A government mole sent in by the government to get secrets from George, Sr.
Cindi Lightballoon: I’m a mole.
George, Sr.: You know, God... God doesn’t care how big your teeth are. Yes, you could go to a dentist and you could, whoo... you could grind off about—I don’t know—30%. Maybe more. Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.
George, Sr.: What-What evidence does the government have on old wise George, by the way?
Cindi Lightballoon: Oh, I hate when you call yourself old. You’re new to me!