Fed up with his inferiority to machines, Hermes replaces his body parts with mechanical upgrades.
Mmm, well, I mustadmit it's not bad.
And it will cuttwo or three hours a day
off my cornrowing routine.
Yes, our liveswill never be the same.
I'll be right back.
Hermes, oh,you foolish man,
what do you needa Cylon eye for?
Now, calm down, dear.
You know, you lookeven hotter in infrared.
Husband, some things werenot meant to be Cylonned.
Now, you must promise me
you won't be gettingany more upgrades.
And the best part is,the whole package fits neatly
in the spacewhere my giblets used to be.
I'm kind of a harpoon snob,
and let me say,that thing is gorgeous.
But do you really needchest artillery?
It's not just a weapon.
It's the bureaucrat'sbest friend. Observe.
(sing-songy):Oh, Mark 7-G?
Would you mindfetching that carton
from the top shelf?
(laughs)Pitiful and sickening.
Okay, little man,
let a professional bureaucratshow you how it's done.
My best wasn'tgood enough.
I'll need my personnelfile, please.
Welcome back, old friend.
I missed you terribly.
You do everythingterribly.
And I'm not your friend.
(laughs)Good old Hermes.
When he stops insulting,that's when I worry.
I was leaning over the sinkeating pureed clams
when my teeth fellin the disposal.
Scruffy, could youretrieve them?
'Taint a boilernor a toilet. Pass.
(sighs)I'll fetch my hand tools.
Hand tools? Why don't you get anextendo-arm implant, like mine?
Oh, no.No more implants.
I don't want to end up a cold,emotionless machine like you.
That's sweet, Hermes.
Maybe I should getan extendo-arm.