"Yeah yeah, cooties, pink, yeah."
Annie clearly was barely listening to the whole 'actually it's the GIRLS who drool and not the boys' spiel that she was unceremoniously chucked into when all she wanted to do is approach that concrete mixer and eat the sweet grey contents inside.
"You kids clearly aren't cataloging what girls are really capable of when it comes to being absolutely awful, but go ahead."
Butch looks up from the empty bottle of hot sauce he's just dumped into the contents of the concrete mixer and shoots a glare in Annie's direction. It was bad enough that the wicked cootie witch decided to bother him and his brothers today, but now she wanted to partake in his delicious concrete lunch as well?
"Get'cher own concrete, lady!" he snapped, throwing the empty bottle at Boomer's head, where it bounced off and rolled away, "I found this one fair and square, and there's no way I'm lettin' you--"
"Shaddup, Butch, we don't care about your concrete." Brick flies over from the wall he's just finished tagging and plants himself in front of Annie.
"Listen, babe, just 'cuz you talk a big game doesn't mean you walk a big game. You know how many people go up to me daily and tell me they got what it takes to roll with the Rowdyruff Boys?" Well, actually, it was only Princess that one time, and there was no way Brick was letting her buy her way into his team. Even if she did have enough money to afford a lifetime's supply of jawbreakers.
See, that was the problem with girls in Townsville. The only one who ever got close to being hard enough to make Brick reconsider his stance was that blue Powerpuff Girl, and even then she was almost as big of a baby as her sisters.
"So why don't 'cha go cryin' back to your big brother Ace?"
"'Cuz last I checked, those bozos in the the Gangreen Gang called and were missin' one of their members."
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