[heart-pounding martial arts soundtrack, maybe something from Switched on Bach]
Mouse: Hey! Looka this! Masque is fighting Ilaekae!
[Sound FX -- thumps, groans, labored breathing, muttered curses]
Mouse: Jeez, look at those neural kinetics! They look like a coupla shambling old street-side window washers!
Switch: They are a coupla shambling old street-side window washers.
Ilaekae: C'mon, junior, stop tryin' to make a real pitchur, and make a real pitchur.
Masque: I will enjoy seeing you die, Mr. Pennsylvania!
Cypher: Holy shit! Are they wearin'.... bell bottoms?!?!?
Apoc: And tie-died tees?!?!?
Tank(sniffing): Dozer, is there a fire on the Neb!?
Dozer: Shit no, bro! Why you ask?
Tank: Smells like... burnin' rope...
Trinity: Jesus, they're killin' each other!
Morpheus: I'm gonna go take another blue pill. Call me when it's over, will ya?
-- from The Matrix: Excessively Wrinkled, original daft shooting script
Opens THIS FRIDAY at dawn (or thereabouts), Thunderdome Challenge Arena!
Blood will be spilled!
Be there, or be equilaterally quadrilateral.
Andy, Larry, I'm so sorry, guys! Don't call the suits, eh, pretty please?