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 | Ah, no, sorry Mr. Marsh. You cannot be allowed to join your wife, your friends, or your family onboard humanity's rescue rocket. Reports indicate you haven't stopped playing pocket-pool since it was announced the sun swallowing the planet. You'll need to stay here with the rest of humanity's swag. | |
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| Dude, I bet I can wack it right into your drink standing right here! Dude, seriously, lemme whip it out.. | |
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| Here comes the sun, Adoptive Father Marsh! May I now put on my panties? | |
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