Now and Again

Michael Wiseman:
Can I fly?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
What?

Michael Wiseman:
Can I fly? You know, like, uh, Superman?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Mr. Wiseman, over the past 6 months we've performed a complicated series of operations. I'm tempted to call them transplants, but in truth, there is no "you" to transplant them to. Let's call them operations. In fact, let's agree that you have been the recipient of some of the most sophisticated surgical thinking and practice in the history of medicine. In addition, you have been inoculated with and intravenously fed over 700 highly experimental and, I believe extraordinarily promising hormones, steroids and vaccines that also were developed uniquely for you in this project. Now I mention all that because, and I'm embarrassed to admit it, that in the midst of all those surgeries, all those implant procedures, all the beta trials, tests, failures and successes... it just never occurred to any of us to shove a rocket up your ass.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You're dead, my friend... and you're just going to have to live with that.

Michael Wiseman:
Can we discuss this, please? Guy to guy? Man to man? Science fair project to scientist?

Lisa Wiseman:
Stop saying my name like you've known me for a million years! And stop acting so familiar! You are completely unfamiliar! In fact, you're crazy! In fact, you're a crazy man walking around asking people to hold his eggs. Screw you! SCREW... YOU!

Michael Wiseman:
Really? You sure? It's a weekday, you know!

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You're stronger than any man on the planet. You're faster than any man on the planet and, theoretically at least, if something should happen to you I could, if I had a couple of billion dollars and a new brain build another unit to replace you.

Michael Wiseman:
Ah, you're just saying that to make me feel better.

[Dr. Morris allows Roger to believe he's God.]

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You know who I am, don't you? So you know what I'm capable of, don't you? Then hear me, friend. If you breathe a word of what you've seen tonight-- if you breathe a single syllable of your theory-- I will smite your ass so fast you'll skip fight past heaven and hell and be turned straight into pus.

Roger Bender:
Pus?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Pus. It's got to come from somewhere, right?

Michael Wiseman:
I'm not what you think I am.

Lisa Wiseman:
What do you think I think you are?

Michael Wiseman:
I don't know... but you have to be wondering.

Lisa Wiseman:
Oh. Well, maybe a year ago, I would have wondered. No, a year ago, I would've known. A year ago, I would've run away... but I have had one of those years where everything that you count on... none of it works out the way that you think that it's going to. None of it... happens the way that you planned.

Michael Wiseman:
Like what?

Lisa Wiseman:
Everything. Gravity. So, I look at you, and I-I-I don't know. I-I sense something. I, uh, feel something, uh... familiar.

Michael Wiseman:
Yep. Nothin' says lovin' like plant life from the oven.

Lisa Schleigelmilch Wiseman:
I -- I don't know anything about him.

Heather Wiseman:
He lives on 63rd and Madison. He works for the government. He looks like he was made by Mattel. What else do you need to know?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Oh, yes. If you sass my Grandma Pearl tomorrow I will personally open up the stitches in the back of your skull and pull whatever's left of your personality out. Do you understand me?

Michael Wiseman:
I'll make you proud, Doc.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You'd better.

Heather Wiseman:
Hey, you guys are in the government, right? Aren't you, like, packing? 'Cause if you are, now would be a good time to pull out your heaters and throw down.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
We are I.R.S. agents. We do not pack.

Lisa Schleigelmilch Wiseman:
Well, do something. For goodness sake. Threaten them with an audit.

Michael Wiseman:
Well... in the nine months since you gave me the big makeover it's not like I've been around a lot of women. For that matter, in the 45 years before that it's not like I'd been around a lot of women.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Mr. Wiseman, she's just here to teach you. Nothing more.

Michael Wiseman:
I... I just... I have this instinct. It's the way she looks at me -- this thing that's supposed to be me. No one's ever looked at me like that -- not even when I was 26. I guess I'm just afraid that something might happen.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Hmm. There's a word for that fear. It's called narcissism.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You are truly unbelievable.

Michael Wiseman:
Well, thank you. I've always found myself kind of remarkable. You know, I've known me all my life and I, for one, can barely tear myself away from me. Hell, I'm damn near inseparable.

Michael Wiseman:
We here at Superheroes Anonymous realize you have a choice in law enforcement and we're grateful you chose us.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
I think the other Superfriends can handle things from here.

Michael Wiseman:
Whatever you say, Commissioner Gordon. The Batcave! 63rd and Madison Avenue... and step on it.

Lisa Schleigelmilch Wiseman:
Online-trading, Roger? How gen-X of you!

Lisa Schleigelmilch Wiseman:
There was another guy. I don't even want to talk about it. I am just so happy now to know that the only two people I have to care about are my daughter and me. I can go home and the only man I have to worry about loving is Raymond, Monday nights, on television. You know what I mean?

Janet:
Wow. If you say so.

[rehearsing a cover story]

Michael Wiseman:
You heard of my company? Dominatrix-pizza.com? You place your order and then people in leather deliver your food, slap you around if you don't give them a big enough tip. I just made that last part up. We don't have to use it.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
We're not going to use it.

Michael Wiseman:
What do you think of pizza-dungeon.com?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
I don't even want to know.

[at a political fund-raiser]

Senator Kragen:
Well, good to have you here. Now, you wouldn't by chance be considering a sizable donation to the party?

Michael Wiseman:
Absolutely. A few kegs, maybe some chips.

[going through a safe]

Michael Wiseman:
Let's see... proof that aliens exist... ah... where Hoffa's buried... Hmm. Another Pamela Lee video... where the rest of Hoffa's buried...

Michael Wiseman:
Something is amiss. I don't smell bacon. Now, isn't there a law in the state of New York where it can't be called breakfast unless there's bacon or sausage or some sort of fried meat?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Mr. Wiseman? Why are you staring at the pigeons?

Michael Wiseman:
I'm jealous. That bread looks awfully good to me.

Michael Wiseman:
And, by the way, what's a POTUS? What?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
The "o" stands for "of" and the "t" stands for "the."

Michael Wiseman:
Thank you, Vanna. I'd like to buy a vowel now.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
"President of the United States."

Michael Wiseman:
What about him?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
POTUS.

Michael Wiseman:
That's who you're going to see?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Yes. And I need you to stay right here on this bench until I get back.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
I know you kissed her that day down in the subway.

Michael Wiseman:
Yeah, so? She's my wife.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
Not anymore, Mr. Wiseman. Not anymore.

Michael Wiseman:
What are you trying to say?

Dr. Theodore Morris:
No turkey. No stuffing. No pie. No nooky. Happy Thanksgiving.

[to Wiseman]

Dr. Theodore Morris:
You made a deal just like I made a deal. Now my marker's being called in, so that means your marker's being called in. So you will go and do this little job for king, country and Dr. Morris and you will do it swiftly and you will do it skillfully and, in return, you will be allowed to live another day.

Dr. Theodore Morris:
They're gone... for now. But we should move soon. Make it interesting, at least. Where do you want to go, Mr. Wiseman? Most of us poor, pathetic souls only have to die once. Since you have to go through it a second time you get to choose. Where do you want to die? You want to go home?

Narrator:
[opening narration] An ordinary man - insurance executive, 45 years old - stumbles to his death on a subway platform in New York City. Or does he? Unbeknownst to his wife or child, his brain is rescued from the accident scene by a secret branch of the United States Government and put into the body of an artificially produced 26-year-old man with the strength of Superman, the speed of Michael Jordan, and the grace of Fred Astaire. The only catch: under penalty of death he can never let anyone from his past know he is still alive. And that, my friends, is a problem... for this man is desperately in love with his wife, his daughter, and his former life.

Micheal's friend:
"Superman doesn't get to have Lois Lane"

Michael:
"Oh yeah? What DOES he get?"

Michael's friend:
"He gets to be Superman"