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?
