Boy: Bang! What are you doing? I shot you.
Boy: No you didn’t. It went past my shoulder. I moved just in time.
Boy: No. My bullet went right into your shoulder. The force of the bullet should have knocked you back to the floor.
Boy: No way! Your bullets are like needles. I can barely feel them. See, I can pull them out and flick them back at you.
Boy: No, you need a crowbar to get out my bullets. My bullets were designed with spikes that come out when the bullet comes in contact with human flesh. The bullet in your shoulder is clutching the muscle fibers around it. If you try to take it out, you’ll be ripping out part of your shoulder.
Boy: I am not human, so the spikes did not come out of the bullet. I am a robot from the future. We knew of your bullet technology so our organization sent me instead of our regular agents.
Boy: Ah, but you did not know about the explosives in the bullet. I came from another time line that you are not familiar with so you could not foresee the bullet ripping you into shreds in five seconds, four, three …
Boy: Then I will simply take off my arm and throw it at you!
Boy: Ha ha, stupid robot! I lied about the explosives and now I am in possession of your robotic arm. With this piece of technology, we will be able to create little robot toys that are able to transform into modern day automoblies. Now I can go into retirement and buy the island I’ve always wanted, and you won’t be invited.
Boy: I don’t care. Your island will be stupid anyways. We’ve foreseen it in the future. Some little man will climb a tower and scream at airplanes, “de plane! De plane!”
Boy: No way. My island will be a giant arcade with games like spy hunter and after burn and double dragon.
Boy: Well, my island will be better. Mine will have a bowling alley, go carts, and putt putt.
Boy: Your island will have Wendy on it too so you can kiss her all day long.
Boy: No it won’t. I don’t like her.
Boy: Yes you do. I saw you walking with her after school.
Boy: So? We live near each other. Why do you care? Do you like her?
Boy: No, you do.
Boy: I know who you like. You like Michael Jackson.
Boy: No I don’t. His hair caught on fire.
Boy: Pepsi cola burned him up!
Boy: Now he’s drinking 7 up!
Boy: Hahahahahaha!
Boy: Hahahahahaha!