Quotable Quotes (eps 113-116)

113. "The Bicameral Mind"

by David Slack

DONOVAN: Step it up, Palmer. I didn't dump 12 million Washingtons into this project so I could tour the halls!
JENNY: Bring on the showstopper, sweetie.
PALMER: Right this way...uh, ma'am. The anti-neutrinos.
DONOVAN: Exquisite, aren't they, Jenny.
JENNY: Yeah. They glimmer like...glimmering things!

RUSTY (playing alternate world Sony Playstation): I'm gonna make it to Level 12 in Magitech Warriors! I'm finally gonna stop the evil Frog Commander!

DONOVAN (holding up Jenny in front of the ARX-23): You wouldn't harm a lil' monkey, would you?
JENNY: I will remember this; you will pay.

DWAYNE: It's Legion hardware all right, like we been waiting for. We goin' in, Doc?
SLATE: If we keep destroying their technology, we'll never take home a specimen we can learn from.
DWAYNE: You sure Rusty's up to the task?
SLATE: He has to be.

BIG GUY: Initiate Operation Brain Drain.

NUMBER ONE: Do try and keep your software intact this time, Number Four.
NUMBER THREE: It was quite a chore reinstalling your operating system after your failure in cyberspace.

RUSTY: Dr. Slate, something's pulling on my brain!
SLATE: The Legion's in the system with you.
RUSTY: A multi-player game. Cool!

NUMBER FOUR: Don't trifle with me, Rusty. You don't have the bandwidth.

NUMBER THREE (at the Legion's): Be prudent, Number Four. You're heading for a power surge.
SLATE (from her lab): Rusty! You're too close to overload. Jack out!
RUSTY: But I'm almost there!
BIG GUY: Listen to the doc. Abort!

RUSTY: No brain pain receptors.

RUSTY: Dr. Slate, wanna come see what I drew?

NUMBER FOUR: Construction on Project Nova will proceed...momentarily.

SLATE: No more interruptions, okay?
RUSTY (in English accent): I understand. We must all remain on shedyule.
SLATE (shrugs): Kids.

DWAYNE: Any word from the kid?
JO: Nada.
BIG GUY: Guess I'm Big Solo Guy today.

NUMBER THREE: How is our progress, Number Four?
NUMBER FOUR: Most satisfactory. I am finally going to stomp the evil Frog Commander! Draggar the Loathesome...I despise that dragon!
NUMBER ONE: Number Four, explain!
NUMBER FOUR: I...am not sure I am able. [The others exchange glances and nod.]
NUMBER TWO: Off with his head.

RUSTY (looking up through magnifier and looking distorted): Hey, Dr. Slate?
SLATE (tired of interruptions): Yes, Rusty.
RUSTY: Concentrated synchronous emissions of positrons and neutrons will fuse with anti-neutrinos, right?
SLATE: Sure, if you want to create a stellar decay shockwave. [The dawn breaks.] Is this about what you're making?
RUSTY: Yeah! Wanna see it now?
SLATE: Yes, Rusty. I most definitely do.

NUMBER FOUR: Now that we have determined the nature of my malady, can I please, please, please, please get on with the game?

RUSTY: I'm not finished!
SLATE (in the Mom voice of doom): Ohhhh, yes, you are.
RUSTY: But the shedyule! Launch is at 1300 hours! [Rusty flies back to his machine.]
SLATE: Rusty! No!
[The door slams shut and is locked against her. She bangs on it with her fist. No dice.]
SLATE: Oh-ho, wait till your father gets home.
[She presses Big Guy signal. It stops two beeps later and two big feet land behind her. She gasps.]
BIG GUY (behind her): You rang?
SLATE: How -- how did you....?
BIG GUY: Followed the breadcrumbs.

[Dr. Slate stands outside the door, arms folded and one foot tapping the floor. Big Guy kneels and knocks on the door with one giant finger. No answer.]
BIG GUY: Son. I'm not going to ask you again.

BIG GUY: Okay...why?
RUSTY: I'm not sure but...isn't it cool?

RUSTY: Big Guy, I made a big mistake!
BIG GUY: No, you made a big monster.

RUSTY: Why did I build a bad guy, Big Guy?
BIG GUY: I don't know, but until we solve that mystery...[imprisons Rusty] you're grounded!
RUSTY: Big Guy, don't blow it up! [Dr. Slate comes out, and she's not a happy camper.]
RUSTY: Uh...without me.

NUMBER FOUR: No fair! He copied my brain!

BIG GUY: Quadrant evacuated. Time to serve up two scoops of candy-coated kaboom!

BIG GUY: The knees are always the first to go.

BIG GUY: Use of experimental energy cannons is prohibited within city limits.

RUSTY: Big Guy's gonna trash my masterpiece!
[Dr. Slate gives him The Stare.]
RUSTY: Go, Big Guy.

NUMBER ONE: Shut your piehole!

RUSTY: Please, please, pleeeeease, Dr. Slate? I'll be your best friend....

NUMBER FOUR: The 'Clop Chopper'! A Big Guy classic!
BIG GUY (stopped in his tracks): Hmm. Wouldn't've picked him for a fan of my work.

SLATE: We need to retrieve his missing AI.
DWAYNE: Think I've got just what the doctor ordered.
BIG GUY: Need to borrow your brain, fella. Your choice: hard or easy.

NUMBER FOUR: Game over, Rusty.

NUMBER ONE: What is he doing?
RUSTY in NUMBER FOUR: A classic move the Big Guy calls 'the Monster Masher'.

SLATE: You're back in your right mind, Rusty. This time for sure.
RUSTY: Good, 'cause I got work to do.
SLATE: What kind of work?
RUSTY: Evil-Frog-Commander-stompin' work. Can I, Dr. Slate, please, please, pleeeeaase?
SLATE: Have fun.
[Rusty laughs and flies off.]
SLATE: That's the Rusty I know and built.

114. "World of Pain"

by Bill Motz and Bob Roth(?)

AIR FORCE OFFICER: General Thorton, sir. We have a bogie over Nebraska.
THORTON: One of ours?
AF OFFICER: No, sir.
THORTON: Tourist. Better send in the welcome wagon.

RUSTY: Think they're invaders, Big Guy?
BIG GUY: Could be. Or could just be decent folk who took a wrong turn. Heck, maybe all they want is a slice of warm apple pie and a cup of joe.

BIG GUY: Welcome to Earth, intergalactic visitor. As long as you're not here to enslave our people or defile our cattle, we'll get along fine.

RUSTY: Whoa! That would've hurt -- if I had pain receptors.

RUSTY: It's alien stomp-o-rama time!
BIG GUY: Easy, cowboy. Need to make sure that took the fight out of 'em.
[to crashed ship] Come on out -- with your hands, mandibles, and/or pseudopods up!

BIG GUY (on the Zingkal): Bit the hand that made 'em.

FATHER UNIT: Beneath our metal and circuitry lie the souls of organic beings.
DWAYNE (sardonically): Imagine that.

FATHER UNIT: We continue to flee Zingkal assassins.
But we would rather feel sadness...
MOTHER UNIT: ...Than nothing at all.

RUSTY: Why would you want to be a real boy? Robots are the coolest!

BOY UNIT: What is a...pinocchio?
RUSTY: This goofy puppet in a book Dr. Slate gave me. He's always moping around because he wants to be a real boy. Finally, some fairy turns him into one. Yuck! It's s'posed to be a happy ending.

RUSTY: What was that?
BOY UNIT: Unknown. Perhaps our technology is interfacing with yours.
RUSTY: Okey-dokey.

RUSTY: This desk is...cold. And smooooth.

SLATE: Rusty. You squished my quiche.
RUSTY: It's so...squishy.
SLATE: Of course it is. That's what your scanner readouts are indicating...right?
RUSTY: No. I can feel the squish. Really feel it.
[puts quiche in mouth]
Mmm. And taste. [pause to taste] Hack! Ptui! I don't like quiche.
SLATE: Rusty, that's impossible. You don't have taste receptors... or a tactile sensation drive. I better take a look.

RUSTY: The Big Guy signal! Power up -- blast off!
SLATE: I hate it when he does that!

ZINGKAL: We must eliminate corrupt Neo-Cateri programming. Stand aside.
BIG GUY: Negatory on that one, chief. On this planet, robots help, not hurt.

RUSTY: Ow it hurts it hurts it hurts!
BIG GUY: Stay low, son. We'll get you to Dr. Slate -- soon as I'm done dispensing full metal justice!

ZINGKAL: Your inferior targeting technology has failed you, mechanoid. Prepare to....
[A tree falls on him.]
BIG GUY: Timber.

BIG GUY: Heads. You lose.

RUSTY: Dr. Slate? I feel...soft.
SLATE (diagnosing with hand on cheek): Even your titanium superstructure has become malleable.
RUSTY: Ew! Like skin? Oh, no! I'm turning into a real boy!
SLATE: Rusty, take it easy! [hugging him] I'll find a way to reverse the process. I promise.

DWAYNE: So the aliens can't undo their voodoo?

SLATE: Rusty, how do you feel?
RUSTY: Rotten! I don't wanna be Pinocchio. He never fought alien scum, or maniac robots, or anything!

RUSTY: If I have to spend the rest of my life as a real boy, then Rusty the Boy Robot's going out with a bang!

BIG GUY: Here come the homewreckers.

BIG GUY: Fellas, superior numbers are no match for superior firepower.
[BIG GUY gets swarmed]
DWAYNE: In theory, anyway.

DWAYNE (when his arm breaks): Ow.

SLATE: The logic is sound....

BIG GUY: Son. I need you to take a hit from one of those disruptors.
RUSTY: But that'll hurt!
BIG GUY: Only for a moment, son. Like tearing off a bandage real fast.
[to Zingkal] Do you mind, buddy? We're talking! [shoots Zingkal]
But then you'll be 100% robot again!

RUSTY: Hey! That didn't hurt one bit! I'm all bot!

BIG GUY: Red hots. Get yer red hots.

RUSTY (on the Neo-Cateri): I still don't get 'em. I mean, being a robot is the coolest. I mean, for starters, no pain receptors. Right, Big Guy?
DWAYNE: That's right, Rusty. [putting own arm in sling] Ow.

115. "Blob, Thy Name Is Envy"

by Dean Stefan

SLATE: In the animal kingdom, species recognize each other by their scent, or pheromones. I'm trying to duplicate that phenomenon artificially, Rusty.
RUSTY: Ohhhh.
SLATE: I've injected this nanotech-based robogel with some of my own scent to see if it will instinctively react to my presence.

[She turns away to Bunsen burner, and the gel jumps over to her]
It works! The robogel recognizes me!

DONOVAN: Get a load of that floor, Slate!
JENNY: Clean enough to eat off of -- if you're into that sort of thing.

DONOVAN: What I mean is, I have seen the future, Slate.
JENNY: And it's so shiny, he can see his monkey in it.

ANNOUNCER: Quark Industries, the people who brought you Big Guy, now bring you the latest line of defense...against dirt! It's Squeeky Gleem! Just pop open a can, and it does the rest!
[Squeeky runs around the kitchen, cleaning with glee]
For the meanest clean you've ever seen,
It's more than clean! It's Squeeky Gleem.
ANNOUNCER: And remember, Squeeky Gleem leaves no unsightly residue.

DONOVAN: Jenny, I'm thinking of buying Guam.
JENNY (slowly): Ka-ching, ka-ching.

BIG GUY: Venus flytrap. Unusual variety.
RUSTY: So there is life on Venus!

BIG GUY: Looking for flies? Try these flying treats!

BIG GUY: Say hello to my weedwhacker!
RUSTY: Say hello to my green thumb.

DONOVAN: All we need is a simple testimonial! Something like -- hmmm....
JENNY: 'After a hard day of battling mutants, nothing makes my armor sparkle like Squeeky Gleem.'

BIG GUY: As much as I endorse free enterprise as one of the building blocks of this great republic, the Big Guy name is not for sale.

DONOVAN: Celebrities.
JENNY: Maybe Seinfeld'll do it.

RUSTY: I named him Squeeky. So...can I keep him? Please, please, can I?

SLATE: Huckle! I told you not to sneak up on me like that!
HUCKLE: You told the old me. You are now in the presence of Quark Industries' Tekkie of the Month! [holds up plaque]
SLATE: It's...nicely laminated.
HUCKLE: So...you'll be my date to the Quark Stockholders Ball? You, uh, never RSVP'd my emails.
SLATE (under her breath): All thirty of them. [Huckle looks crestfallen and Slate unwisely takes pity on him.] The thing is, I just can't make plans that far in advance. Heck, I don't even know what I'm doing tonight!
HUCKLE: Oh, oh! Then how 'bout a movie?
SLATE (sighing): Okay. But just one.
HUCKLE (putting arm around Slate's shoulders): Why don't we just see how tonight develops?

HUCKLE: Rrrow!

HUCKLE: Thrrrilling, no?

DWAYNE: Slate's dating this guy?

TAXI DRIVER: Uh, I don't think you'll fit, Mr. Big Guy.

BIG GUY: Please drive, citizen.

BIG GUY: He's wily, for an overgrown amoeba.

HUCKLE: I, uh, hope we can do this again sometime, Erica. I mean, except for the, uh, killer blob....

BIG GUY: One size fits all.

DWAYNE: Slug that size oughta leave a slime line wider than a Yugo, but I'm getting nada! No residue.

RUSTY: You shoulda seen it, Squeeky! It was the size of a house and all...blobby. Kinda like you...except it was mean!
SLATE: Naaah.

SLATE: Lieutenant!
DWAYNE: You all right, Doc?
[Slate points to Rusty, in his room but within earshot]
DWAYNE: I, uh, 'heard' you ran into some trouble last night.
SLATE (briskly): I'm fine, thanks. [Worried] Any word on Huckle?
DWAYNE (unhappily): Not yet, but Thorton's got search parties covering every inch of New Tronic's sewer system.
SLATE: Well, the theater was packed. That thing could have grabbed anyone, but it wanted Huckle. [A silence falls over the conversation.]
DWAYNE: So I, uh, didn't realize you were seeing anyone.
[Erica raises her hands to say something (like "Not by choice!")]
MESSENGER ROBOT (interrupting): Slate, Dr. Erica, two tickets for tonight. [hands them to her and leaves]
SLATE: Aw. Quark Stockholders Ball. I forgot all about it.
DWAYNE: Maybe this is one dance you should sit out.
SLATE: Not an option. Attendance is mandatory.
[Slate looks at Dwayne. Dwayne looks at Slate. Slate looks at Dwayne pleadingly.]
SLATE: You wouldn't want to...? Huh. Never mind.
DWAYNE: Go with you?
SLATE: Well, I...uh, just thought....
DWAYNE: Why not? [justification mode] Well, maybe I oughta...you know...in case that blob thing returns.
[Slate smiles through all this with some amusement.]
SLATE (skeptically): At the ball? It wasn't after me.
DWAYNE: Never can be too safe. If Putty Guy shows up [gets out Big Guy signaller], Big Guy's not far behind.
[Slate smiles beatifically.]
DWAYNE: It's not a date or anything.
RUSTY: You guys are goin' on a date?
DWAYNE and SLATE (simultaneously): No.
[They smile simultaneously.]
SLATE: Okay, Lieutenant.
[She extends her hand and Dwayne begins shaking it.]
You can pick me up at 1900 hours.
[They continue to shake hands for a loooong time, while the Squeeky watches angrily.]

DONOVAN (through clenched teeth): Keep smiling, dear. Best face forward for the stockholders.
JENNY: You try making nicey-nice with your slip riding up.

SLATE (demurely): Evening, Lieutenant.
DWAYNE (real coherently): Whoa.

RUSTY: I know how you feel. We're stuck at home while the grownups are out having fun.

SLATE: So! Here we are.
DWAYNE: Yep. Think they have any of those little hot dogs?

JENNY: Oh, look, Four-eyes found a date.
DWAYNE and SLATE (chorus): It's not a date!

JENNY: I like these soirees. I'm not the only one in a monkey suit.

RUSTY: Bad Squeekys!

HUCKLE: Rusty, I love you!
RUSTY (warily): I'm gonna go warn everybody now. Okay?

WOMAN: Oh, Dr. Donovan, how did you ever devise such a product?
DONOVAN: I have my methods.
SLATE: I can vouch. He has very oily methods.

SLATE: Um...shall we....
DWAYNE: Go bowling?
SLATE: Dance.

DONOVAN: Dr. Slate, we need a little chit-chat about someone's attitude problem?

DONOVAN: Jennyyyy!
JENNY: As if.

DWAYNE (to Pit Crew on cellphone): Guys, we have a party crasher. Send in the bouncer.

SLATE: You detecting a pattern?
DWAYNE: Yeah. It doesn't like your gentleman callers.

JO: Dwayne. We're right outside with a change of clothes, but ol' Jellybelly's done a little weatherstripping on all the exits.

JENNY: Party's over. Time to slip into something more comfortable.
[rips herself out of gown and goes back to her 'monkey suit']
SLATE: Likewise.
[puts on her glasses]

RUSTY: Pretty dress.

SLATE: It's jealous.
JENNY: Well, I wouldn't get a swelled head. It is a floor cleaner.

BIG GUY: Can't battle Blubbo till I move Dumbo out of harm's way.

BIG GUY: The old colander trick.

DWAYNE: Swift, Hunter.

SLATE (to blob) : Now I want you to come out of there right now, or you'll get no more love from me.

BIG GUY: Little guys really do one heck of a spitshine.

116. "Donovan's Brainiac"

by David Slack

NUMBER ONE: Number Two, Number Three -- the capture of Number Four represents a grave security risk.
NUMBER THREE: Unless, of course, our friends at Quark encounter Number Four's auto-destruct feature.

BIG GUY: Hit the bricks!

BIG GUY: It's a staring contest - and I don't blink.

SLATE (to Rusty): If this works, we'll have clear access to all the information in Number Four's electronic brain.
RUSTY: Like secret hideout stuff?
BIG GUY: Map to the clubhouse, psychological profiles...heck, we might even find out who made these robot-making robots.

SLATE: Big Guy. Abort defusion sequence. Disengage. If the brain blows, nobody wins! Repeat, disengage!
DWAYNE: [sweating and making disgusted noise] Fold. [taps off switch]
[Slate sags and sighs with relief.]
RUSTY: Does this mean we don't get to go to their secret hideout?

PIERRE (to Rusty): Your P-54 chip is imporoperly configured.
SLATE: That's because it's a P-55. (later)
PIERRE (to Slate): P-55? Hmph. Those won't be on the market till next year. How did you procure one?
SLATE (gently): I designed them.

JENNY: Poofy hair is a family affair.

RUSTY: You're going to build the best robot ever? Pierre, you must be a genius!
DONOVAN: Takes after his uncle.
JENNY: You have a brother? [shrugs] Joking.

JENNY: Bye then. Happy scavenging. Don't fall on any sharp objects.
DONOVAN: Better be nice. He'll rule the world someday.

RUSTY: Winning a science fair must be a big deal.
PIERRE: I do it for the prestige. And the grand prize winner gets to jam with Hanson.

RUSTY: Pierre! You are so smart!
PIERRE: I know.

PIERRE: Sweet Newton's apple!

PIERRE: It's alive, alive!

PIERRE: British accent -- it's cultivated!

NUMBER FOUR (on seeing his new self): Auuuuuuughhhh!

PIERRE: I am your creator. Together we will conquer the science fair -- or I'll yank out your D-cells.

PIERRE: You don't know who you're dealing with!
NUMBER FOUR: No, you don't know with whom you are dealing.

SLATE: Yuck! Donovans.

PIERRE: Whatever flips your chips.

NUMBER FOUR: I must shed this inadequate form and reclaim my proper exoskeleton.

NUMBER FOUR: The boy robot! Of course. He must be the architect of this outrage against me.

PIERRE: Just seize him. Chop-chop!

PIERRE: I merely used knowledge to gain access.

NUMBER ONE: Recovery is not what I had in mind.
NUMBER TWO: Hm. Number Four has been inefficient.
NUMBER ONE: Ineffective.
NUMBER THREE: Imbecilic, even.

BIG GUY: Mechanic on duty. Let's take a look under the hood... Cracked engine block. Another one for the scrapyard.

NUMBER ONE: Fetch him -- with extreme prejudice.

PIERRE: They'll ding his Adonis-like chassis!

BIG GUY: Son, that's lawyer talk.
RUSTY: Actually, it's Pierre talk.

BIG GUY: Duck and cover, kids.

NUMBER FOUR: You're a genius. See if you can keep up.

NUMBER FOUR: But of greater significance, it will ignite the fusion core, resulting in a massive flash of heat which will fry New Tronic City, Quark Industries, the Big Guy, those malcontents at Legion Ex Machina, and anyone or anything else that has crossed me or would ever, in the soon-to-be-nonexistent future.
Oh, and best of all, it will fry both of you!

PIERRE: My uncle is a very rich man. He'll give you lots of money if you release us!
RUSTY: Hellooo -- robot. What's he gonna buy?

DONOVAN: Slate, what is that?
SLATE: Your nephew's science project.
JENNY: Getting his degree in Mass Destruction, no doubt.

DONOVAN: Pierre, have no fear. Uncle Axel is here.
SLATE: Noone will be here for long unless we restore microfusion integrity, stat!

NUMBER FOUR: I have no need to destroy you. That will occur in... oh, a minute or so.

DONOVAN: If you don't fix this, Slate...you're fired!

NUMBER FOUR: Is my watch fast?

PIERRE: It wasn't me, it was the girl! She's the brain! She's the one you want!

NUMBER FOUR: You will destroy us both!
BIG GUY: Nope. Just you, chief.


PIERRE (reciting by rote): Since the dawn of recorded history, a single question has burned like fire in the consciousness of humankind: why don't monkeys float?
JENNY (sinisterly): I will remember this, Dr. D. You will pay.

Back to the episode list