Crow: Hey knock it off!
Tom: Oh, sorry. (as different images of Gypsy are shown) Ah, yes. Who does these things when we're too lazy, too bloated on dinners of rich food and generous portions of our own gargantuan ego? Who debugs the massive computer control center because our own feeble brains can barely add fractions? Who provides the warm, inviting water in which you could bathe your filthy oil-stained carcass? Who goes on mind-bendingly dangerous missions in the cold unforgiving space while you sit inside, cozy as Alistar Cook, sipping cocoa and watching Tiny Toons? Pinch yourself hard, Mr. Robot. You deserve it. You think you're all sunshine and goodness, but you're nothing but dirt between the toes of an evil troll. That's right. Who periodically changes the plutonium rods in the nuclear reactor deep inside the bowels of the ship while you feast on gooey handfuls of Fiddle Faddle and play hopscotch, and marbles, and it's spring, and the little goat-footed balloon man whistles far and WHEEEEE!
Crow: Hey just a darn blasting minute. What are you trying to do, lay it all on me? You're the laziest robot I've ever seen!
Tom: Oh, I see, It's me now is it. It's too painful to look into the deep dark truthful mirror, eh. You make me sick.
Crow: (as Gypsy enters) I thought you looked sick but it's always hard to tell with you. (surprised, embarrassed) I... gotta go clean my room now.
Tom: (also embarrased) I gotta go clean his room too!