PV: Hi there.
G: Hello, sir.
PV: Wow, dude. I didn't realize you spoke.
G: Of course I do! Are you telling me you haven't seen the direct-to-video 1998 film "The Wacky Adventures of Ronald McDonald: Scared Silly?"
PV: Nah, I missed that one. To tell you the truth, Grimace, the only real experience with you came back in 1985. We met at the opening of a Flagstaff McDonald's back then. Do you remember me?
G: Ah yes, I never forget a face. I remember you well. And your little sister. She didn't think much of me, as I recall.
PV: Grimace, you scared the hell out of her. Linda was 5 years old at the time, and your very presence made her cry her little eyes out.
G: I have that effect on people. It's tough being a purple tub of fluffy goo.
PV: Oh, don't be so hard on yourself, guy. You also bring lots of smiles and laughter?
G: As well as juvenile heart disease and high cholesterol. I don't know how I've lived with myself all these years, peddling junk food to the defenseless little angels. I'm such a horrible person.
PV: You're a person? I always considered you as some sort of lake creature or perhaps a bridge troll.
G: Maybe I am. No one really knows where I came from. Have you ever seen anything else that looked remotely like me? And please don't say "Jabba the Hutt."
PV: Come on, Grimace. You look nothing like a Hutt. Don't be so hard on yourself. Jabba kidnapped people and froze them in carbonite. Jabba killed.
G: I have killed.
G: Yes, with a thousand little cuts. With my trans fats, sodium and carbs.
PV: Well, yeah, but like, compared to Joe the Camel, you're Gandhi.
G: Compared to Joe Camel, George W. Bush Gandhi.
PV: Yeah, but look at it this way. It's not so much your fault that kids worldwide are getting addicted to McDonald's thanks to your coersive image. A 5 year old can't quite drive his tricycle through the drive-thru. Blame the parents.
G: Don't patronize me. I can't take anymore. I must end it.
(Grimace picks up a long, narrow instrument of death and points it at his mouth.
PV: Don't do it, brother! Think of the good times!
G: Sigh, I must.
G: Goodbye, cruel world. I will commit an act of atrocity on my body and begin the process which will conclude my pathetic, miserable life.
(Grimace eats a french fry.)