[Ernest and the crew he's with are being forced to go into a jail cell, and Ernest is mistaking the prison he's in for his jury "accommodations"]
We're sequestered. And on top of that we can't even leave! Oh, this is great. This is just great.
[The prison guard comes up from behind him and grabs him by his collar]
I hope you've got a good story to tell my boss! After all, I do have a living to earn.
My name is Worrell. Ernest P. Worrell.
Oh, Mr. Funny-Man, huh? Yeah, Mr. Funny-Man. You'll think funny when you're tapping to the tune of 2-20, son!
[Throws him into his cell] [Remarking to his cell-mates]
That is the rudest bailiff I have ever seen in my life. [Lyle throws Ernest against the bars of the cell] Wait a minute. [bangs his head against the bars and recognizes Lyle] You're that guy! [yells to the guard] Bailiff! Bailiff! [to Lyle] You're in big trouble now, pal. Bailiff!
You see that guy?
Yeah, so?
No, I mean look... look at him. [bangs the guard's head against the bars] Come closer. Look. You see that guy? He's not on the jury. This man is a prisoner!
Ugh! I oughta throw you in the hole for that, Nash!
The hole?
Yeah, the hole! [walks off]
[shocked]
The hole like... like in solitary, the hole? Like, in real prison? Like in real, really, really, really, really real prison? The hoose-gow, the slammer, the joint, Alcatraz, San Quentin, Sing Sing... [horrified] Oh no! I'm in... I'm in... [echos] JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!
(laughs sternly)
