That's a baby with a gun.

BABY.

WITH A GUN.

I'm calling the police.

They hung up.

It's a baby with a gun.

Comfort eating.

That's just sugar.

Aww, it's a baby with a gun!

BABY...WITH...GUN...

Who sent you? Was it Brian? I'll buy him a new turban.

Does my insurance cover babies with guns?

Oh, really?

GET OUT.

How about we trade?

I'll give you this, and you give me that.

Now, Isn't that bet—oh.

I'm really stupid.

Oh. It's not nice, is it? No, Huh?

I'm a MAN with a gun, what are you?! You're a BABY. You're NOTHING.

I'm sorry, that was mean.

You don't deserve that. You're young. Just take mine.

You don't deserve that. You're young. Just take mine.

Oh, now it's a baby with two guns.

Where's the baby? THERE's the baby! WHY DON'T YOU LEAVE?

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

I'm hiding in the fridge, now.

You know, I kinda want him to shoot me.

So when God's like "Hey, Tom, how did you die?"

I can be like "Oh, I dunno, God, maybe I was shot by

A BABY WITH A GUN."

[Baby laughs] [Tom]: Don't laugh at me.

You're sick. You're a sick baby with a gun.

Yeah. Not easy, is it?! Not easy to hit a moving target!

You have to leave.

[Baby gurgles]

[Guy behind door] Aw, look at this little baby, isn't— OH NO, IT'S GOT A GUN!

[gunshots]

I have to move.

[Baby laughs]