Mercer: Mercer here —  I just finished cooking up a badass meal of gasoline and shoe polish, but nobody can enjoy it with Shiv-Spike around. Have you met Shiv-Spike? He’s our radio operator. You should go meet him.

(Vault Hunter meets Shiv-Spike.)

Shiv-Spike: I WILL PUKE BLOOD INTO YOUR SOUL!

Mercer: Kind of asshole, isn’t he? And beyond that, he smells like a corpse somebody vomited up.  I wanna feed Shiv-Spike to the sand grubs, but he stinks so bad, they won’t eat him. Get some condiments —  we gotta make Shivvy look appetizing.

(Vault Hunter picks up condiments.)

Mercer: Got some condiments? Great. Bring that stuff back here and we’ll try to mask the stink.

(Vault Hunter approaches Shiv-Spike.)

Vercer: Just slather Shiv-Spike in those condiments. It’ll be gross, but at least…it’ll…hahaha, eh,I guess it’ll just be gross.

(Vault Hunter slathers Shiv-Spike in condiments.)

Shiv-Spike: YOUR LUNGS WILL HOLD MY FUTURE CHILDREN!

Mercer: Great! Now just push him in and let the sand grubs do the rest.

(Vault Hunter pushes Shiv-Spike.)

Shiv-Spike: I AM A SENTIENT COLLECTION OF HATRED AND FECES!

(Sand Grub eats Shiv-Spike.)

Mercer: Y’know, I think I’m gonna miss him. Anyway, good job. Come on back.

(Vault Hunter turns in the mission.)

Mercer: Actually, you know what? I don’t miss him at all.