KUSE: Mare, you're finally awake!

MARE: God, my head is killing me. What happened last night?!

KUSE: You drank thirty-seven gallons of wine.

MARE: Oh.


KUSE: Mare, would it bother you if I ripped out your intestines and choked you with them?

MARE: Bad time for jokes, Kuse. My head is seriously pounding.

KUSE: Who says I'm joking, bitch?


WHO SAYS I'M JOKING, BITCH?


MARE: AHHHHHHHHHH!


KUSE: Mare, wake up! You're having a bad dream!

MARE: No no no no no!


MARE: Huh? What's going on? Where am I?

KUSE: We're at Santa's barn, remember? We came to visit Waiterbot and Mista Snowman?

MARE: Oh yeah. Hey, would you mind taking off your helmet?

KUSE: Sounds kinky.

MARE: Just do it.


MARE: Whew.

KUSE: Was it that same nightmare? With the burned guy and all the yelling?

MARE: Yup. Almost two months of them now. It's getting pretty tiring.


WAITERBOT: Tell me Mare, how does it FEEL to be solely responsible for the escape of my sweet little Pear, thereby guaranteeing the deaths of us all?!

MARE: I let Pear escape?! How?!

WAITERBOT: Half a month without incident, then you two show up and everything goes to shit!


SANTA: Quiet Waiterbot. It doesn't matter where the fault lies. The important thing is that we complete our task of opening the Advent Calendar gifts, day by day.

WAITERBOT: Oh yeah? That's what's important? We've got a psychotic, fire-powered Mare running around, but what we really need to concern ourselves with are shovels and brooms and tiny horses?

SANTA: Mare, until we figure out where Pear went, you and I should handle the gift-getting duties. We're the only ones with hand energy.


MARE: I can't believe I let her escape. I'm such an idiot. I must be losing my touch.




MARE: Well this is nerve-wracking. Any sign of Pear?

SANTA: Nope. Maybe she hitched a ride to some faraway city?

MARE: I wouldn't count on it.


MARE: I'm really sorry about all of this, Santa. I can't believe I was so irresponsible.

SANTA: No worries. I'd classify myself as a raging alcoholic, too.

MARE: I'm not an alcoholic! I don't know where any of that came from!

SANTA: Forget about it. Let's just stay focused and grab today's--


SANTA: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


MARE: Oh my God! Santa, are you okay?!

SANTA: Fucking Christ. My hip feels like bubble wrap.

PEAR: That was for tying me up, dickwad.


MARE: You were tied up for a reason, sister! And you're not the only Mare with hand energy around--


MARE: AHHHHHHHHHHH!


PEAR: Nice shot, Stare.

STARE: Ugh, are we really settled on calling me "Stare?" I kinda hate it.

PEAR: Sorry, but I think it's cute and foreboding.


STARE: This was insanely easy. I thought you said these guys were tough?

PEAR: I exaggerated. I feared you would grow complacent if you knew how easy this would be.


STARE: What do you think? Kill them now, or perform our special magic trick first?

PEAR: The magic trick. Definitely the magic trick.


STARE: Pear, I guess we're about to know each other better than we ever imagined.

PEAR: Yup. Like the wimpy Constructicons merging into Devastator, we too can be so much more powerful...together!


....


SANTA: I think my pelvis and everything near it is broken.

MARE: Where did those evil Mares go?!

SANTA: Maybe they hitched a ride to some faraway--

MARE: Santa. No.


MARE: Uhhh...did that box just open by itself?

SANTA: Never a good sign.


R U READY 2 DIE? W-W-WE CAN OFFER THIS 2 U.


MARE: "We?" Is that the both of them?

SANTA: I've read about this. She's one of them Megamares, right?

MARE: No Santa, it's worse. That's a Doublemare!



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