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[to Ronnie] The frightening statistics of young earthlings mangling themselves in internal combustion vehicles on the night of prom ritual makes me insist that you use maximum safety awareness, return at the predesignated time coordinates, and, in fact, take my car. Its reinforced alloy superstructure is far superior to that of your broken down, rusted out shitbox.
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I find you unacceptable! If I did not fear incarceration by human authority figures, I would terminate your life functions by applying sufficient force to your blunt skull so as to cause its collapse!
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If, for some reason your life functions ceased, my most precious one, I would collapse, I would draw the shades and I would live in the dark. I would never get out of my slar pad or clean myself. My fluids would coagulate, my cone would shrivel, and I would die, miserable and lonely. The stench would be great.
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Maintain low tones with me, maintain low tones.
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You know, Connie, I read in a magazine that you can talk to me about anything.