*There go the cables.*
Rookery: Oh, bloody hell.
Rookery: Oh, what a mess.
Tony: I can't watch!
Rookery's Truck: I'm doomed.
Stone of Attamon: I'm free!
Tony: *whispering* I'm on it.
Rookery: Okay, I think I've got it now.
Rookery: Hey, give that back.
Tony: Sure, have this.
Rookery: Hahaha, back on top.
Rudolph: Tony! Up here! I've come to rescue you, but I need your help! Turn off the lights!
Tony: Got it!
Rookery: Hey, who's there?
Tony: *to himself* Think these are the right buttons.
Tony: Turn off everything that's flashing...
Tony: Think I should take care of that godawful stereo, too.
Rookery: Oh no you don't. Sit back down!
Rookery's Truck: I, Rookery's Truck, being of clearly unsound mind but hopefully sound body...
Rudolph: Take the hand!
Rookery: Get back here, sympathizing scum!
Tony: See ya later! I hope you like seafood.
Rookery: Oh, that bloomin' idiot.
Rookery's Truck: ...and please do leave to the undersigned the last of my owner's estate, the undersigned being the local police.
*Finally realizing he's royally fucked*
Tony: There he goes.
Rudolph: Hopefully that's the end of it.
Tony: We're the good guys. It's over for sure.
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