|SERVING SUGGESTION: Potted meat = mutant children people|
MICHAEL: All right, Petit. Tell us what you know about bright red hot dogs.
PETIT: Ah, the mighty Unbelievables need my assistance! How ironic. How delicious. Very well. Quid pro quo. I will tell you things and in exchange for my cooperation, you will tell me things. Do we have an agreement?
CLARK: I agree to grab you by your stubby legs and drag your head back and forth across the bars of this jail cell!
PETIT: Okay, that's...
JEFF: I will put a tiny sombrero on your head, hang you from the ceiling and hit you with a stick until candy comes out!
MICHAEL: I will punch your face so many times you'll beg me to kick your ass, just for the sake of variety!
PETIT: Listen, seriously, what is it with you guys and physical violence? Just once, couldn't we compete on a more clever, intellectual level, a battle of wit, vocabulary and elocution like a verbal chess match?
CLARK: Shut up, you ugly fat baby!
JEFF: Yeah! Talk, you hideous infant!
PETIT: I AM NOT A... Look, you can't harm me. Sure, on the outside of these prison walls you've beaten me to a pulp and hit me with cars and thrown me through plate glass windows more times than I care to remember. But in here, I'm surrounded by a phalanx of prison guards who don't give a damn about the vaunted Unbelievables. It would appear your 'justice system' has failed you; you see, I'm in here to keep the public safe, yet I'm the one being protected. Once again, how deliciously ironic!
MICHAEL: Yeah, we're almost done over here, guys (continues signing autographs and posing for photos with prison guards).
PETIT: (Sighs) Damn it!
It didn't take long after that, but further, um, discussion with Petit confirmed Jeff's theory that King Cotton was seeking to establish control over the minds of children for the purpose of making them serve as his mindless slave army.
|Already armed with weapons and swearing allegiance to their new overlord.|
Friday: The conclusion to The Case of King Cotton