Coneheads

Beldar Conehead:
An owner's manual to a Ford Lincoln Mercury Sable.

Highmaster:
Ford Lincoln Mercury Sable?

Beldar Conehead:
A personal conveyance named after its inventor, an assassinated ruler, a character from Greco-Roman myth and a small furry mammal.

Highmaster:
Ah.

Ronnie:
H-hi, Mr. Conehead.

Beldar Conehead:
I find you unacceptable!

Ronnie:
Yes, sir.

Beldar Conehead:
If I did not fear incarceration of human authority figures I bring pressure to your blunt skull and cause it to collapse!

Ronnie:
Th-thank you.

Beldar Conehead:
When my people come to colonize this planet, you will be on the protected rolls, and no harm will come to you.

Gladys Johnson, Driving Student:
You are wise. But there is a sadness to your wisdom.

Fire Marshal:
Pretty cheap, Conehead.

Golfer:
Hey buddy, what's with the head?

Larry Farber:
Ah forget him, he's not a member.

Prymatt Conehead:
You know Connie, I read in a magazine that you can talk to me about anything.

Highmaster:
Therefore, you will... NARFLE THE GARTHOK!

Beldar Conehead:
AAAHHHH, SENSO RINGS! Where did you GET THOSE?!

Connie Conehead:
Under your bed?

Beldar Conehead:
UNACCEPTABLE! YOUR CONE IS TOO YOUNG! Get up! You are coming to Remulak RIGHT NOW!

Connie Conehead:
I am staying with Ronnie!

Beldar Conehead:
Maintain low tones. Impossible! Undesirable! Inadvisable!

Otto:
Beldar, you tryin to tell me you don't got a social security number?

Beldar:
Correct.

Otto:
Why not?

Beldar:
I am an illegal alien.

Otto:
I knew you were too good to be true! Every time I make some money, this happens!

Eli Turnbull:
Excuse me sir, but should they be in fact, creatures from another planet, isn't that the Air Force's responsibility?

Gorman Seedling:
If they're just visiting, sure... but the minute they try to work here, they're mine!

Prymatt:
Perhaps you and Larry will join us for the consumption of mass quantities this weekend. We will ignite our new flame pit and char some mammal flesh for you.

Lisa:
That sounds like fun. I'll make coleslaw.

Prymatt:
Ah, coleslaw. We will enjoy it.

Beldar:
You look handsome, yet uncomfortable in your pubescent ceremonial garb.

Ronnie:
Yeah... You mean my tux, right?

Beladr:
It is time for mid-day cessation of activities for carbo-protein intake.

Otto:
Yeah, sure. Take a lunch break.

Gorman Seedling:
Do you agree that the world is headed for a terrible calamity?

Beldar Conehead:
Most definitely. In fact, I have direct, personal knowledge that this is so.

Eli Turnbull:
Great, may we come in?

Beldar Conehead:
[to Ronnie] The frightening statistics of young earthlings mangling themselves in internal combustion vehicles on the night of prom ritual makes me insist that you use maximum safety awareness, return at the predesignated time coordinates, and, in fact, take my car. Its reinforced alloy superstructure is far superior to that of your broken down, rusted out shitbox.

Beldar Conehead:
[to Connie, after coming back to Earth] It is not everyday a father can give the world to his child.

Beldar Conehead:
[about waiting on his car repairs] Very well. What choice do I have? It is as if you have seized me at the base of my snarglies!

Beldar Conehead:
[about being stranded on Earth] When the High Master hears of this, he will surely cut off my plargh and hand it to me.

Beldar Conehead:
Maintain low tones with me, maintain low tones.

Prymaat:
(Reading Cosmopolitan magazine and sighing) Is the light keeping you awake?

Beldar:
No

Prymaat:
(more sighing)

Beldar:
Your breathing has become erratic. A torg for your thoughts.

Prymaat:
Beldar, are you content with me?

Beldar:
Of course, why would I not be? Now, I would like to enter my slar phase.

Prymaat:
Let us suppose, for some reason, my life functions ceased. What would you do?

Beldar:
I would incinerate your carcass in the tradition of Ovahdar the Obtuse and put it in a clean, dry place.

Prymaat:
Would you find a new genetomate to bring to our guz chamber and propagate?

Beldar:
Ah, my most precious one, I would collapse. I would draw the shades and I would live in the dark. I would never get out of my slar pad or clean myself. My fluids would coagulate, my cone would shrivel, and I would die, miserable and lonely. The stench would be great.

Prymaat:
Oh Beldar, you have made me very happy.

Beldar:
Yes, I know. Good night.

Prymatt Conehead:
[going into labour] My plubar has broken,....the birth spasm has begun.

Highmaster:
Let it be written... are you writing this?

Ronnie:
[seeing Connie eat] Whoa! My mother is the only one who could take a sandwich like that.

Gorman Seedling:
You just can't talk religion with some people!