Robots
Robots

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.

Robots
Robots

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!

Robots
Robots

Crank: [Mr. Copperbottom is playing badly] Well there goes our happy ending.
Fender: Yo, it's a fusion of jazz and funk. It's called junk.

Robots
Robots

Rodney Copperbottom: Well, then why is she called Aunt Fanny?
Fender: Couldn't call her Aunt Booty.

Robots
Robots

Fender: Oh, it used to be a lot worse. They used to have this giant hammer...
[Rodney screams]
Fender: Hey, they brought it back!

Robots
Robots

Fender: Well, good luck in the big city. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, and if you can't make it here, welcome to the club.

Robots
Robots

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.

Robots
Robots

Crank: Never try, never fail. Those are the words I live by.

Robots
Robots

Fender: I know that sounds bad, but I'm just doing musical arm farts. You know how to do those? They're hard to do because we're made of metal, but that's where the skill comes in.

Robots
Robots

Bigweld: You can shine no matter what you're made of.

Robots
Robots

[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.

Robots
Robots

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]

Robots
Robots

Fender: If I seem to be getting smaller, it's because... I'm leaving!
[runs away with Rodney's foot]

Robots
Robots

Fender: Is there anything for me?
Mailbox: Oh, I've got something for you.
[slaps Fender]
Mailbox: That's from my sister!
Fender: I recognize the handwriting.

Robots
Robots

Rodney Copperbottom: Why do you have two noses?
Fender: One's for showin', one's for blowin'.

Robots
Robots

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!

Robots
Robots

Watch: Don't buy us. We're fakes.

Robots
Robots

Fender: [to Rodney] You can bunk with me...
Fender: [in a campy voice] we'll ignore the gossip!

Robots
Robots

Fender: Stick with me, kid. I know this town like the back of my hand.
[sees the back of his hand]
Fender: Hey, that's new.
[gets hit by the giant hammer]

Robots
Robots

Fender: [his arms have just fallen off] Oh, no, look at that, now they're arm wrestling.
[the arms are wrestling each other]
Fender: Could you please separate them? Hurry, my back itches.