The T-1000 is exploded after being frozen by liquid nitrogen. Instead of standing there like a moron gaping at the itty bitty frozen particles being melted by the foundry’s heat, The Governator takes four steps over to the broom left conveniently propped against the wall by a janitor. Deftly sweeping as many individual particles into the molten steel as he can, the T-101 sneers “hasta la vista, baby.”

A small portion of the T-1000′s particles manage to reassemble into a nine-inch-tall mini terminator, which the good guys only notice after it turns into a spiky little soccer ball and jabs Sarah in the leg. Sarah says “Ow.” John Connor punts it into the lava, stubbing his toe in the process. Sarah laughs at this and ruffles her little rascal’s hair. Mini T-1000 squeals in pain like a squirrel being run over by a car as he melts.

The T-101 reconsiders his suicide as he has not sustained heavy physical damage from a pointless and easily avoidable fight. The trio retire to Costa Rica, where the Connors enjoy beverages with little paper umbrellas in between paramilitary training sessions. The T-101 continues his personality development and eventually takes up painting, creating several world-renowned abstract modernist masterpieces before averting Judgment Day by infiltrating Skynet and converting it to humanist secular Buddhism.

The End.