[The camera cuts in on Mike, hands on the wheel and foot on the gas. It's kind of loud in here, too! Which, if you look at the merrily neon-green holo-speedometer, is because he's coasting along at 250 miles per gatdamn hour.]
Okay, so half an hour into total barren wasteland and the Duke pulling some wacko "Mike Chilton versus Aliens on the Moon" prank is looking way less likely. Which means I ammmmm... on another planet, talking to whoever's on the other end of this Link thing.
Right. I have no idea how I managed to fall through dimensions in the middle of the night. That is... kind of a new one for me. Anybody out there in radioland want to give me some layman's term answers? The welcoming party here was kind of chilly.
I really hope you guys have gas here. Getting Mutt here down the mountain was kinda rough drivi--
[He cuts off mid-sentence, having just blasted the car right over the top of one of the spires of rock jutting out of the ground.]