Y/n: Where do you think we go when we die?
Mohawk Mark: Don't know about you. No place would accept me. That's why I prefer not dying.
Y/n: What if they don't accept me either?
Mohawk Mark: Then come hang out with me. There's probably a bench at the entrance of hell. We'll smoke together.
Y/n: What if there's no bench at the entrance of hell?
Mohawk Mark: Then I'll be your bench. You can sit on me or something...besides, you know the ground in hell is probably hot. I can handle the contact better for you.
Y/n: ..what if your Viltrumite powers don't work there?
Mohawk Mark: Wha—damn it Y/n shut that mouth of yours or I'll bend you over right here.
Y/n: ...
Mohawk Mark: ...
Mohawk Mark: *Points somewhere in the sky* Damn it look over there! What the hell is that?!
Y/n: Where?!
Mohawk Mark: Hah, I told you not to talk.
*rıp*