"That thing you're working on had better be a coop or a cage for that demon bird! You can't leave them wandering around, or they'll get people."

Between his hair, and his glossy green clothes, and the squawking pitch his voice tends to hit when he's yelling, he can easily be interpreted as a large rival rooster by something with a brain the size of a walnut.

Popp's personal theory is that chickens might be evil on this planet.