Hydrogen: Urge to regurge, you say?

Trillaphon: The nag to gag?

Hydrogen: Yeah, you know, the hunger to chunder. The need to heave, the impetus to emesis.

Trillaphon: The gitup to spit up, the compulsion to do some expulsion, the kick to sick, the--

Hydrogen: OK, that's enough, we'll never top urge to 'gurge and you know it.

Trillaphon: It's just that it's going to take the world by storm and I want us to get in on some of that sick, nauselicious 'gurge urgin gag swag merch dirt.

Hydrogen: Moving on, I find myself wondering what Sean Astin lettered in here, exactly, aside from oddly poetic descriptions of human bodily functions.

Trillaphon: Something something taters precious.

Trillaphon: Seriously though, he looks like he's about to star in an all-doo wop Broadway revival of The Breakfast Club.

Hydrogen: Is it an alternate version of the Breakfast Club starring nothing but Lord of the Rings characters as teenagers? Because I'd watch that. Wise-cracking teenage Gandalf and his Fellowship of the Wedgie, stuck in Saturday detention by old man Sauron.

Trillaphon: And fried rats? Seriously? How could something like this happen under the watchful gaze of Comrade Colonel Lenin von Sanderstein?

Hydrogen: Don't know, don't wanna know.

Trillaphon: "Yeah, uhh, lemme get the #5 no lettuce, a #3 extra large with the coleslaw, and a 6-piece bucket of SATANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN"

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