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Greg

Pickle: Attention mjart mart employees we need clean up on aisle 1 2

Pickle: 1 2 1 2 (beatboxing)

Peanut: Pickle i dont think were ready

Gramma Jail

Pickle: Whoa! What the...?!

Mr. Mjärt: Great job, Pickle!

Mam Mams: B-but sweet sir--

Mr. Mjärt: No lady buts. Keep up the great work, boys.

Peanut: Looks like another granny's goin' to the big house!

Pickle: Oh, man, jail? That sounds pretty intense. Peanut, this is all my fault.

Peanut: Aw, don't worry, It's probably some old lady jail where they make cupcakes and adopt cute pets there all day.

Pickle: Yeah, you're probably right.

Old Lady: Wrong! Old lady jails are black-harder than the devil themself, filled with the most hardcore grannies on the planet. I should've known. I just got out barely survived. (points to her right arm, which is gone) I lost my ding-dang arm for being a snitch.

Pickle: Oh no! What did I do?! (crying)

Peanut: Hey, hey. Who needs a happy helmet? (climbs on Pickle's back) You know there are more boo-boos than there were in a ghost town. (covers Pickle's face)

Old Lady: I think I'm feeling one of my fainting senses. (faints)

Peanut: Look, man. Maybe your ol' granny will be fine.

Pickle: No, she doesn't stand a chance, and I was her sweet bun-buns.

Pickle: We gotta make this right.

Peanut: Okay, okay... Oh! I got a plan! You got that warrior spirit?

Pickle: I think I'm ready. (notices the old lady on the floor) Uh, excuse me, miss? Are you still taking a nap, or can we help you?

[The old lady's ghost flies away.]

Old Lady: Nope, too ring-a-ding late.

[Scene cuts to Gramma Jail.]

Police Officer: If you're thirsty, there's the toilet.

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