X: Excuse me for being rude, but what shit is that?
Z: This is your mother, Lobo.
X: And who is this, my mother, Lobo?
Z: The invulnerable cosmic biker, a hunter of heads. Do you feel the crazy flowing from the screen?
X: No, I don’t feel it. I spend quite a lot of time behind the monitor, and so the roughness has long frozen on it with a thick crust.
Z is worthy.