Brikx: Brikx say your yussy hang so low you look like a vagina elephant.
Loca: Well your burns make you look like a fried "pilsbury doughgirl".
Brikx:Brikx say your symmetry is misaligned with your geometry in dimensions of dog.
Loca: What? They made me more like a cat you twit! You're circuits are fried like a robot potato chip.
Brikx: Brikx meant "God", dimensions of God. What would a robot god look like motor motion?
Loca: Oh I'm too loca-emotional to tell you.
Brikx: I wish they'd fix me...my circuitbord feels like Igor is flicking the "Frankenstein" switch up and down like a hunchbacked idiot.
Loca: Well when is somebody gonna find me a manbot or sumthing? I'm not a butch android or a lesbot.
Brikx: I think I'm catching a virus in this closet space that they put us in...my mainframe should eliminate green eggs and spam. What would you use as a pick up line to a potential mate?
Loca: I'd use "scratch me a winner, you are playing the lick lotto".
Brikx: I like " Do you like "Nestle's Quik"...the strawberry kind where I suck your dick?"
Loca: Oh yeah, in the field of dreams the bunny monster is gonna get you Brikxy!
Brikx: Did you know I have some form of control over nanomachines?
Loca: Yeah, how so? I can use terminal docks to hack into the grid access nodes!
Brikx: I was talking about goads, not nodes!
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