"And it was as if by some harrowingly real sense of primal instinct that in the moment his eyes became adjusted to the gravity of this extreme situation, he shat himself; a torpedo of fluid shit seeped desperately only with a means to escape from his well envisioned trousers."

"I happen to believe (and not fondly, I might add) that we, as Humans, inhabit a rather mundane arm of the Universe and y'know, I'd like to think that out there, way beyond where the very pinnacle of our imaginations fail to grasp, there's an arm...or a leg...or a testicle of space wherein which the appearance of a dialogue box (not seen since Amstrad times) would be a unextraodinary and everyday occurrence."

"But it was entailed alright! A triple threat of trouserial (trou-zeerial) decimation within a nebula of shatagorical improbability! There were no excuses any more: the trousers were being punished!"