Perhaps one of the stranger swaths of real estate in upper hell is the mountain range of keys.
Oh man my mom told me I was concieved there.
I was on a hiking trip there once. I, uh, lost my cell phone.
(I wonder if this is going to be on the test.)
Hmm. Interesting. Tell me, do you fuck like the dog?
So what you're telling me is that you're not the werewolf, but your brother is?
What? No, there's no werewolf. My brother's just -- *SIGH* put down the gun!
Yeah. And now I'm the one in the helecopter with the rifle. Start running you sorry bastard.
Yeah. And I'm not. For the last time, it doesn't work like that.
Neither of us are "werewolves". We are wolves that take the form of men. I'm starting to wonder why we bother.
...So, you took me up here because you thought I was my brother? God that just, ugh! I'm going back to the party.
"Here he comes/ here comes Speed Racer/ he's a demon on wheels"
Really? Why come paladins don't attack him, then?
Come to think of it, I've never seen him with the helmet off.
So, is the Mach 5 infernal technology, or what?
I knew it. He's always hanging out with that monkey!
"So that means that Racer X is!" "That's right. Satan."