Greg the Bunny, Season 1

Greg:
So, puppets and humans may seem different, but, you know, in the end, we all want the same things. Love, acceptance, and... to luck our way into a cushy job that we really don't deserve.

Greg:
Jimmy, you know how hard it is for me to get a job out there. I am sick of working one day a year on Easter.

Greg:
Hey, Jimmy. Didja see what's on TV?

Jimmy:
What?

Greg:
Not me!

Gil:
Alright, let me tell you something about television. I vouched for him to the network! Okay? I expressed an opinion! That's the kind of thing that ends careers in this business.

Greg:
Sorry. It's just that, I mean, I--I love you! I--I've seen everything you've ever done! "Godspell," um, "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat"...

Warren:
Yes, well, if it was lame and about Jesus, I was there.

Greg:
Wow. Count Blah, can I just say that you scared the piss out of me. And I mean that from the heart, sir.

Blah:
Please. You may call me Blah, blah.

Greg:
Okay. Blah Blah.

Blah:
No. Just Blah... blah.

Greg:
Just... Blah Blah.

Blah:
Blah! My boy, it is simple. Just Blah... blah.

Greg:
Just Blah... Blah.

Blah:
Look, don't turn this into a frickin' Abbott and Costello routine, okay? Just call me Blah, and leave it at that.

Greg:
[singing] Snowball, snowball, what do you do with snowfall? You ball it up, and make it stick, and then you hurl it like a brick. Snowball, you are my best friend. Snowball, your love never ends. Whether you are white or yellow, you are sure my favorite fellow. Snowball, I'm in love with you. Snowball, you complete me. Snowball, you make me rock my world.

Alison:
You're right. He's cute. He's quick. He does improv. He's like Robin Williams.

Gil:
Yeah. Only not as furry.

Gil:
Yes, Warren. Uh, we're having a little casting session in here. We're, uh, thinking of making a small cast change.

Warren:
You spotty bastard! I give you the best years of my life, and this is how you repay me? Well, the joke's on you, you godless bloodsucker! I am an actor. Hmm-mm. Yes, I have range. And I don't need your insipid, little morbid show!

Gil:
I just want you to read with the other actors, Warren. We're replacing Rochester.

Warren:
Oh. Well, apparently, you do read the suggestion box.

Alison:
I know that. I know that. I'm as sentimental as the next person, Gil. Trust me, I'm so sentimental. But his--his fur is thinning, and his ears are drooping, and it's gross. We--we need to find the next Elmo if we're gonna reach a younger audience.

Gil:
A younger audience? We already reach 4-year-olds. How young do you wanna go? Fetal?

Gil:
Guys, guys, can we just try and get this right, because the new boss from the network is here.

Dottie:
Where'd she come from?

Gil:
PBS.

Blah:
Looks more like PMS, blah.

Gil:
The, uh, the line, Rochester, is, "Can static electricity be used to light up a Christmas tree?"

Rochester:
Yeah, well, the only thing that's lit up is Warren.

Gil:
Alright. Alright. Send your friend in, I'll see what I can do. But, Jimmy, I'm really worried about you, son. You know, I just read this article about children of highly successful fathers. And these kids, they sabotage their own futures, 'cause they can't compete with their father's, you know, brilliant accomplishments.

Jimmy:
You babysit actors on some lame kiddie show.

Greg:
Fact: There are 3.2 million puppets -- or as we prefer to be called, Fabricated Americans -- currently residing in the United States. And, despite all of our many accomplishments, most people would still rather chamois their car with us than have us date their daughters. But, you know, I don't let it get me down. Hey, after all, you know, some of my best friends are humans.

Greg:
Yeah, well, at least you have a job. It is impossible for a puppet to find work out there.

Jimmy:
Well, they're hiring at the arcade.

Greg:
Yeah. Dollar fifty an hour to be a whack-a-mole. I don't think so. You should see the guy I'd be replacing. Talks like Mohammed Ali.

Greg:
Needless to say, we went back to the old Sweetknuckle Junction. Alison told Jimmy that his ideas just weren't jelling creatively with the network. Not to mention all the lawsuits we got from the parents of those twitching kids. Jimmy, you know, the hard-driven creative consultant went back to just being, well... Jimmy. And that's a'ight with me.

Alison:
You know, I really feel great about this new direction. I just--you know, it's--it's fun, and it's fresh, and it's--it's full of new ideas.

Jimmy:
Then why are we testing it?

Alison:
To see if we like it.

Warren:
I look fat. P-h-a-t phat.

Dottie:
You think I'm fat.

Blah:
No, that's--that's Warren.

Warren:
Would you like a fistful of gold, Liberace?

Blah:
Oh, Liberace. Tough talk coming from Notorious P.I.G.

Dottie:
Jimmy, I like this outfit, but... don't you think it's a bit much? I mean, my grandmother watches this show.

Jimmy:
Well, Dottie, we're not doing this show for the grandmothers. We're doing it for the kids.

Dottie:
Oh, okay. As long as it's for the kids. I'll just be practicing on my go-go pole.

Greg:
Why didn't you just call a doctor?

Warren:
Oh, yes, there's a fine way to make my case with the network. "Oh, I am not overweight, I tell you. And, by the way, here's the bill from when my ass exploded."

Warren:
I am not fat! I... don't be ridiculous! Of course, I can touch my toes! Here, I will prove it to you.

[rip]

Warren:
Uh... um, something ripped. No, I'm not wearing pants! I... Maury... I--I think I just tore myself a new one.

Gil:
Yeah, well, like I said, it's not my problem.

Dottie:
But that's what you do. When we complain, you fix.

Gil:
Top four answers on the board. Show me "Not My Problem." Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

Warren:
Yeah, I'd like to change categories, and take "Television's Biggest Jackasses" for $400.

Alison:
Jimmy. He's Gil's son. I'm putting him in charge. He's the... P.A.

Warren:
Wait, I have to listen to the kid who lets my coffee get cold? While you're at it, why don't you make Tardy Turtle the head of the network?

Alison:
I know you all fear change, so from now on, any changes will be referred to as "enhancements."

Dottie:
Oh, I got enhancements.

Gil:
You can't put the future of this show in the hands of a P.A. A P.A. who, by the way, only has the job 'cause I'm trying to give that moron some self confidence.

Gil:
Yes, Alison.

Alison:
Jimmy just left my office.

Gil:
Oh, God. Whatever he did, wherever he touched you, I apologize.

Alison:
No, he was telling me his ideas for the show.

Gil:
Oy. I apologize for that, too.

Jimmy:
See, now this one's the bullet train. So I'm thinkin' silver. I'm thinkin', you know, James Cameron. Like--like, The Matrix.

Gil:
Yeah, you're thinking The Matrix, but you're babbling like Rain Man.

Jimmy:
Oh, please. The cartoon train station?

Alison:
It's true. You know, kids today don't even like trains.

Gil:
Everybody likes trains!

Alison:
No, Gil, have you been on a train? It's depressing. Nobody wants to spend their vacation staring at poor people's backyards.

Greg:
There's an old saying: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And, personally, I never liked that saying. No, I thought it should go: If it's workin' alright, just say goodnight. Huh, see, 'cause, well, for starters, it rhymes. And... well, anyway, who would I talk to about changing that?

Gil:
Ah, network testing. What could be more fun than this? Oh, I know. Who wants to kick me in the face?

Warren:
Ooh. [Raises hand] Heh heh. Oh, I'm sorry, was that a rhetorical question?

Jack:
Well, there's your problem there. In fact, you got two problems. And they're both between his legs.

Blah:
Eh, what? They look fine to me, blah. I wish mine looked that healthy. Mine hang so low, I need a cold shower before I can get on an escalator, blah.

Alison:
You don't have the guts. Drop it.

Dottie:
You drop it.

Susan:
Ladies, ladies. Let's just cool out. Now let's all agree that it'd be nice to have a penis. But the sad truth is, we don't. And some of us probably never will.

Greg:
Oh. Hi. I, uh, I must've, uh, dozed off.

Jimmy:
Right next to the killer dog, no less.

Chelsea:
Oh, aren't they cute.

Greg:
Well. Yeah. You know, uh, he does seem much calmer, doesn't he? I guess we patched things up.

Chelsea:
Oh my God. Oh my God. James, what did he do to my dog?! Make it stop!

Jimmy:
Hey, what happened?

Greg:
Oh, Jimmy. Come on--what do you want me to say, man? You want me to say that Jack came over here, neutered the pooch and replaced his kabangers with Sammy Davis, Jr.'s eyes? Is that what you want me to say?

Greg:
He attacked me.

Chelsea:
You must have been taunting him!

Greg:
Oh, you know, you should be a rape counselor.

Greg:
My fur is aching.

Bucky:
I am going to violate you, bunny.

Burnt Leader:
I am a man of mystery.

Chelsea:
Okay, you're apologizing to him?

Jimmy:
Yeah, well, look--

Chelsea:
He castrated my dog!

Greg:
You castrated my best friend.

Warren:
Hey, what do humans see in these things, anyway? If I wanted someone to lick my face and poop on my lawn, I'd get back together with Farrah Fawcett.

Greg:
Jimmy, come on, this is paintball! We practiced for a month! We devised intricate battle plans! I even had myself Scotchguarded!

Greg:
Oh my God! Oh my God! Stop! Sit! Play dead! Play paralyzed! Play anything! Just play it away from me!

Paintball Instructor:
While the paintball is designed to not break the skin, oh, they do break the skin. They cause pain, welts, and -- if'n you're not wearing your goggles -- a little something I call "painteye." I.e., blindness.

Warren:
Did he just say, "blindness."

Blah:
Yeah, blah. He also said, "if'n."

Jack:
We're going to Greg's place. He needs our help.

Blah:
Why, what's wrong, blah?

Jack:
There's no time to explain.

Blah:
Wait a minute. There's plenty of time to explain, blah. Greg's place is, like, 40 minutes away.

Greg:
Oh, Chelsea wants. Look at you, man. You're on a shorter leash than her stupid dog. You know, we used to hang out. We used to play Nintendo. We used to melt stuff.

Jimmy:
Oh, Greg, that's so cute. That you're jealous. I mean, don't worry. It's perfectly normal. Perfectly healthy. Just a tad bit gay.

Greg:
Oh, yeah. Says the guy with the sweater tied around his shirt.

Chelsea:
Hey, James. Winston had a little accident on your lawn.

Greg:
Ooh, is he dead? Oh. That kind of accident.

Alison:
You organized the game.

Gil:
I'm... not sure that's... true. Uh, Doris, would you find out who organized the paintball game, and why the ladies weren't invited?

Dottie:
You're talking into a humidor.

Gil:
Doris, what happened to my intercom?

Dottie:
There is no Doris.

Gil:
Edna, would you find out what happened to Doris?

Gil:
End of discussion.

Warren:
No, it is not end of discussion, Gil! I do not want to sing this song with Dottie! I do not want to sing this song with Blah! I want to sing this song all by myself, you hear me? Me, me, me, me, me!

Gil:
Warren, I really don't think this is the right attitude for "The Sharing Song."

Dottie:
Gil organized a big paintball war for this weekend. Apparently, shooting each other is supposed to promote office unity.

Greg:
Teamwork. Two people of like mind working together for the common good. Nothing can beat it... Well, except maybe three people of like mind.

Jimmy:
That is one pissed off bunny.

Gil:
I have a feeling this is going to end with puppets rioting in the streets. This is the Fozzie Bear verdict all over again.

Warren:
Yes, you know, the boy is absolutely right. The way we puppets are depicted on television is deplorable.

Gil:
You play a professor.

Warren:
Not a good one. I'm drunk half the time.

Jack:
What do you get when you add two pieces of ice with one piece of ice?

Greg:
What?

Jack:
Threezing. Brrrr!

Gil:
...but the, uh, the truth is -- and it pains me to say this -- uh, that outfit makes you look, uh, fat. I mean, really, really heavy.

Alison:
Yes. Yes. Absolutely. Like, morbidly obese. You know, like, people are going to say, you know, "What did he eat? Wilson Phillips?" She's not fat anymore, but there's three of them.

Jack:
I once saw a street puppet in an outfit like that get hit by a car. Flew 30 feet. Looked like a clown shot out of a cannon. Except there was no net, so it was... funny in a different way.

Warren:
Oh, God. You know something? I wish one of the voices in your head would just tell you to shut the hell up.

Greg:
...then, he reached out--

Janice Lookalike:
He touched you?!

Tardy:
Nobody's 'upposed to touch me where my bathing suit covers!

Dottie:
Okay! She wasn't my friend, she was my maid! Okay?! My maid was a puppet! Is that what you wanted to hear?! Does that make you happy?!

Warren:
Hey, my maid's a puppet. You know, she's terrible, but she's illegal, so I can pay her dirt.

Warren:
Well, you guys cover your asses faster than the new guy in D Block.

Greg:
The philosopher Wittgenstein once wrote that, since it is through language that we think, it is language that limits us. And while the Puppish language may have 16 words for "furry," it apparently has no word for "Jimmy." If you ask me, that just blows.

Gil:
...and our little friend, Greg... Beetle-Beetlejuice.

Greg:
It's Bizzlebosh. I think. And don't say "Beetlejuice" two more times.

Greg:
So much of life comes down to choosing sides. Growing up, Jimmy and I were always on the same side. Mostly because no side ever wanted either one of us. Except in softball, where I was quite the stud. But, uh, you know, in all fairness, only because my strike zone is smaller than the ball.

Greg (angrily):
They just want me to shut up and take my clothes off..

Jimmy:
Why don't they get Warren to shut up and Dottie to take her clothes off?

Hurbada Hymena:
You need to penetrate and personify proper puppet power!

Jimmy:
Dude, you were crying?

Greg:
Oh, you're one to talk! You bawl like a baby every time you watch Rudy!

Jimmy:
Yeah, because he's so little, but he tries so big...

Greg:
Warren, you are a self-hating sock!

Warren:
Self-hating sock with a mini-fridge.

Tardy:
[driving a forklift he has just picked up a bike rack with] Now I'm strong!

Greg:
Are you okay, Dottie?

Dottie:
(crying) Yes Greg, now go away

Greg:
You don't look okay -- what's wrong?

Dottie:
I can't tell you, it's too embarassing

Greg:
Is it more embarrassing than peeing pants during a little league game and then to hide it you fall in a puddle but nobody buys it and everyone starts calling you "Puddle Pants"?

Dottie:
Yeah it's more embarrassing.

Greg:
Is it more embarrassing than seeing 'Nightmare on Elm Street' and you're so scared you pee youself so you pour soda on it but nobody buys it and everyone changes your nickname from "Puddle Pants" to "Pepsi Pants"?

Dottie:
Yes Greg, it's more embarrassing.

Greg:
Oh... then what's wrong?

Dottie:
Ira was really into MC Hammer. So one night I set up a video camera...and I danced around seductively to 'U Can't Touch This'...He said he's going to put the tape on the internet and then everyone will see it.

Jimmy:
Hey, there he goes. He's pulling in to that scuzzy motel.

Warren:
Oh, wow. I am having total deja vu. Oh, that's right -- I bring whores here.

Leo:
Alright, you're all such great actors -- why don't you act like you're putting your weapons down.

Blah:
Jack, you were in 'Nam. What do you do when someone points a weapon at you, blah?

Jack:
You spend three years in a bamboo cage.

Warren:
Leo, Warren Demontague. The pleasure is mutual. Looking forward to our scene together.

Leo:
Correct me if I'm wrong. But if I'm playing a mailman, why would I be doing a scene with a dog?

Warren:
I, sir, am an actor first, a puppet second, and an ape third! I am not a dog! But if I were, I would bite you thusly!

Dottie:
Oh, there you are, Gil. I hear you're casting for a singing mailman.

Gil:
Yeah. He delivers letters... of the alphabet.

Alison:
Oh my God. And then, instead of taking me home -- which I asked him, obviously, to take me home -- he takes me to his home. Get it? Like, his home. But then this morning--

Gil:
Alison, sometimes I ask people "What's new" just to be polite.

Greg:
So, everyone makes mistakes. But, hey, that's okay, as long as you also make friends. Friends'll do anything for you. Especially if they have friends who'll do anything for a couch.

Alison:
Uh, by the way, I know about the gin in your suck nozzle.

Hamster:
I got your suck nozzle right here, sister.

Dottie:
Oh, and by the way, guys, uh, Leo is a little quirky. He'd prefer it if you didn't talk to him too much.

Blah:
Well, fine, the last thing we need is a disgruntled, singing postal worker, blah.

Alison:
Gil, who is that?

Gil:
That's our new mailman.

Alison:
He's creepy. He looks like a real mailman.

Warren:
Well, I, for one, welcome my brother from the stage. It will be nice to finally have a true actor to help me carry the show's full dramatic weight.

Gil:
Warren, here's your banana for the Punky the Chunky Monkey sketch. Try not to eat it this time.

Warren:
Well. That was... unfortunate timing.

Dottie:
[singing] Hey, Mr. Mailman, what's in your sack?

Leo:
[singing] Letters for Dottie, letters for Jack. I hand out letters, that's what I do. I hand out letters to you, you and you. I pass out letters from nighttime 'till noon. I make people happy as I yodel a tune. Odelay, odelay-hee-hoo. Odelay, odelay, odelay-hee-hoo. Odelay, odelay-hee-hoo. Odelay, odelay-hey.

Alison:
[to Gil] I don't know where this guy came from, but return to sender... 'Cause he's a mailman, and he's... bad.

Dottie:
You're not going to believe who I can get for this part! When you think of Broadway, who do you think of?

Gil:
Nathan Lane?! You can get Nathan Lane?!

Dottie:
No, bigger! Leo Kornelly!

Gil:
Ahhh! Never heard of him.

Dottie:
He's been in everything. He's huge. He's got more Tonys than the mob.

[rim shot]

Gil:
Tardy, get off the drums.

Tardy:
Drumsticks can also be chicken.

Warren:
Alright, men, let's get a weapons check.

Jack:
I got a wrench.

Greg:
I got a rope.

Blah:
I got a candlestick.

Jimmy:
Guys, we're going to beat up Leo, not play Clue.

Dottie:
You're very good.

Leo:
I know! So when I saw on the casting call that your show was looking to add a singing mailman, I thought, "What a coincidence! You guys need a singing mailman, and I have your dirty tape!"

Warren:
Uh, Gil, uh, the man is a genius.

Blah:
Yes, clearly ahead of his time, blah.

Alison:
Yeah, well, if he's ahead of his time, that doesn't do us any good now, does it?

Blah:
Yeah, well, he's only about three weeks ahead of his time. So, uh, by the time the show airs, he'll be perfect, blah.

Greg:
Everyone makes mistakes. Hell, history's full of 'em. Betamax... Waterworld... your brother who's 16 years younger than you... And there's really no shame in making mistakes. Just as long as nobody knows about them.

Warren:
And, uh, you know, I wrote a bunch of jokes, but, uh, I'm not, uh... well, the thing is, I, uh, I wasn't there when Rochie died, and I hadn't seen that tape before. And, frankly, it, uh, moved me. I can think of nothing more beautiful than to depart this earth doing what it is that you love. And, in Rochester's case, performing, dancing under those bright lights, a hoofing cowboy dying with his boots on. So I salute you, Rochester, my rival, my friend, for going out in a grand, theatrical style. And I tip my hat to Greg. Son, you cared enough to give Rochester the greatest gift that a man can receive. A smile to shape his very last breath. So, to Rochester.

Gil:
But, you know, uh, Rochie was a, uh, bit of a health nut. He always stuck to a balanced diet. A drink in each hand.

[cricket chirping]

Gil:
'Cause the diet was... balanced. Okay, I put together a little video tribute. 'Cause it's not the first time Rochester's died on stage.

[cricket chirping]

Cricket:
Yo, back off. The guy's funny.

Alison:
And as a network executive, Rochie was always accusing me of being stiff and cold. Right back at ya, Rochie!

[rim shot]

Dottie:
And as a beloved television star, Rochester touched millions of adoring fans. Fortunately, only six of them pressed charges.

[rim shot]

Jack:
You know, we were all, uh, shocked when, uh, Rochie had a heart attack. Smart money was on liver failure.

[rim shot]

Greg:
Oh, this doesn't seem like a very respectful funeral. Look what they've done to Rochester.

Jimmy:
Well, Greg, when some people die, it's a time to be sad. You know, but when others die, like the Irish or really evil people, it's a time to celebrate.

Alison:
Ooh, this is really difficult for me to say -- and I'm only saying it because I don't want to see you get hurt. I think Jimmy is flirting with you because he wants to get me jealous.

Susan:
Oh, please! What would he want with a hairless, two-breasted woman, when he can have all this?

Alison:
--I'm just saying that I think it was kind of bizarre for you to call me on my cell phone to tell me that cell phones give you cancer. Do you--

Gil:
Hey, Warren, you shouldn't kick Rochie when he's down.

Warren:
Oh, right, right. Like when you fired him from his job of 15 years, and tossed him out onto the street. You replaced him with Greg, and you hired him back to be our manservant.

Gil:
Uh, no. I did that when he was on top. I'm saying, don't kick him when he's down. There's a difference.

Warren:
Heh heh. Oh, ol' Rochie, Rochie. How far the mighty have fallen.

Rochester:
It's just a little dry spell -- I'll be back. I'm like John Travolta in between Grease and Pulp Fiction.

Warren:
Yes, well, until Quentin Tarantino swoops in, there's an overflowing toilet in the men's can.

Greg:
No, wait, Rochester. Look, Mr. Bender, if you don't hire Rochester, then I quit!

Rochester:
You would do that for me?

Greg:
Yes, I would.

Rochester:
So, Gil, are you recasting? 'Cause I'm available.

Jimmy:
Hi, Susan. Looking good.

Susan:
H-H-Hi, Jimmy.

Jimmy:
You smell nice. What's that scent you're wearing?

Susan:
Scotchguard.

Alison:
Are you okay?

Jimmy:
Oh, yeah, it's nothing. It's something I got playing rugby.

Alison:
You play rugby?

Jimmy:
Yeah. Don't let my height or... weight or... build or... delicate features fool you.

Greg:
Oh, sorry, Jimmy. I was having that nightmare again.

Jimmy:
What, the "buried alive" nightmare?

Greg:
Yeah. This time, they were singing some happy song, and then all of a sudden, it got dark and unpleasant, like an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical.

Jack:
[singing] Many things are good to take, like a swim out on the lake.

Blah:
[singing] Take a walk or take a hike. Take a ride on your new bike, blah.

Dottie:
[singing] Take a train to New Orleans.

Jack:
[singing] Take a look at my blue jeans.

Greg:
[singing] Take my temperature when I'm sickly.

Warren:
[singing] Relax, this will be over quickly.

Dottie:
[singing] But never take what isn't yours in your grubby, little paws.

Jack:
[singing] Greg, isn't that what you have done?

Greg:
[singing] Come on, guys, this isn't fun.

Dottie:
[singing] Taking something causing grief.

Jack/Blah/Dottie/Warren:
[singing] Admit it, Greg, you are a thief. Admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it, admit it...

Greg:
Looking back, it was pretty amazing how we all stuck by each other... Even Alison took one for the team... Well, we spent the whole day pretending to be a family. And the biggest surprise of the night was that we already were one.

Warren:
Why the hell are you wearing a dress?

Jack:
Hmm? Oh, this. Yeah, huh, funny story there. Hank Thompson -- guy at my gun club -- starts shooting way better than he usually does. So I ask him what his secret is. Ladies underpants, he says. It relaxes him, slows his heartbeat, which steadies his aim. So I tried it, and I started shooting a lot better. So I added skirt, wig, makeup, some pumps -- next thing you know, I'm top marksman at my gun club. Oh, and you know what else? Works for bowling, too.

Greg:
That's weird. They never let me wear my own shoes when I'm bowling.

Gil:
Yeah. That's the weird part.

Alison:
Jack, the woman from TV Guide is here.

Jack:
Oh, no, you're kidding. This is so embarrassing... Look at this place -- it's a mess!

Warren:
Yes, well, perhaps you'd like to slip into a French maid's outfit and tidy up a bit.

Alison:
Laura, have you interviewed Count Blah yet? He is such a talent, and so professional.

Warren:
Oh, yes, if by professional, you mean stealing his entire act from a Sesame Street character.

Blah:
That's a filthy lie! That son-of-a-bitch stole my bit, blah!

Alison:
Blah and the--and the Count from Sesame Street have this, like, playful rivalry. I love when you do that. It's totally fake.

Blah:
Fake, just like his accent. I'm from Romania. He's from New Jersey. And I'll tell you another thing about him. Yeah, he once showed up in an emergency room with 1, 2, 3 -- 3 gerbils!

Warren:
"...if you get caught between the moon and New York City..."

Dottie:
You know, the distance between the moon and New York City actually varies due to the moon's elliptical orbit.

Warren:
Oh, elliptical. Well, my, my -- they must be using some awfully big words on the Cartoon Network.

Dottie:
Actually, Laura, I studied astronomy in college. In fact, I graduated with a perfect G.P.A. Whereas the only 4.0 Warren ever got was on a breathalyzer test.

Gil:
Boy, you actually brought a synthesizer.

Warren:
Yes, well, nothing but the best for Blah's birthday.

Gil:
It's Jack's birthday.

Warren:
Yeah, whatever. Come on, shove aside, Bender -- the reporter can't see me.

Alison:
Warren, Warren, we have exactly three hours to plan a surprise party for Jack, okay? Spread the word.

Warren:
Oh, good God, this isn't going to be like the time you threw me a party and then cleaned out my liquor cabinet, is it?

Alison:
That wasn't a party; that was an intervention.

Alison:
Oh, hey! Yay! Look who's here! Everybody, this is Laura Carlson from TV Guide.

Jimmy:
Oh, wow. I hope she's as easy as their crossword puzzles.

Greg:
No kidding. I would like to see a magician try to pull me out of her.

Alison:
Yeah, the whole angle is going to be how, even behind the scenes, we're one, big, happy family.

Jack:
Yeah, right.

Alison:
Yeah, right, and if we do this right, we could wind up on the cover, which would do incredible things for me. Us. The show.

Warren:
This could be perfect. I could plug my CD entitled, "It's Delightful, It's Delicious, It's Demontague."

Alison:
As much as I would love you to go plug yourself, Warren, this is not the time.

Greg:
Leo Tolstoy began "Anna Karenina" by writing that all happy families resemble one another, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Yeah, that's right -- I've read the first page of a lot of books.

Greg:
Well, when you think about it, father-son relationships are a lot like omelets. You know, the more you put into them, the better they're going to be. Nobody likes them when they're cold, and if you want to make a good one, sometimes you got to break a few eggs.

Warren:
Listen, I need to fill some seats tonight. Uh, how'd you like come to my play?

Tardy:
I like to play with Warren.

Warren:
No, uh, Tardy. I will be in a play. You understand? Performing.

Tardy:
I'm not 'upposed to eat the Legos.

Warren:
Oh God, it's like talking to Keanu Reeves.

Jimmy:
You never tell me anything.

Jimmy's Mother:
I tell you things! Like when grandma had a stroke --

Jimmy:
Grandma had a stroke!?

Jimmy's Mother:
Yes, but don't worry - she can still criticise my every decision with the left side of her body.

Gil:
I'm losing everything. Sandy and I are getting a divorce.

Blah:
You're kidding. What happened?

Gil:
Oh, you know, she says I spend too much time in the office. Uh, you know, uh, I'm not affectionate enough. Uh, I'm distant. Uh, I pat my fingers too much. You know, I'm cheap. Uh, I breathe funny. You know, I don't listen. Who knows what she's saying half the time.

Greg:
History is filled with fathers and sons who just can't get along. Oedipus and Mr. Oedipus. Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. Son of Sam and Sam. You know, it makes you wonder if fathers and sons will always be destined to collide.

Jimmy:
I don't know if this is going to work.

Greg:
Dude, it's time travel. How hard could it be? If I'm successful, I will go back to 1988 and stop them from making Back to the Future 3.

Warren:
Why is there so much wrong and so little right? Where have the saints gone marching tonight? What won't you do for the almighty buck?

Jimmy:
Is it just me, or does this thing suck?

Greg:
So no one likes to be the bad guy. Well, alright, except for skilled character actors like Alan Rickman. But the point is, you know, if you're the one calling the shots, well, then there's always going to be some people who get, well, pissed. But there are also always going to be people who will look out for you, and make sure that they've got you covered no matter what comes down.

Warren:
You know about my movie.

Alison:
Your agent called. See you bright and early in the morning, Professor Ape.

Warren:
I don't think so. Because I quit.

Alison:
You can't quit. We treasure you here, Warren. Plus, you're contractually obligated.

Warren:
Force me to appear, and my performances will be soulless, unimpassioned and sterile.

Gil:
Good. So everything's back to normal.

Tardy:
[when asked by his boss if he likes Allison the network executive] I love Allison.

Allison How do you like ashtrays?

Tardy I love ashtrays.

Warren:
I'm thrilled, sir! I am honored! I, um, well, you know, Gary, I--I would like to talk to you about, uh, you know, some, uh, clunky writing there in the second act.

Gary:
But... it's Shakespeare.

Warren:
Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I'll make it work.

Gary:
When you're ready. Um, we've, uh, we've got a lot of people to see.

Warren:
Oh, yes. Well, of course you do. Uh, many fine choices out there... if you're looking to put the "Ham" in "Hamlet."

Alison:
Yeah, well, I can't act. And I can't sing. I--I tried to write. I-I tried writing a--a script for Full House. It was really, really horrible.

Dottie:
Well, that's okay. Most scripts don't get anywhere.

Alison:
No, they made it.

Warren:
Alright, listen. Uh, sometimes when people drink a little too much, they tend to... hallucinate.

Greg:
Yeah, they also tend to urinate, which is what I saw you doing last night.

Blah:
Gary Oldman. You ever see his Dracula? Bad hair.

Greg:
You know, you made her cry, man. You hurt her feelings.

Warren:
Oh, please. She is a network robot, okay? They didn't program her model with feelings.

Dottie:
'Cause she always seems so sad.

Blah:
Don't you mean cranky, blah?

Dottie:
What about Cranky? We invited him.

Cranky:
Yeah, well, I ain't comin', ya bastards!

Greg:
Being in a position of authority rarely makes you popular. In high school, I thought my service as a hall monitor might have gotten me elected homecoming king. But instead, it made me the football team's favorite toilet brush.

Warren:
Of course. Of course. Well, let her know that I would be willing to do a monologue on the show tomorrow. Perhaps Claudius' angst over the murder of his brother might be fun for the kiddies.

Gil:
Okay, uh, who's the comic genius who took a whiz in Alison's car last night?

Dottie:
Oh, my God. That's horrible.

Warren:
Uh, well, I can't believe it. Who could be so immature?

Jack:
Well, at least she has, uh, bucket seats.

Gil:
Look, I'm serious. Whoever did this, you're in big trouble.

Blah:
You said "urine," blah.

Gil:
I'm serious! She's really pissed!

Greg:
You know, I really learned something that day. Something besides the fact that Jimmy has to get a new car, because, let me tell you, these little side trips to the cemetery are way too emotionally draining. I learned that, you know, even though it's scary to let go of the past, being able to do so is a true test of character.

Blah:
Oh, you'll be fine. Besides, if you're always retracing your footsteps, you'll never make new ones, blah.

Warren:
That's a little odd coming from somebody whose idea of a hot date is to sob uncontrollably to a marble slab.

Maggie:
You are a pompous, self-centered monkey!

Warren:
You are a shallow, manipulative trollop!

Gil:
Hey, why don't we all calm down before somebody says something untrue.

Maggie:
And I'll have you know, Blah is the greatest lover I've ever had. Talk about a G-spot? He found the whole damn alphabet.

Maggie:
Warren, stop it. There is nothing going on between Gil and me. I mean, look at him!

Gil:
Hello. Person with feelings standing here.

Maggie:
Despite what you think, I wouldn't just sleep with anything.

Gil:
Anything? Hey, you married an ape and slept with a vampire!

Dottie:
Look, I know Jack's a little strange. But he's not stalking you. When would he have the time, with all his anger management classes and gun club meetings?

Gil:
This thing between you and Maggie. Is it, uh, serious?

Blah:
No, it's just a one-time thing. Well, technically, it's a four-time thing. But just one night.

Gil:
Four?

Blah:
I'm a little rusty...

Gil:
Alright, how the hell did that happen?

Blah:
Oh, it's all Jimmy and Greg's fault, blah. They took me to this silly phone bar, and... well, I haven't been with anyone in six years, and Maggie was there, and one thing led to another, and the next thing I know, she's blahing me.

Greg:
So, apparently, poor Blah has been visiting his wife's grave every day for, like, six years.

Jimmy:
Well, in all fairness, it's not like she can go to his place.

Dottie:
My uncle, Dan, was a romantic like this. He used to visit the spot where my aunt was buried all the time. That's how the FBI finally found the body.

Gil:
...but Alison at the network just hated your "Trust Song," so she's making me fire you.

Psycho Writer:
What? I put my heart and soul into that song.

Gil:
I know. I know, and it shows, it sh--please. And I quote your song, "May my bones be crushed in moldy dust. If you can't trust, you can't trust, you can't tru-uh-ust me" when I say that I loved your song... Now your office has been cleaned out, boxes are already in your car, so off you go.

Psycho Writer:
This sucks. [storms out]

[Alison enters]

Alison:
What was that about?

Gil:
Oh, nothing. The writer of "The Trust Song" just quit.

Alison:
Oh, really? Oh, I loved that song.

Gil:
Hey, we all did.

Greg:
Sometimes we get so attached to things that it becomes hard to move on. Things like old cars... bad relationships... my pet snake who loved to sleep in the driveway.

Warren:
No, it is not end of discussion, Gil! I do not want to sing this song with Dottie! I do not want to sing this song with Blah! I want to sing it all by myself! You hear me? Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!

Gil:
I do not think this is a good attitude for the Sharing Song.

Dottie:
Oh, Greggy. I can't believe you stood up and defended my honor like that. No man has ever, ever done that for me before. It was so... masculine.

[She kisses him]

Greg:
Hey, looks like I could use a little fabric softener.

Gil:
Okay, people. Let's set up for the birthday greetings. I've got a network note here. Susie and Kenny are now Shaniqua and Carlos.

Jimmy:
Charlie Sheen creepy, or Charlie Manson creepy?

Alison:
It was, like, your own brand of creepy.

Jimmy:
Wait a minute. Don't--don't tell me that you really go for that... big, dumb, good-looking, you know, working-out, hair-brushing, shaving--

Alison:
What, have you, like, watched too many sitcoms where the--the quirky underdog who steals the heart of the unattainable woman? This is the real world, my friend.

Warren:
You and Dottie last night. What happened in the bedroom?

Greg:
Oh! Oh, well, uh, we bounced around a lot. So much in fact, we broke her bed. And--and then she banged me up against the wall.

Blah:
Mazel tov, blah.

Jimmy:
Uh... so just to be perfectly clear, you actually nailed her?

Greg:
Yeah, I did. You know, I pulled out my little gun, and I nailed her, like, five times.

Blah:
Uh, okay. Too much information, blah.

Greg:
Eh, what's the big deal? I do it to Jimmy all the time.

Warren:
Yeah, well, I dancered and prancered that vixen, and, man, was I blitzened. Ah, what do ya know. The well's not dry after all.

Blah:
Ah, looks like our little bunny is now a rabbit, blah.

Gil:
Oh, come on. He's not like you guys. He's--he's pure, he's innocent.

Jimmy:
They just pulled in together.

Gil:
She schtupped him.

Warren:
Oh, come on, Blah. You can't leave now.

Blah:
No, I gotta get home, and, uh, rehearse my lines for tomorrow, blah.

Jack:
We're doing the alphabet.

Blah:
Any numbers?

Jack:
You know who I heard had to sell his house?

Blah:
Who, blah?

Jack:
Snuffleupagus.

Warren:
Snuffy? Come on. He's loaded.

Jack:
All went up his nose.

Greg:
But I'm not cool.

Jimmy:
Well, then just act like somebody cool. Who's the coolest guy you know?

Greg:
Abe Lincoln.

Jimmy:
That's a great idea, Greg. You get a top hat, you go over to Dottie's house, and then you free the slaves.

Blah:
Dottie's a fabulous girl, and we all love her. But the problem is... she's too needy.

Warren:
I like needy. Last year's Christmas party, let's just say she decked my halls, and I gave her a holy night.

Gil:
Lovely, Warren.

Warren:
Yeah, we were joyful and triumphant. Pah rum pa pum pum.

Gil:
Yeah, we get the point.

Warren:
Ah, good, good, 'cause I'm out of Christmas innuendos... No, wait, uh... she was a heavenly piece.

Greg:
Come on, they'd never fire Oscar.

Jimmy:
No, I read all about it. His shrink put him on Prozac. He stopped being a grouch.

Dr. Aben Mitchell:
Hi, I'm Dr. Aben Mitchell. To learn more about anti-puppetism in the workplace, please contact your local library or visit us on the web at www.antipuppetismisnolaughingmatter artarsauce.org.

Greg:
Well, what have you got against puppets?

Jack:
You love your momma, Greg?

Greg:
Uh, you're not gonna hurt her if I say yes, are you?

Dr. Aben Mitchell:
OK. Now let's see. Um, Alison. OK, now, you be the puppet customer. Uh, who would like to be the, uh, waiter who abuses Alison?

Everybody:
Me! Me! Me! Me!

Dr. Aben Mitchell:
But we must all learn to tolerate and even celebrate our differences. Whether you're flesh, fleece, purple, plaid or even Chinese.

Guy in Video:
So, Fred, did you get that big promotion you deserve?

Fred:
No, they gave it to some stupid puppet, just because he was a puppet.

Guy in Video:
Which puppet did they give it to?

Fred:
I don't know. They all look alike. (Edit)

Jimmy:
Jack's never gonna find out.

Greg:
Yeah, well, if he does, I'm leaving you my foot for good luck.

Alison:
You got to admit, Jack. It looks pretty similar.

Jack:
Oh, I get it. It's another damn puppet conspiracy, like covering up Oscar's mob ties. Come on. We all know who controls sanitation from Fifth Avenue to Sesame Street.

Gil:
"Greg the Bunny is a filthy stinking sock who should die, blah." You know, people, if you don't put your names on the bottom of the paper, I'm not gonna know who wrote 'em.

Blah:
That one was mine, blah.

Gil:
I was kidding. I know it's yours. We're all aware of your ridiculous verbal tic.

Blah:
Hey, blah me.

Alison:
See? Anti-puppetism is an extremely sensitive issue, Gil. Especially now during Puppet History Month.

Gil:
Is it October already?

Alison:
Can I have everyone's attention, please? We have a problem, and it could very easily turn into a situation.

Jack:
That's network lingo for, "I've got to cover my ass."

Warren:
Ho, not in that skirt, baby!

Warren:
Yeah, well, I'm telling you, that second-rate PBS hack doesn't even eat the cookies, OK? They just crumble up and fall right out of his mouth.

Greg:
Mmm, first sign of bulimia.

Dottie:
You know what I heard? I heard that Bert and Ernie are actually straight.

Greg:
I have to go to the bathroom.

Gil:
Jimmy, why don't you go with him and make sure he doesn't fall in again.

Jimmy:
Yeah, that's exactly what I got my Ph.D. for.

Gil:
GED. Hey, I'm not some hot chick you're trying to impress at Bennigan's.

Greg:
Why do seagulls fly over the sea?

Dottie:
Hmm. I don't know, Greg.

Greg:
Because if they flew over the bay, they'd be bagels!

Greg:
So what could've been Jimmy's worst day turned out to be his best. Not just because he got to see that hot girl in her underwear, but because he finally got to see how much his father really does care about him. And me, I got to have a cool adventure in a stolen car with a Goonie! Oh, and as far as Warren was concerned, Corey Feldman finally got what he deserved. And, incidentally, Jimmy's worst day did come the following Tuesday, when my new pal, Corey, gave me a videotape, and I brought it to work.

Jimmy:
Corey Feldman--oh, you mean this was a setup?

Catholic Girl:
No, no, no. I really am a horny, Catholic schoolgirl who just happened to be skinny dipping in your pool on my 18th birthday.

Jimmy:
Once again, betrayed by porn.

Alison:
I hope he gets away. I--it's great seeing people stick it to authority.

Warren:
Yes, I'll remember that the next time you give me an acting note.

Alison:
Warren, "Sober up" is not an acting note.

Jimmy:
No, I'm just trying to explain--

Gil:
No, no, no, you're not listening. I don't care. Here's what I do care about. Tapes getting to places. Lunches getting to people. Complainers getting back to work. Delivering the tapes and the lunches to the people and the places. See? That's your job. You're the gofer.

Gopher:
Gopher? I thought I was the gopher? Are we getting a new gopher? Oh, God. I have to call my agent. I just bought a Porsche.

Greg:
We all have good days and bad days. The best day of my life was when the whole 4th grade started using my catchphrase, "Skatchamagowza!" Well, today, it was shaping up to be the best day of Jimmy's life.

Jimmy:
You know, as fun as that sounds, Warren, I don't have a car.

Warren:
Alright, I tell you what. Um, if you're careful, you can take my Mercedes, Betsy.

Jimmy:
You named your car?

Warren:
Yes, in tribute to the woman with whom I lost my virginity. And, as I recall, I also paid too much for her.

Alison:
Jim. Jim, walk with me. Guess what my colleagues back at the network thought of today's script?

Jimmy:
What?

Alison:
Nothing. They didn't get it.

Jimmy:
Well, you do need to know the whole alphabet to understand the jokes.

Jimmy:
Hey, that's Corey Haim.

Corey Feldman:
Corey Feldman!

Jimmy:
What did I say?

Greg:
Hey, wait a minute! You're Corey Feldman!

Corey Feldman:
I thought you were a stuffed animal.

Greg:
I thought you were in rehab.

Corey Feldman:
No, that was Corey Haim.

Greg:
And what did I say?

Greg:
Ah! Well, Corey Feldman, this is nuts! Come on, man, you got so much to live for!

Corey Feldman:
Like what?

Greg:
Well, for one thing, you know, there might be a Goonies, Part 2.

Corey Feldman:
Will you stop with the freakin' movies already! Jeez. All I've wanted all my life is just to be thought of as a normal person! I am a normal person! And all I want is to have a little love and happiness, and maybe spread a little joy throughout the world!

Greg:
You mean like your character, Jessie, in Rock 'n' Roll High School Forever?

Gil:
I want you to know I--I care about more than anything on earth. You're my special boy.

Corey Feldman:
Michael Jackson used to tell me the same thing.

Alison:
Quick, turn on the news! That stupid psycho, Warren, is in a police chase! Unbelievable. I knew he was unstable. I knew that he was gonna embarrass us with his drinking and his whoring and--

Warren:
I'm right here!

Alison:
Oh, Warren. You're standing right there. Oh, thank God you're okay. I was worried about you.

Warren:
That's artfully done, Alison. You know, you turn faster than a young girl at Wellesley.