Holy Zardoz. No? Mos Eisley? Could be. A Boy and His Dog? --
Oooh no, no-no-no -- nobody wants that -- Cloud City without the clouds? Astro Boy? -- one of those should do -- totally better than the weird space head that pukes guns down on
way too much mustache.
So the talking dog -- which we're going to get to in a minute, and then someone's going to tell me where we keep the space milk bones, because this guy is
the best -- tells me this is home now? Not the worst one I've had lately, so bonus points for that. It's not even full of bugs. But, right! Big questions time!
One: How is your waffle situation?
Two: How's your hot dog situation?
Three: Has anybody seen another Spider person around here? Red and blue costume, British accent, very nice abs, kind of stuffy, likes to be in charge, likes tea, answers to Spider U.K? Beuller?
Four: Are there cupcakes?
Five: Where would one acquire an iPod? I've learned they're kind of essential when bouncing around the multiverse.
Six: Seriously, where do you guys keep the milkbones around here? Because this dog is
awesome.
Also. Hey Knowhere -- that's what this place is called right? -- Spider-Woman -- or Girl if there's other spider's in the house -- we don't step on toes around here -- in the house. Space Head? Space head. Earth-Nine-Eight-Two representing.
Seriously. Thanks for whoever's in charge of shuttle dispatches. That was one of like, the best Taxi rides ever. Showing up in a bad neighborhood full of space rats, No traffic, and no stinky backseat? No annoying music or gum stuck to everything even? Queens could stand to take notes.