Hydrogen: General DeLukas, or as he prefers to be called, Big Gzy D-Bone Kumanawanahua.
Trillaphon: Huh, I guess it's Hawaiian shirt day at Space Marines HQ. Ah, come in Sgt., have a seat. I believe you've already met my orderly Mr. Mustafa and my lovely Bottom Bitch, Lolo.
Hydrogen: SIR, PERMISSION TO HANG LOOSE SIR!
Trillaphon: Permission granted. Now for God's sake get yourself into some Billabong shorts and grab a lava flow before I have you busted back down to taro-picking duty, soldier!
Hydrogen: It's not everyday you see a raging alcoholic who only drinks fruity tiny umbrella cocktails.
Trillaphon: I AM YOUR SENIOR DRILL INSTRUCTOR AND CERTIFIED LIFEGUARD GUNNERY SGT. MOONBEAM, AND THE FIRST AND LAST WORDS OUT OF YOUR FILTHY SEWERS WILL BE BRAH!
Trillaphon: Wait, did he just say that mai tais are "very sweet and very rare"? Because that is pure fucking madness.
Hydrogen: You see, it's the future. The mai tais were wiped out during the Tiki Bar massacre of Molokai VII.
Trillaphon: We lost a lot of good cocktails that day...
Hydrogen: ...what did you do, sir? Back before the war.
Trillaphon: I was a bartender at Applebees, son.
Hydrogen: I'll bet you made a mean Fuzzy Navel, sir.
Trillaphon: You're goddamn right I did soldier. But that was another life.
Someone told TIME magazine about trolling and now we all just have to deal with it.
If that boy isn't willing to shoot his laser and get you that carbon, he's not worth your time.
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