Admittedly, Randy hasn't felt all that great since he got pushed into that vat of glowing radioactive sludge. In fairness, taking his date to a chemical warehouse (after freaking out about how expensive snacks at his local cinema were) was asking for trouble. Hell, if I was Randy, I wouldn't have pressed charges against my date either for pushing me into the vat (nor billed them after my new outfit melted upon taking it off!) Still. Days later, Randy turned up at his local vet (cheaper than a doctor) complaining about getting recurring headaches, being even sweatier than usual, and that his teeth now glowed. All the vet could do was ask Randy where he even GOT the loose teeth in his hand before sending him home with only a pat on the back and a bottle of painkillers designed to sedate a large dog. Now, Randy lies awake every night, unable to sleep, thanks to his bulbous glowing head totally illuminating his bedroom. Tough luck, Randy.

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