Robots Page #4

All right, break time's over.

Chop-chop.

Look who's here.

- Hi, Mom.

- Hi, sweetie. How's my boy?

Great. I did just what you told me.

No more spare parts.

In a couple of weeks, those broken-down

losers out there will be scrap metal.

You will be up to your bloomers

in broken-elbow junk.

Such a good boy.

And after you finish off Bigweld...

...there will be nobody

out there to fix them.

Exactly!

You wanna swing that one

by me again?

Idiot! Those outmodes look up to him.

- Suppose he decides to come back?

- Oh, come on, Mom.

- He's not gonna be trouble where he is.

- What are you afraid of?

Grow some bolts.

Or do you want to end up

like your father?

Hey, son. Good to see you.

Think what it would mean.

Not Bigweld Industries,

Ratchet Industries.

Keep talking.

Ratchet City!

Yes, everything shiny.

No more Bigweld, no more outmode.

Let's do it!

That's my boy!

Are you hungry?

Can I get you something?

- You look thin.

- No, no, no, Mom. I gotta go. Bye.

Bye, Pop.

So long, son.

Good luck with your dastardly plans.

Hey.

Hi there.

Listen, if I seem to be getting smaller,

it's because I'm leaving.

Foot, don't fail me now.

Stop! Hey, you got my foot!

Oh, great. Happy now?

Not until you give me back

my foot, you mugger.

I am not a mugger. I happen to be...

...a scrounger.

I didn't know you were

at the end of that foot.

Here, let me help you with that.

No, no, no, I'll do it myself.

I have my pride, you know. Over here.

Oh, no. No, not that close.

Hold on, hold on.

No. No, no.

What's the use? There's nothing left.

Hey, Diesel, I found you a voice box.

Here's another one.

That's no good. Give me that.

I can never find parts in my size.

What is it, boy?

Hey, Fender, have you lost weight?

Lost weight?

Look at where you're looking.

He's a head in a basket.

We're doomed, I knew it.

We're doomed.

Yeah, will you shut up, you neurotic nut?

Why, I'd smack you if I had a hand.

Wow, speak of the devil, here I come.

Dang!

Check this out.

Who would throw away

such a cute little doodad?

- Don't be scared.

- Hey, that's mine.

That's him. That's the guy.

I would know that face.

I know that face,

and I know that foot.

He's over there, moron.

That's the perpetrator.

He knocked my head off.

- You want another piece of me?

- All right, buster.

If you think you can mess with my

big brother, you're... You're kind of cute.

Piper, would you behave yourself.

Now, come on,

let's get Fender fixed. Again.

Here's your thingamabob.

By the way, the name's Piper.

Rhymes with "viper. "

See you around.

We've told you a hundred times:

"Don't talk to strange men. "

Thank you, Manuel.

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