Most scenes together: Agent J & Agent K (17), Agent K & Dr. Laurel Weaver (5), Agent J & Dr. Laurel Weaver (5)
Hey! Hey, bug! Wait a minute, I'm talking to you. You know how many of your kind I've swatted with a newspaper? You're nothing but a smear on the sports page to me, you slimy, gut-sucking intestinal parasite! Eat me! EAT ME!!!
He looked alright to me!
The twins keep us on Centaurian time, standard 37-hour day. Give it a few months. You'll get used to it. Or you'll have a psychotic episode.
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.
K, um, look. I know we got these rules and everything, but I was thinkin'. She did help us bust that Bug; maybe we didn't have to flashy-thing her. [K pulls out the neuralyzer] K, come on, man. What - who's she gon' tell? She hang out with all dead people.
It's not for her. It's for me.
What?
They're beautiful, aren't they? Stars. You know, I never look at them anymore, but they actually are quite, um...beautiful.
Uh, K, you're frightening your partner.
I haven't been training a partner; I've been training a replacement.
Wait a minute, K. I cannot do this job by myself.
Hey, guys, my apartment isn’t anywhere near here. It’s not even on the same island.
Days. Months. Years. Always face it forward. [hands it to J]
K...
I've just been down the gullet of an interstellar cockroach, kid. That's one of a hundred memories that I don't want. [J puts on his sunglasses] See you around, James.
Hey, J! Zed called. The High Councilor from Solaxiant 9 wants floor seats for the Knicks-Bulls game.
All right, let's put in a call to Dennis Rodman. He's from that planet. [hands L her hot dog]
Rodman? You're kidding.
Nope.
Not much of a disguise.
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: human thought is so primitive, it's looked upon as an infectious disease in some of the better galaxies. That kind of makes you proud, doesn't it?
HEY! OLD GUYS! Do those still work?
I hate the living.
Where are you going?
Yo. Hey, man, what the hell is all this?
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.
Aww, you brought that tall man some flowers.
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.
Oh.
We agreed, and we concealed all the evidence of their landing.
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?
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.
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?
Hey, whoever you guys are, you're gonna have to show me some ID if you're gonna be in the morgue.
Oh, yes, of course, young lady. Have a look at this for me, please. [neuralyzes her again]
Would you stop that?!
What?!
That thing is gonna give her brain cancer or somethin'!
Never hurt her before. Look, we've gotta get all the doors closed around here. Special Services'll be here any minute.
"Never hurt her before"? How many times have you flashy-thinged that poor woman?!
Couple.
So, what, are you not worried about no long-term damage?
A little.
K, have you ever flashy-thinged me?
No.
I ain't playin’ wit you, K, have you ever flashy-thinged me?!
No.
You see this?! Huh?! NYPD! Means I will knock your punk-ass down!
You know what the difference is between you and me? I make this look good.
