It scared off my ostrich! Guys, seriously, code red!

Gothic Trevor: Pass me up a straw, Mike, I know you've got some.

Mike: What makes you think I'm carrying around a bunch of straws?

Gothic Trevor: You work at McDonald's, and you're a crook.

Mike: By "crook" you better mean "freedom fighter".

Gothic Trevor: Oh my god this shit is soooooo good! You have to try it!

Billy: This is indescribably disturbing.

Mike: You're not kidding. I think I'm gonna be sick.

Gothic Trevor: Suit yourselves. More for me!

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Billy: Did you hear that?

Jones: Don't say it!

Billy: Oh. Oh shit...

Jones: Okay; when I turn around, I don't want to see anything fucked up.

Billy: Holy mother of God...

Mike: Oh, hell no.

Jones: You have got to be shitting me, dog.
Spooookiwi: You fuckers are so dead.

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