— What's wrong with me?
— You're an annoying, whining man-child.
— That question wasn't directed to you!
— What question?
— Hey Keith.
— You came to your house while I'm packing all my stuff, even though you promised not to be here.
— Awesome. Well, you know you can't take my word. I mean, I also promised to marry you last Saturday, right? Right?
— Well well... Look who has come crawling back, through the desert of shame, to the oasis of hope. Begging for just one sip, of cool Janitor forgiveness. Well... the answer's no.
— Please, Janitor!
— All right, I'm in. Dog gone it, I cannot resist that adorable mug of yours. I'd have to throw a cup of acid on it, to keep it from having power over me.
Barbie... there you are! You're standing sideways so I didn't see ya!
I would give her a shot, Perry, but this... is scotch, and I'm all Hasselhoffed out.
— So, how's Keith?
— Carla. Pig whore.
— Better actually. Used to be "Stupid Pig Whore". It's only been a few days and he's already dropped an adjective.
— Wow! Maybe by the weekend you'll just be "whore".
— Ok, all we have to do here is kill space goblins.
— And what's my motivation?
— You're motivation is to kill space goblins.
— Yeah, but like killing them because I hate them or because I don't share their space goblin values?
— Whatever you want.
This is the end of our relationship, but it's sorta just the beginning.