"Huh. Like, you’re kinda tempting me to want to try, but like, that’s so not gonna happen. Tickle fights are like, sooo many kinds of not cool."
"Then like, how about we skip the drama and just slap some pics of my face on a couple of boxes of cereal in the stores then buy out the rest between the two of us? It’s not like the management could catch us if we did. We could even make their entire orange juice stock ‘mysteriously vanish’ while we’re there."
"It isn’t feasible that you’ll drop the orange juice thing, I suppose?"
"You present a deviously intriguing prospect. I would have to be a shameless liar to deny my interest. Although … if we’re going to really make a bang up job of this operation, we will need to come up with a killer design for your cardboard debut. For that matter, we may as well overtake the label in its entirety …
"Switching the name to Coco Bluffs and making the cereal only semi chocolatey is an option.”
The only trouble is, I don’t believe you could personally reach a high enough octave to execute the correct “tee hee’s.” It has to sound vaguely like rodent speak.
You need Kronk’s squirrel scouts to summon me.
"Awww. Well, remind me to get a dental plan in the future. And… I like, can’t even tell if you’re messing with me on that one."
"Then let’s do this! Or like, at least go and buy some overly sugary American cereal. And chocolate milk…. Actually, how much money do you even make? We might not even need an elaborate scheme to get unlimited cereal. Or like, at least as much as we can eat.”
“Of course I’m not messing with you. Either that particular area has been cleansed of all its tickle properties, or—or I have managed to suffer through some sort of spinal trauma entirely unaware, or …”
"—how much money do I make? Enough to purchase a ludicrous amount of top-notch brand-name breakfast cereals, I assure you!"