Is that a screwdriver in your pocket?

Tell me what you want now or the angel gets it.

We're not here to hurt you. As a token of good faith I'm going to unplug the power drill that I intend to use shortly on your kneecap. See? It's unplugged.

It's cordless.

Be that as it may. Now I need a token of your good faith. Put down the ring bologna, let the angel go and come down here and let me torture you.

Eww! He smooshed the ring bologna in my hair!

Quiet, Bubbles! You all have five seconds to clear out of my basement or I throw down the fish and chips. And take that Player bum with you!

Have some compassion, sir. We have an injured man down here. He's covered in fuzzy black beans and he's going into shock.

Did you know he tried to microwave one of my cats?

Nice ...

Everything ... is ... getting ... dark. I see a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel is ... Steve Young? ... Throw me the damn ball, a-hole!

He's delirious!

Listen here, Mr. Liker. The rancid contents of your refrigerator will have little effect on me. This violence is not necessary. We just want to know how to contact Old Donovan. He's supposed to be down in these tunnels somewhere in some sort of comfort station.

Well you took a wrong turn, Trexler. I don't know any Old Donovan.

Donovan? Donovan ... my friend ... is ... it ... really ... you? Throw me the damn ball! Don't get sick, Donovan. Throw me the damn ball!

He's doing sit-ups! He needs help!

Listen, I don't even use those tunnels, except maybe to go the the Brew Works. ... But there may be a guy ... I met a crazy vagrant down there a couple of times. He said he lives in the tunnels. He thinks he's a saint. He calls himself Onslo. Maybe he can help you.

St. Onslo? There used to be a St. Onslo. He was the patron saint of the urban underground. ... But he was downgraded.

Where do we find this Onslo?

I usually see him hanging around beneath the Hotel Grand or under the Hofbrau House.

Perhaps you could show us the way?

First tell Agent 86 here to put the drill back in its box. And lose the screwdriver, too.

What about the Player?

Toss him in that hyperbaric chamber with some extra strength Dawn. That'll take care of anything. ... Better set it for delicate.

Jeff Garcia? If it smell like a rat, it ... must ... be ... a ... rat.

You wouldn't have really used that ring bologna on me would you?

Nah. I was planning to eat it. ... Hey, is that a screwdriver in your pocket?

Maybe.

This man is a monster

Hmmm. Let's see what's in the fridge. ... What is that ... turkey? Sniff. Pretty slippery, but not too bad. ... Ah, cream cheese. Scrape that green crap off the outside of it and it'll be just fine. ... Beans? Eww! Those are pretty fuzzy ... better put them back. Hmmm. Is that sauerkraut? Cripes, it's moving! ... Jelly! That doesn't go bad, does it? ... Applesauce ... hmm ... oh my, not in this lifetime. ... I wonder if I shouldn't move the fridge into the temporal rift in the secret room. ... Probably no electricity in 1868, though. ... Hmmm. turkey, cream cheese and strawberry jelly. I think I have some Wonder bread left over from Christmas, or Labor Day. That doesn't ever go bad. ... Bingo! Find me one of those old Hess's bricks to put on top of the George Foreman grill and ... BAM! ... An Elena Ruz sammich! ... Whoa! What the hell! ... I think somebody's in the basement. Or something! All of Marge's crap is still down there. ...


I think I heard a voice upstairs!

What the hell! I know this place! This is Marge's crap. Those are her hyperbaric chambers. And those are her polar bear rugs ... the damn cats threw up all over them & picked out their eyes. And there's her dentist chair! Damn! This is Atown-Liker's basement.

Who the hell is down there? I've got a sword and the makings of an Elena Ruz sammich and I know how to use them!

He sounds violent.

I know how to handle this. Sir, we are not here to harm you. I just want you to put down the sword, and the jelly jar, and slowly walk down into the basement to be tortured.

Um ... no?

Hmm. He's clever. This is going to be harder than I thought. Rudolph, give me the explosives.

Explosives? You never mentioned explosives. I'm not sure we even have any in Santa's workshop.

Hang on, James Bond. I know this guy. He's my friend. I think he owes me some damn money as a matter of fact. Hey, Atown! It's the Player.

You? Get out of my basement, you self-serving bastard!

And he's your friend? ... All right, listen Mr. Liker. Here's how it's going to work. I'm going to come up the steps. You're going to put down your weapons. And I'm going to hold this screwdriver against your eye until you give me the whereabouts of Old Donovan.

Who is Old Donovan?

Wrong answer, Mr. Liker. Now I will be forced to put out your eye with the screwdriver and hold this hammer drill to your kneecap. ...

This fellow's got some nice tools down here....

Down! Down! Everyone take cover! He's attacking! ... Incoming!!

I'm hit! Oh Lord, I'm hit! Damn!


Oh good heavens! Those are the moldiest beans I have ever seen.

It stinks! It stinks! Medic!

Back off! I've got leftover fish and chips from Lord Wellington's Gate and, God help me, I'll use them! Do you know how long that place has been closed?

Oh my God. The nuclear option. We need more firepower.

Wait. Let me talk to him. ... Mr. Liker? Remember me? I'm your guardian angel.

You? I'd rather talk the psycho with the power tools!

It's true that perhaps I was not paying attention when your life took a turn for the worse. And it may have been true when St. Michael said everything I touch turns to poo, but I've turned over a new leaf. Just ask Gen. Trexler.

It's true, sir. She was my guardian angel as well. And although she was apparently preoccupied tinkering with a lute at the time of my demise -- and, really, if I might, she had plenty of time to see that truck coming -- she has recently been a positive force on my existence, such as it is.

And the Player has turned over a new leaf as well. Although he ran away when his friends turned against Marge, he did save me from being waterboarded by Ronan.

OK. You can come up to negotiate. But just you. Anybody down there moves and she gets it.

Oh my gosh. He's holding a ring bologna to her throat!

That's leftover from the 2006 primary election. This man is a monster.


I ... can't ... smell ... my ... cologne.