You've just returned from a trek through time and space, beyond Heaven and Hell, with six little people for companions, pursued by a Deity with a booming voice demanding the return of something or other.

White, in order to cast against type?

I'm thinking a classic 1890s vaudevillian jug-washboard-banjo-kazoo combo is what's needed.

(Vedder baritone)

Somebody & The Animal, with That Lady?

(hipster voice)

She's already to cool to spend time with olds.

(Removes lawn to undisclosed location.)

Yes, but how about a polka medley?

Deafening us with a piercing, high-hertz wheeze?

A fine sheen of sweat is usually gross.

Once, when I was giving plasma, I saw about ten minutes of a Mission Impossible film. It dawned on me that he was attempting to project a sort of menacing masculinity.

Are we sure that "Uproxx" really exists?

Boneitis will take care of it.

Why is that Timeo Cube guy always blaming the Jaws?

That notorious National Bocialist?

(Jon Lovitz voice)

Our whole family visited my sister in the hospital after she gave birth to my niece. She's now a charming, adorable 6 year-old that bears little resemblance to the screaming, wet, giant kidney bean I met that morning.

Arguably, it's Cronenberg's wellspring.

Two stars seems insanely generous.