EB Edgar/The Bug
[To J and K after they shoot down his escape ship]
OH, YOU IDIOTS! You don't get it! I've won. It's over. YOU'RE MILK-SUCKERS! You don't matter! In fact, in a few seconds, you won't even be matter.
You're under arrest for violating number 4-1-53 of the Tycho Treaty.
So hand over whatever galaxy you may be holding, step away from your busted-ass vehicle and put your hands on your head.
EB Edgar/The Bug
I see. I put my hands... on... on my head. [Does so] Like this? [Starts ripping off his rotting disguise, revealing himself as a huge, monstrous cockroach-like alien. He then swallows J and K's weapons and knocks them aside]
That didn't at all go the way I planned.
Edgar I go out, I work my butt off to make a living. All I want is to come home to a nice clean house with a nice fat steak on the table, but instead I get this. It looks like poison. Don't you take that away, I'm eating that, damn it! It is poison, isn't it? I swear to God, I would not be surprised if it was, the way you skulk around here like a dog that's been hit too much, or ain't been hit enough, I can't make up my mind! You're useless, Beatrice. The only thing that pulls its weight around here is my goddamn truck!
Edgar [The Bug's flying saucer smashes into Edgar's truck. Edgar comes out of the house to look at the damage]
Figures.
Beatrice What the heck is it, Edgar?
Edgar Get your big butt back in the house.
B The Bug
[Beatrice goes back inside, while Edgar loads his shotgun and stands over the smoking crater where his truck was parked] [The Bug orders Edgar, yet the viewer cannot see the creature as it is in the crater]
Place projectile weapon on the ground.
Edgar You can have my gun.... when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.
B The Bug
Your proposal is acceptable. [A long arm with long, bony digits grabs Edgar, pulls him into the crater and consumes him]
Inspector Why do you suppose none of the other officers saw either of these two events?
Well, sir, some of the other officers are a little soggy around the midsection. I guess that's why they weren't able to keep up.
Sergeant Hey, Edwards, if you were half the man I am -
What the hell are you talkin' about? I am half the man that you are.
PO Police Officer
[A police officer pushes a stretcher with Rosenberg's corpse, Rosenberg's cat Orion is on top]
Where do you want contestant number three?
Just leave it there. What's with the cat?
PO Police Officer
Oh, the cat. Yeah, well, there's a problem with the cat. Sign here.
[signs the paperwork]
What's the problem with the cat?
PO Police Officer
It's your problem. [chuckles as he leaves]
I hate the living. [begins pushing the stretcher] Shall we?
[Agent K shows James around MIB headquarters.]
Hey, uh, what--what branch of the government do we report to?
Well, none. They ask too many questions.
So who pays for all this?
We hold the patents on a few gadgets that we confiscated from out-of-state visitors, um...Velcro, microwave ovens, liposuction... [shows James a tiny disc] This is a fascinating little gadget. It's going to replace CDs soon. Guess I'll have to buy the White Album again. [points out another device] Oh, that is a lot of fun. It's a universal translator. We're not even supposed to have it, and I'll tell you why.
[turns it on; it plays a distorted echo of his words]
Human thought is so primitive, it's looked upon as an infectious disease in some of the better galaxies. [turns it off] That kinda makes you proud, doesn't it, huh?
[As K and J arrive at the morgue to get Orion]
Look, K, why don't you let me handle this one?
Come on, man, all we gotta do is go in here and get a cat; it's not really that hard. But if you go in there, you're gonna lay your Jack Webb on her, start flashin' your brain ray all in her face, she's gonna wind up with leukemia and some shit. The woman's a doctor; she don't need you flashin' away half her med school classes. Five minutes.
Two minutes.
[J goes in and K waits outside]
[At MIB headquarters, K diverts James from following the other recruits to an "eye exam" that will erase their memories.]
Where are you going?
Yo. Hey, man, what the hell is all this?
[The two begin walking; K hands James a file]
Back in the mid-1950s, the government started a little underfunded agency with the simple and laughable purpose of establishing contact with a race not of this planet. Everybody thought the agency was a joke, except the aliens who made contact March 2, 1961, outside New York. There were nine of us the first night: seven agents, one astronomer, and one dumb kid who got lost on the wrong back road.
[noticing a picture of K giving an alien flowers]
Aww, you brought that tall man some flowers.
[points]
This way. They were a group of intergalactic refugees. Wanted to use the Earth as an apolitical zone for creatures without a planet. Did you ever see the movie Casablanca? [James nods] Same thing, except no Nazis.
We agreed, and we concealed all the evidence of their landing.
[looking at the picture]
Uh-huh. So these are real flying saucers, and the World's Fair was just a cover-up for their landing.
Why else would we hold it in Queens? More non-humans arrive every year, and they live among us in secret.
Um, look, I'm sorry, not to change the subject or anything, but when was the last time you had a CAT scan?
'Bout six months ago; it's company policy.
Right, you should make another appointment. Um, look, tell your boy Zed I had an absolutely wonderful time, and thank you for everything, but, uh... [handing the file back] ...why don't you show me the door?
[At the MIB shooting range]
Edwards, what the hell happened?
[Presses a button on a remote control which brings forward a target of a girl holding some books. There is a bullet hole in her head]
May I ask why you felt little Tiffany deserved to die?
Well, she was the only one that actually seemed dangerous at the time.
How'd you come to that conclusion?
[Looks around the shooting range]
Well, first I was gonna pop this guy hanging from the street light. But then I realized he's just workin' out, you know. I mean, how'd I feel if someone came in bustin' my ass while I'm on a treadmill? Then I was gonna shoot this snarling beast guy, then I noticed he had a tissue in his hand and I realized, he's not snarling, he's sneezing, there ain't a real threat there. Then I saw little Tiffany, and I'm thinkin "eight year-old white girl, out on the street this time of night, middle of the ghetto, bunch of monsters, hangin' around with quantum physics books?!" She's about to start some shit, Zed! I mean, she's only about eight years old, those books are way too advanced for her. So, if you ask me, I'd say she's up to something. And to be honest, I'd appreciate it if you eased up off my back about it. Or do I owe her an apology?
[Facing off with the Bug in the morgue, as he holds Laurel at gunpoint]
Freeze it, Bug!
Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
Look, how was I supposed to know?!
What did I have to do, sing it for you?!
Well, if you weren't comin' on like some drunken prom date...!
Oh, God, that is so typical! Any woman who shows yet the slightest hint of sexual independence...!
EB Edgar/Bug
Oh, everybody shut up!
EB Edgar/Bug
Now listen, monkey-boy! Compared to you humans, I'm on the top rung of the evolutionary ladder! So can it, all right?!
You're breakin' my heart. Show me your face, and I'll cure all your ills.
EB Edgar/Bug
You ever pulled the wings off a fly? Do you care to see the fly get even?!
How far do you think you're gonna get without your ship, if that's what you call that piece of space trash we've got locked up in the office?
EB Edgar/Bug
Put your weapons down!
Never gonna happen, insect.
I'm sayin’ it's gon' be okay.
EB Edgar/Bug
Don't bet on it, meatsack! [takes Laurel, who screams, and jumps out the window onto the street]
[J is amazed to see K gathering up tabloid magazines as "hot sheets" at a newsstand]
These are the hot sheets!?
Best investigative reporting on the planet. Go ahead, read The New York Times if you want to. They get lucky sometimes. [pays vendor] Thanks, Manny.
Cannot believe you lookin' for tips in the supermarket tabloids!
Not looking for. [tosses one onto car hood, with headline: "Terrified Farm Wife Says: 'Alien Stole My Husband's Skin'] Found.
