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Keith: “Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: Voldo wants us to track down his four best henchmen, who went into hiding after the robots won, and recruit them back to the cause?”

Femme de Pain: “Oui. Est ce ce que j’ai dit.”

Keith: “Lady, don’t shoot me that look like I’m the dumbass for not understanding your ridiculous almost-language. Probably an actual French person would only barely understand you.”

Hairbrush Santa: “Look — a tree, signifying that we’ve left town. We should be close to where Guy kept his safehouse.”

Keith: “What guy?”

Hairbrush Santa: “Voldo’s third in command.”

Keith: “Well, shouldn’t you give him the respect he deserves, and call him by his name?”

Hairbrush Santa: “Dammit kid, don’t try and start a Who’s On First with me. It doesn’t even work, because the name’s pronounced ‘Ghee’.”

Keith: “Wait a minute, wait a minute… Is he French?”

Hairbrush Santa: “Kind of? He’s a chef. Maybe. He’s got a chef hat anyway, but the rest of his outfit is a tuxedo with the sleeves torn off. He’s kind of a weird fella. Ho ho ho!”

Keith: “God, I hope he speaks French. I don’t mind so much being ordered around by a beautiful woman, but I’d like to know what those orders actually are once in a while.”

Femme de Pain: “Si vous continuez à parler de moi comme si je ne suis pas ici, vous creuserez vos couilles hors de votre cavité de sinus.”

Keith: “See what I mean?”

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