Quotable Quotes (eps 121-123)

121. "Sickout"

by David Slack

THORTON: People, this is serious. Two hours ago, a virus of alien origin contaminated the Frank Miller Space Center. Disease Control sent in specialists. They found the place to be infested. We have some very sick, very contagious people on our hands, and we cannot move them out of the area. Security lockdown was initiated. Shortly after the shutdown, troops at the perimeter of the base were infected, as were other personnel two miles from the hot zone.
DWAYNE: The carrier is moving.
THORTON: This fellow right here, courtesy of close-circuit surveillance. Noone's accusing it of meaning any harm, but harm's what it's causing -- and then some.

DWAYNE: So where does the Big Guy come in?
THORTON: He goes in.

RUSTY: How can a human catch a virus? They don't even have hard drives.
BIG GUY: We're talking about a human virus, son. Germs. Like those that cause the common cold.
RUSTY: Oh. (gestures toward nose) Where boogers come from!

SLATE: I've scanned Quark's inventory. Our options are limited.
RUSTY: How 'bout Earl?
THORTON: Earl who?
SLATE: The EP-327.
THORTON: EP-327. He's that military kid, isn't he?
SLATE: General Thorton, if you recall, that 'kid' decapitated Big Guy.
DONOVAN: Well, let's not dismiss this out of hand. Earl's not a bad robot.
JENNY: He's just a little...misunderstood.
THORTON: Doctor. Do you think we can put this 'Earl' on a short leash?
SLATE: There's no time to reprogram the EP-327, General. Although he's good -- too good -- at following orders. Maybe we could order him to obey Rusty!

EARL: (saluting Thorton) EP-327 ready for duty, sir!
RUSTY: Hi, Earl! (puts hand out)
EARL: Hiya! (flips Rusty into a wall) Defence mode!
RUSTY: Uhgh...
SLATE: (to Thorton) EP-327's recognized you as the authority figure. You'll have to empower Rusty.
THORTON: (leaning down to talk to Earl) I'm sending you on a mission, soldier.
(pointing) You will recognize field commander Rusty as your superior.
You will obey his every order. Is that understood?
EARL: Sir. Designation Rusty is an inferior....
THORTON: (yelling) Is that understood?!
EARL: But, sir!
THORTON: (getting into Earl's face)
Soldier, I gave you a direct order, and you will obey it for the rest of your operational lifetime! Rusty is your CO, and you will recognize his authority! When you speak to him, the first and last words out of your mouth will be 'sir'! If he says jump, you will ask how high! Do I make myself absolutely clear!?
EARL: Sir! Yes, sir!
THORTON: (to Rusty, in a mild voice) He's all yours, son.
RUSTY (looks appalled) Um, thanks.

SLATE: Now just remember, Earl's operating system isn't as advanced as yours, Rusty. He's very literal. Whatever you tell him to do, he'll do, word for word, so be careful how you phrase things.
RUSTY: (looking down and memorizing advice by mumbling)
He's literal...word for word...be careful what I say....
(in normal voice) Okay, got it!
(to Earl, slowly) Hello, Earl.
EARL: (says nothing, but doesn't attack either)
RUSTY: (in normal voice) I'll, uh, explain our assignment on the way. Follow me. Power up! (he flies off)
(Rusty flies off. Earl just stands there.)
RUSTY (poking his head back out of the access pipe) Heh, heh. I...order you to follow me?
EARL: Sir! Yes, sir!
(Rusty and Earl fly off)

THORTON: Doctor, there's no time to waste. Disease Control is expecting you in the field.
SLATE: (reminding him) Uh, General, I'm not a medical doctor?
THORTON: (reminding her) Maybe you didn't notice, but this just became a robot matter.
(Slate looks nonplused.)

BIG GUY: Space Baby left a trail all right. Time to hoof it!

SLATE: (in Disease Control hot suit) Remember, Lieutenant, we need antibodies from a living host.
DWAYNE: (in Big Guy's cockpit) Right. Kid gloves on the lizard. I'll pass the word on to the Big Guy.
(aside) Nice suit, by the way.
SLATE: How's yours holding up?
DWAYNE: Big Guy's knee-deep in germs and I haven't sneezed yet.

BIG GUY: Tranquilizers. Say good night!

BIG GUY: Six-legged hogtie, comin' up!

DWAYNE: Breach!
SLATE: Lieutenant Hunter!
DWAYNE: (groans and starts to pass out)
SLATE: Lieutenant!

RUSTY: Hey! Use your own darn blaster!
EARL: Sir! You ordered me to help you beat the drones. By compensating for your inferior targeting software, I fulfilled your directive, sir!

SLATE:(looking down at Dwayne on stretcher) Hang on, Lieutenant.
(Rescue team boards Osprey-like VTOL plane)
DR. PAYTON: You're not coming?
SLATE: Robot down.

SLATE: (to Garth on vidscreen) Lieutenant Hunter's stable, but he needs the antidote. And we need the Big Guy.
GARTH: I'm on my way.
SLATE: What?
GARTH: Regulation. Dwayne's down; second-in-command steps in. I'll be there in 15 minutes.
SLATE: Garth, we don't have 15 minutes. The creature's already too close to the city!
GARTH: What are you saying?
SLATE: You can talk me through this, right?

RUSTY: Earl, I order you to stop calling me sir. Call me Rusty.
EARL: Rusty, yes, Rusty!

GARTH: (on vidscreen) Okay. Now see the toggle switch next to the afterburner? That's the ambulatory control system.
SLATE: Roger.
THORTON (on other vidscreen): Lieutenant Hunter, we need....
(recognizes Slate and looks confused)
Oh. Doctor, I... I must have misdialed.
SLATE: No, General, you didn't. What's the latest?
THORTON: (raises eyebrow)
(getting back to business) The alien's getting close to population. Dangerously close. If the Big Guy can't drive it back, I'll have no choice but to destroy it.
SLATE: But the infected victims! They won't survive without an antidote!
THORTON: There'll be a lot more victims if this virus spreads.

RUSTY: Rusty to Dr. Slate, Rusty to Dr. Slate! I think I broke Earl's brain!
SLATE: You what?
RUSTY: I told him to stand in the corner and there wasn't a corner, and then he got all weird and now he won't follow my orders and he's flying away even though he's got half the DNA sequence in his brain!

[Graffiti on bomb reads "HOT DATE"]

BIG GUY: Target sighted. Destination: chops!
(Big Guy misses)
BIG GUY, er, GAL: For the love of Mary.

BIG GAL: All right, precious. I think I call this one the 'Clop Chopper'!

GARTH (on vidscreen): Freshen his breath.
SLATE: Cranial blaster?
GARTH: Mighty fine choice.
BIG GAL: Hot lunch!

RUSTY: Earl, I order you to...drop and give me twenty!

RUSTY: I just need to download something from your head.
EARL: No inferior designation has clearance to access EP-327's memory chip!
RUSTY (cunningly) Riiight. What was I thinking?
(Rusty karate kicks Earl back into a canyon wall)

BIG GAL: Growing lizards need their iron!
[SLATE changes mind and puts gun back again]
SLATE: Anything non-lethal around here?
GARTH: Try the lever marked "Party Favor".
BIG GAL: Here's a patriotic little number I call 'Rocket's Red Glare'.
[Fireworks go off]

EARL: (sees fireworks) Distress signal! Comrades under enemy fire! Reinforcements, hup, hup!

RUSTY: Earl, no! Don't hurt the monster! Dr. Slate needs...antidotes... or something.

[Alien sneezes and goos BIG GUY. SLATE gasps in realization.]
GARTH: Nail it! You've got a clear shot!
SLATE: Yes. I do.
BIG GAL: I can see your bellybutton.
GARTH: What are you doing?!
THORTON: What the!?
SLATE: Baby has a cold.
BIG GAL: He needs some tender lovin' care.
[scratches alien's belly, much to its enjoyment]
JO: Score one for the Big Gal.

RUSTY: Sorry, Earl, but there's a disease on the loose and we're the cure.

SLATE (inside Big Guy): Nice work, Field Commander Rusty.

NTN NEWS: The contagious alien has been launched back into space from whence it came, and humankind is saved from a potentially crippling epidemic.
DWAYNE (fuzzily): Doc? What happened?
NTN: So once again all is well, thanks to a team of extraordinary doctors and thanks to the Big Guy -- seen here utilizing unusual battle tactics.
DWAYNE (fuzzily): Did I....?
(sharply): Who's been sitting in my...
(grinning in realization): ...chair?
[Slate turns back and winks.]

122. "Nephew of Neugog"

by Roger S.H. Schulman

RUSTY: This area is restricted, Pi-erre.
PIERRE: Hello, Rudolph.
RUSTY: The name's Rusty. What do you think you're doing?
PIERRE: Looking for a few spare parts for my next science project.
RUSTY: Your last science project nearly caused....
PIERRE: (interrupting) A minor apocalypse, yes, whatever.
RUSTY: (confused) Uh, yeah. (resuming) And you practically destroyed New Tronic City. You better leave pronto!
PIERRE: How dare you speak to my Uncle Donovan's nephew that way? I'll have you earmarked for the grinder!
(Big Guy signal goes off)
RUSTY: The Big Guy signal! You sure got lucky, fella. Power up, blast off! (flies off)
PIERRE: (behind his back) Dadda's boy.


PIERRE: Telepathy dynamo? Merry Christmas, Pierre!

PIERRE: I can sense...sensing...sensing...sensing...zip! Gah! Neugog's clearly overrated. Though I did work up quite an appetite.

PIERRE: (sniffing hungrily, to scientist using vending machine)
Say, you're not a...nuclear physicist....
SCIENTIST: (startled) How did you know?
PIERRE: I can smell it...on your brain!

SCIENTIST (braindrained): Buh. Duh. Guh.
PIERRE: (remorseful) What have I done?
(thinking) The mass of a neutron is 1.6 times 10 to the negative 27th power...? I've absorbed your mind! Must...have...more!

PIERRE: (to Donovan and possibly Jenny) I'm hungry...very hungry... (scornfully) ...but I crave nutrition, not empty calories.
DONOVAN: (scratching his head and watching Pierre leave)
Kid gives me the heebies.
JENNY: Hey, he swims in your gene pool.

SLATE: (over body of SCIENTIST) He displays all the symptoms of total synaptic deletion. Ring any bells?
BIG GUY: Just one ding dong named Neugog.
RUSTY: Nwoiiigog. Of course! Let's nail 'im!
BIG GUY: Slow down, tiger. We already did.

BIG GUY: And if Spider Sam's creeping down the corridors...
(smashes fist into hand)
...he'd better have a hall pass. (turns to walk off)
SLATE: Not so fast. (holds out telepathy helmet)
DWAYNE: Riiiight. (taps his head) The anti-brain drain beanie.
(winks at Slate)

NEUGOG: (with his back to window) Step lively, boy robot.
RUSTY: (gasps) How did you know it was me? You can't read my mind. I don't have one.
NEUGOG: Someone's out zere sucking cerebellum, Rusty. It was a matter of time before Quark sent you to see if zat someone was me.
(We see that Neugog is playing chess with himself on the floor.)
RUSTY: So you aren't doing it?
NEUGOG: (spits out his tentacle at Rusty, and of course hits only the window)
I may be famished, but I am quite imprisoned.
SLATE: (over Rusty's radio) Ask him how he knew, then.
RUSTY: How'd you know about....
NEUGOG: The brain-drainer? My cranium has been buzzing like a satellite dish, receiving intense psychokinetic vibrations. Which can only mean zere exists another like me.
SLATE: (to Dwayne. on vidscreen) Neugog's still in his cell.
DWAYNE: So I'm looking for a copycat.

NEUGOG: Mm, amazing! My skull tingles as we speak. I seem to be homing in on ze bogus one! In fact....
RUSTY: What?
NEUGOG: Oh, nothing.
RUSTY: Hey! Maybe you could catch the bad guy!
NEUGOG: Perhaps.
SLATE: (to Rusty) Hmm. Why would Neugog want to help us?
RUSTY: Yeah, why? (catching himself) I mean, why would you want to help us?
NEUGOG: Sheer malice, my boy. A charlatan is stealing my thunder, as well as my victims -- delectable intellects on which I hanker to feast.
Of course, the psychic waves are terribly fuzzy inside zis box. You may have to move me to a more...adwantageous locale.
RUSTY: No sweat!
SLATE: (sternly and quickly) No deal, Rusty.
RUSTY: I mean, no deal. Sorry.
NEUGOG: Don't you trust your Uncle Neugog, Rusty?
(wheedling) I'll share a secret with you...! About ze Big Guy....
RUSTY: (delighted) You will?
SLATE: Rusty, don't listen!
NEUGOG: (getting up close to the glass and whispering)
Big Guy's...not a robot. He's a man inside a metal suit.
SLATE: (gasps in horror)
RUSTY: (laughs heartily) You must think I was built yesterday.
(Neugog blinks blankly.)
SLATE: (sighs with relief and sags back in her chair)
RUSTY: (laughs again) I'm not a robot either. Ooh, look, there's a hamster on a wheel right in here.
NEUGOG: (disgusted) Everyone's a comedian.
(gasps) Ze novice stalks a new victim as we speak!
RUSTY: Where?
NEUGOG: Elvis has left the building. He's lollygagging out front. No, lollipopping! He's very hungry.
SLATE: Rusty! Go!

PIERRE: (sniffing) Ah, nothing like the scent of a high IQ.

PIERRE: Another mind's at work here!

BIG GUY: Brain Leech took the bait.

RUSTY: Dr. Slate! Dr. Slate, say something!
SLATE: Buh. Duh. Guh.
RUSTY: Say something else!

PIERRE: No! I've evolved too far, become too brilliant to let some steel-headed galoot get in my way!
BIG GUY: Come on. Turn yourself in.
PIERRE: I don't want to! I have places to go, sweetbreads to eat....

PIERRE: The mind boggles!

BIG GUY: Sweet Henry F.... (gets bonked by Willard Fuel oil truck)

PIERRE: My cranium brims with psychokinetic energy beyond all comprehension. Except my own, of course.

PIERRE: Focus, focus...Go boom.

DWAYNE: (sees nothing and pounds chair arm) Unh!

RUSTY: Don't worry, Dr. Slate. (clenches fists) When I get my hands on that brain bandit, I'll...I'll....
BIG GUY: Easy, son. Don't want to warp your emotion grid.
DONOVAN: (cheerily) Yes, don't fret. Once we capture the culprit, we'll merely download Dr. Slate's brain back into her brainpan.
BIG GUY: The trick is finding the culprit.
DWAYNE: (gazing at Slate on her hospital bed)
Big Guy can track six-yard-long footprints or a slime trail, but the bot can't spot psychic energy. (looking sad) And the brains of our operation is down for the count.
RUSTY: Neugog can do it! His brain's like a satellite dish!
DWAYNE: Doc, I think you'd agree -- kid's got a point.
BIG GUY: Pull on your oven mitts, Rusty -- it's time to shake hands with the Devil.

BIG GUY (to Neugog): It is my duty to inform you that in the event you decide to pull a fast one, the Boy Robot has already selected a thematically appropriate classic maneuver to be administered by me. Now, can you sniff out our perp?
NEUGOG: Can the shark smell blood?
RUSTY: I dunno. Can he?

BIG GUY: (to Rusty about Neugog) If he ticks, clock 'im!

NEUGOG: You know, ze Big Guy's heart is in ze right place, even if his brain isn't.

RUSTY: You're just trying to confuse me! Shut your mouth! Uh, mouths.

NEUGOG: Are you certain you won't reconsider loosening my bonds?
RUSTY: No way, Jose.

RABBI (at bar mitzvah in synagogue): Because today, you are no longer a boy! You are a man.
BIG GUY: (breaking through wall) Anyone for pie? Piping hot!
(The boy, his parents, and the rabbi all look shocked.)
BIG GUY: (embarrassed) Sorry. Wrong address, citizens.
(turns to go, then turns back) Mazel tov.

RUSTY: I let him get away. We'll never get Dr. Slate's mind back, and it's all my fault!
BIG GUY: (on one knee) Son, tonight we were both card-carrying members of Club Chump. But I'm willing to bet that you letting Neugog go is the best thing that could have happened.
RUSTY: (suspiciously) Big Guy, you're not malfunctioning, are you?
BIG GUY: The first thing a fresh-out-of-prison oversized underfed mind vampire's gonna do is look for the biggest, juiciest brain around. Which means Neugog'll lead us right to the copycat.
RUSTY: And Dr. Slate's brain!

PIERRE: Feed...my...head!

NEUGOG: (capturing astronomer) Mmm. (to Pierre) Are you gonna eat that?
PIERRE: Neugog?
NEUGOG: The one and only.
PIERRE: Well, there's a new brainiac in town, grandpa!
NEUGOG: My dynamo has created a monster.
PIERRE: I'm more Einstein than Frankenstein.
NEUGOG: Oh? Care to calculate the elusive zeta constant of the Unified Field Theorem?
PIERRE: Six-point-one-four. Duh. And I'm sure you can tell me the unknown ratio of the fifth dimensional string equation.
NEUGOG: Epsilon over pi.
PIERRE: Is not.
NEUGOG: Is so.
PIERRE: Is not.
NEUGOG: Is so.
PIERRE: Is not!
NEUGOG: (ends argument by attempting to suck Pierre's brain)

BIG GUY: (to Pierre and Neugog) Fellas, seems you both had a little too much to think.
NEUGOG: (to Pierre) Truce?
PIERRE: (after mentally throwing Big Guy into Neugog, knocking them both out of action)
Okay. Truce.

RUSTY: (to Pierre) Your head's even bigger than mine!
PIERRE: Bigger. Smarter. And psychokinetic.
RUSTY: You mean psycho. You're the one who stole Dr. Slate's brain!
PIERRE: Come and get it!

BIG GUY: (to Neugog, while spreading arms) Nothing up my sleeves.
(pointing arm at Neugog) Whoops. There is something up my sleeve! (forearm cannon emerges and blasts Neugog)

RUSTY: (to Pierre) Noogies!
PIERRE: Hey, no fair! Let go!

BIG GUY: Enough is enough, Neugog. Time to crack your shell.
NEUGOG: Or perhaps it's time to crack yours!

RUSTY: (deviously, pointing at Neugog) Look, Pierre. The biggest, juiciest brain around, chockful of really smart stuff. And it's yours. All yours. You know you want it. Go for it!

PIERRE: (triumphantly) I...am...!
(burps) Stuffed.

RUSTY: Sucker.

PIERRE: What am I doing here? Where are the spare parts for my science project? And who put this thing on my beautiful coiffure?
(finds no hair and gasps) I'm telling Uncle!

SLATE: Rusty, you're amazing.
BIG GUY: I have to concur, son. Just...don't get a swelled head.

123. "The Lower Depths"

by Steven Melching

SLATE: Copy that, Pugsley.
[A name which has nothing to do with that writer. Of course.]

DONOVAN and JENNY: Ka-ching!
SLATE: We're siphoning heat from the Earth's core to generate unlimited energy with zero pollution, and money is all you think about?
JENNY: (whispering to Donovan) I think she's on to you, sir!

PUGSLEY: Nine miles deep. Where no one has gone before. The Aleutian Abyss.

DONOVAN: My llama-skin loafers!

DONOVAN: Jenny! How's that cappucino coming?
JENNY: One half-decaf, semi-dry cappucino, extra foam, just the way you like it, sir!
DONOVAN: (sipping) Mmm. And the cioppino?
JENNY: (starting to lose it) Coming right up, dear.

JENNY (tasting cioppino soup) Mmm. Could use a pinch of...fur!
(picks fur from armpit and drops it into pot, then stirs)
DONOVAN: (sipping cappucino) Mmm! Where would the crew be if I wasn't down here overseeing the geothermal project? Hm, geothermal. What the heck's that mean, anyway....
(Donovan is captured by sea entity)
JENNY: (oblivious in kitchen) And a dash of chili pepper extract.
(adds a dash, shrugs, and pours in a steady stream)
(Donovan is dragged off and replaced by a shapeshifter)
JENNY: (comes out to serve soup) Soup's on!
FAKE DONOVAN: I am not hungry.
JENNY: (drops tray in rage) What do you mean, not hungry? I have been slaving over a hot stove all day and...hey! Where do you think you're going?

SLATE: Rusty, I don't remember giving you permission to go voyaging.
RUSTY: (sadly) Well, I just thought you might be lonesome....
SLATE: All right, you can stay. But only for tonight.
RUSTY: Cool! So, wanna play dominoes?

RUSTY: So what's it look like?

RUSTY: That's one mean...uh, jellyfish.

FAKE PUGSLEY: We must continue to feed the Leviathan.
RUSTY: (from hiding, to Dr. Slate) What's a Levia-thing? And what's with Dr. Donovan?
SLATE: (spotting the wet shoes) Dr. Donovan's...not himself.

RUSTY: (quietly) Aye-firmative.

RUSTY: Welcome to Rusty's Jelly Fish Fry.

FAKE DONOVAN: Welcome aboard, Big Guy. I trust you had a pleasant journey.
BIG GUY: Peachy.

BIG GUY: What's Rusty doing here?
FAKE SLATE: Ha, ha, ha. He missed me.
BIG GUY: Wily little tyke. What's with the power-down?
FAKE SLATE: The extreme pressure at these depths was too much for him. Damaged his command processors. Don't you worry about Rusty. I'll have him back up and running in no time. I'm more concerned with the geothermal plant.
BIG GUY: Let's see what a little elbow grease can do.

BIG GUY: Lift with the legs.

BIG GUY: Spiffy.

DWAYNE: Donovan just said thank you. And he's working?
(pauses) And where's the monkey?

(FAKE DONOVAN runs at BIG GUY, growling)
BIG GUY: (picks up FAKE DONOVAN) And you were hoping to accomplish what?

BIG GUY: (addressing FAKE SLATE) What'd you do with Doc Slate?
FAKE SLATE: (hisses)
BIG GUY: Wrong answer! (slams FAKE SLATE to the ground)

BIG GUY: (to powered down Rusty) Maybe you can fill me in, sport.
(opens Rusty's chest. Jenny is huddled inside.)
BIG GUY: Aah! (unships underarm guns)
JENNY: Don't shoot don't shoot don't shoot!
BIG GUY: How do I know you're not one of them?
JENNY: I have a personality, ding-a-ling?

BIG GUY: No, they've replaced everyone. Nothing human about those method actors but their looks.

JENNY: Here. Four-Eyes slipped this to me just before they grabbed 'er.

RUSTY: P-55 chip! I'm loaded with 'em!
BIG GUY: Then let's add this one to your collection.

SLATE: Help us, Big Guy. You're our only hope!

BIG GUY: I'll just dis-repair it before whatever's down there rises and shines.

RUSTY: Something big.

JENNY: We? Do I look like a sea monkey?

JENNY: Dr. D.? Four-Eyes? Olly oxen free....

BIG GUY: Candygrams delivered; commencing countdown.

DWAYNE (appalled): Slate and the others aren't on the station...
BIG GUY: ...they're in the belly of the beast!

BIG GUY: Torpedos, ahoy!

RUSTY: Goin' in ya!

BIG GUY: Can't let Fishface reach open waters. Dive!

DWAYNE: (as Big Guy starts to spring leaks) Pressure's on.

DWAYNE: If I'm goin' down, I'm taking you with me.

BIG GUY: I'm a tad waterlogged, sport. Room for one more?

BIG GUY: Goldie, consider yourself flushed.

DONOVAN: My multi-million dollar geothermal station, Jenny, ruined!
JENNY: (evilly) Station, shmation. Check out those pretty llama-skins.

On to eps 124-126

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