"I don't get it, Ratchet. Who is this girl?" asked Sam. Ratchet and Jazz were in the workshop getting their parts taken cared for and repainted. Ratchet kept giving Sam the same answer, "Uh, I don't know."

"Jazz?"

"How should I know? They kept sayin' she's mine and she's their destiny," said Jazz, sounding really confused, despite his voice being high pitched. Sam was taking a swig of lemonade from his cup when Jazz mentioned the part about destiny. He choked while spitting out the liquid because he was trying not to laugh.

"Ok, how does your kind go about getting a girl? I mean, THE GIRL?" choked Sam, still coughing but recovering, making a reference on finding out more information if he can get them to go that route.

"If youse as old-school as Optimus and Ironhide, they start doing this one thing that your singing vultures from that kid show would do. Now if you're like me or Ratchet here, we like those bird showing off they feathers or decorating they so called nests," said Jazz.

Sam shook his head, trying to imagine the Autobots doing their rituals on getting the girl of their dreams. But all he was getting was a freaking headache. Sam whistles and shouts, "Bonecrusher, let's go for a walk." A pit-bull comes running towards Sam with his leash in his mouth.

"You know, Sam, you might want to take Bonecrusher to a medic. His white blood cell count is high for a dog his age," suggested Ratchet, as Sam was putting the leash on the dog. The dog was licking Sam's uncovered parts of his arms as Sam roughly pets him.

"I just might do that. Thanks, Ratch," said Sam. So, Sam and Bonecrusher go outside the compound of the workshop where it was way cooler than the inside with cool breeze. Bonecrusher was sniffing as a gust of wind rushed by and starts wheezing.

"Ok, bud. Let's get you to see that FUTURAMA looking doctor, OK?" said Sam, afraid of what might be wrong.

He gets to a 2009 black – and – yellow V–8 engined Chevy Camaro that's parked at the curb of the compound. "Ok, Bumblebee. We need to get to the vet's office today," said Sam, as he opens the door allowing Bonecrusher in first before getting in himself.

10 minutes later and half way across town, Sam pulls in at the parking lot next to the vet's office. As he parks the Camaro, there was a knock on the window. Sam rolls it down, seeing it was the office assistant, Destiny.

"Hey, look at you. Still looking as sizzling hot as the day I met you," said Sam, flirting with Destiny as she laughs. Destiny was a 5'6", big breasted (according to Sam) 18 year-old girl who was going to college to be a mechanic and a vet assistant.

"I just came back from lunch break when I saw your ride here," said Destiny, "Is Bonecrusher OK?"

"I have no idea. He just started wheezing about 15 minutes ago and a cousin said there's something wrong with him. He was doing that science project at school dealing with white blood cells and used Bonecrusher's just to see what his looked. He said it's really high, using a chart thingy that's used only for humans, I guess," said Sam, lying through his teeth.

"Ok. Well, come on. I'll get you signed in so Dr. Mortonsen can take a look at him," said Destiny, as she was walking away. Sam was getting out of the car when it suddenly hit him. A flashback to what Jazz had said: How should I know? They kept sayin' she's mine and she's their destiny.

"Damn," said Sam, hitting the wheel. The radio went on to a local station playing Aretha Franklin's Respect. "OK, OK. I get it. I'm sorry that I hit you in fucking balls," shouts Sam, as he was getting out.