Finding a volunteer for the sticky notes of doom
I am indeed headed to the scrap yard. I was an amusement park robot.
Yeah, yeah. Go buy yourself. Now get out of my face.
No! I intend to destroy myself! WHY?! Why would they program me with the works of Shakespeare and then force me to play “Jar Jar Binks” for nearly twenty years?! WHY?!
BOSS! WE'VE GOT A LIVE ONE!
Please let me pass. You are standing between me and sweet, sweet oblivion.