Brainley is standing at the door. A salesman in the form of a floating top hat and pair of gloves holds out a hovering bowl of soup in an attempt to entice Brainley.

Brainley: Don't tempt me with soup!

Brainley: Can't you see the obvious emotional trauma caused to me by your door-to-door soup-selling ways?

Brainley: If you had even the slightest blackened sliver of what used to be a heart left in you, you would cease tormenting me so!

The salesman leaves.

Brainley: Wait! Come back! Comfort me with soup!