[Ernest and the crew he's with are being forced to go into a jail cell, and Ernest is mistaking the prison he's in for his jury "accommodations"]
Ernest P. Worrell:
We're sequestered. And on top of that we can't even leave! Oh, this is great. This is just great.
[The prison guard comes up from behind him and grabs him by his collar]
Ernest P. Worrell:
I hope you've got a good story to tell my boss! After all, I do have a living to earn.
Prison guard:
[crossly] Now look, Nash...
Ernest P. Worrell:
My name is Worrell. Ernest P. Worrell.
Prison guard:
Oh, Mr. Funny-Man, huh? Yeah, Mr. Funny-Man. You'll think funny when you're tapping to the tune of 2-20, son!
[Throws him into his cell]
Ernest P. Worrell:
[Remarking to his cell-mates] That is the rudest bailiff I have ever seen in my life. [Lyle throws Ernest against the bars of the cell] Wait a minute. [bangs his head against the bars and recognizes Lyle] You're that guy! [yells to the guard] Bailiff! Bailiff! [to Lyle] You're in big trouble now, pal. Bailiff!
Prison guard:
[approaches Ernest's cell] What is it, Nash?
Ernest P. Worrell:
You see that guy?
Prison guard:
Yeah, so?
Ernest P. Worrell:
No, I mean look... look at him. [bangs the guard's head against the bars] Come closer. Look. You see that guy? He's not on the jury. This man is a prisoner!
Prison guard:
Ugh! I oughta throw you in the hole for that, Nash!
Ernest P. Worrell:
The hole?
Prison guard:
Yeah, the hole! [walks off]
Ernest P. Worrell:
The hole like... like in solitary, the hole? Like, in real prison? Like in real, really, really, really, really real prison? The hoose-gow, the slammer, the joint, Alcatraz, San Quentin, Sing Sing... Oh no, I'm in... I'm in... JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!
Prison guard:
(laughs sternly)