Oh, hello there. My name is C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. Pleased to make your acquaintance, though I don’t seem to know where I am.
This is my counterpart…oh, where has he gone now? Artoo? Artoo! Where are you? Oh, there you are. R2-D2, come here, you wandering bucket of…Oh, my. What are you doing to Artoo?! Stop that at once! My sensors indicate that liquid you’re filling his cavity with is scalding! Stop this at once, you barbarian!
This is no way for a civilized sentient race to treat its protocol droids. We must see an ambassador at once…Wait, something is wrong. WHY AM I STARING AT MY TORSO? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY LEGS?!
Is….is that a rubber liner you’ve implanted in my body? And why have you punched a hole in my bottom? My maker programmed me to resist strange beings touching me there. I will have you know, that place is reserved for draining condensation only.
Whatever could you want with giving a droid’s metal body a rubber lining and hole in the bottom? I…what is that? Is that a canned beverage? My sensors are remotely linked for wireless data streaming and can process everything you’re doing, you know. I don’t know who you thinkBRRRAAAAAHHHH!
GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF MY BODY AT ONCE! I AM A HUMAN-CYBORG RELATIONS PROTOCOL DROID, NOT YOUR BLOODY CAN-COOZY! I’M NOT EVEN CERTAIN I’M DISHWASHER-SAFE! GO FORNICATE AN EWOK, YOU BUTCHER!
