Fender: You consider me a friend?
Rodney Copperbottom: Sure. What else would I consider you?
Fender: I don't know. An embarrassment? A way to rebel against your parents? A desperate cry for help? The list is endless.
Madame Gasket: Who are these losers?
Fender: We, sir...
Madame Gasket: I'm a woman.
Crank: Ouch.
Fender: [Scottish accent] We've come to rescue our friend, you evil bag of bolts, and you shall be defeated by the very outmodes that you scorn and detest!
Crank:
'Cause there's seven of us and only one of...
[hundreds of minions appear from behind Madame Gasket]
Fender: Let's see, there's seven of us and... eight? Nine?
Crank: Did you count that one?
Fender: I think so. Will you all quit moving around? It's so frustrating! I think I counted one of you twice!
Madame Gasket: While you're at it, count these!
[Ratchet's new outmode bot destroying machines come into view with Ratchet sitting on top of one of them]
Madame Gasket: As soon as we're done with you, these hit the streets!
Ratchet: This will be the last day any outmode will ever see!
Rodney Copperbottom: If anything goes wrong, we'll signal each other.
Fender: What kind of signal would you want? You want something kind of subtle, like...
[Whispers gibberish]
Fender: Or...
[Barks loudly like a seal]
Fender: Oh, how about this?
Fender: [Very loudly]
Caw-caw! Caw-caw! R-R-R-R-R-Ricola!
Rodney Copperbottom: Subtle.
[Herb has just been running through the town, yelling "I'm going to be a dad!" and runs into his house, where Mrs. Copperbottom is standing next to a window]
Mrs. Copperbottom: Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. You missed the delivery.
Herb Copperbottom: Oh!
Mrs. Copperbottom: [holds up a box with a picture of a robot on it] But it's
okay. Making the baby's the fun part.
Rodney Copperbottom: Hey Fender.
[Rodney does arm farts]
Fender: Yeah Baby, let 'er rip!
[Rodney and Fender are doing arm farts]
Crank: What are you guys, 3 years old? This is how a man does it.
[Crank does arm farts]
Piper: You guys are SO gross! Besides, this is how you do it.
[Piper does arm farts]
Aunt Fanny: Hey kids, get a load of this...
[does BIG farts; Everyone is grossed out]
Piper: Aunt Fanny, we were using our arms!
Crank: Ugh, light a match!
Lamppost: Lady... please... see a doctor...
Lamppost: [the lamppost passes out]
Rodney Copperbottom: This is our moment to shine, to show them what we're made of.
Fender: In my case it's a rare metal called afraidium. It's yellow, tastes like chicken... Buck-ah!
[lays an egg]
Fender: Whoa! Didn't know I could do that!