Buggs. Buggs. We got the baby carrots, remember? No carrot mines for you.

Transcript:

Mr and Mrs Bugg are looking horrified at the prospect that they may have to go back to chopping carrots, but I notice they’ve still got all the gear ready: Several carrots stacked in a stook, and an axe buried in a chopping block. Mr Bugg looks distressed, but Mrs Bugg has gone the extra mile and presses a hand to her forehead to show that she is even more distressed. I get it, guys.

The text reads: “The buggs are afraid they might be sent back to the carrot chopping mines.”