[Everyone is being sucked into the vacuum of space]
Crow T. Robot: Hey, Mike, you think you can toss me my calculations? Thanks! Ah, here it is. "Breach Hull - All Die." Even had it underlined.
Cal Meecham: [after German scientist comments on Mozart at dinner] What do you think of Mr. Mozart, Exeter?
Exeter: I'm afraid I don't know the chap.
Tom Servo: "I'm not an alien!"
Exeter: My mind must have been wandering. Your composer, of course.
Cal Meecham: *Our* composer - he belongs to the world!
Exeter: Yes, indeed.
Mike: "I'm not an alien."
Cal Meecham: That dinner, Exeter, was even more perfect than you promised. Now if you'll excuse me, I could do with some fresh air myself.
Crow T. Robot: He's gonna get high!
Cal Meecham: Would you care to join me, Dr. Adams?
Tom Servo: "Uh, no!"
Cal Meecham: You, Dr. Carlson?
Mike: "Your turn to walk the Cal."
Exeter: Why don't you? Show him the grounds.
Crow T. Robot: "I dare ya!"
Exeter: We won't start cracking the whip on Meecham until tomorrow.
Tom Servo: "Then I ram my ovipositor down your throat, and lay my eggs in your chest! But I'm *not* an alien!"
Carl Meecham: Relocation? To where?
The Monitor: To your Earth.
Exeter: A PEACEFUL relocation...
Crow T. Robot: After the genocide, of course.
Joe: You know what my kids would say?
Crow T. Robot: YOU'RE NOT MY REAL FATHER?
[as Exeter's flying saucer catches fire]
Crow T. Robot: "Service engine soon" I wonder what that's all about.
Tom Servo: This Island Earth can be yours IF the price is right!
[as Cal and Joe assemble the Interositor]
Crow T. Robot: Science and Industry!
Tom Servo: See big men sticking screw drivers into things - turning them - AND ADJUSTING THEM!
Crow T. Robot: Build your very own Atom Storage Box!
Mike: Bringing you state-of-the-art in soft-serve technology!
Crow T. Robot: Removes lids off bottles and jars of all sizes - and it really, really works.
Benkitnorf: [the crew catches Benkitnorf in the shower on Tom Servo's interositer] Man, you guys scared the living daylights out of me!
Mike: It's working! Hey! Hi, is Exeter there?
Benkitnorf: Nah, him and Brack went down to Headbutt Days for Shelly. I gotta meet 'em in the beer tent in about fifteen minutes, so I gotta get going, 'kay?
Tom Servo: No, wait! We're trapped in space! Can we use this thing to get back to Earth?
Benkitnorf: I don't know. Geez... let's see, maybe this does something...
[pushes button, zapping Servo]
Benkitnorf: Crap. That's not it. Hang on...
Benkitnorf: Okay. Did you use the Intensifier Disc?
Benkitnorf: Turn the controls 18 degrees to the left?
All: Did that.
Benkitnorf: Are you in Europe? Do you need an adapter?
Benkitnorf: Well, look. I don't know anything about this thing. Maybe this does something...
[pushes button, zapping Servo again]
Benkitnorf: Oops. That didn't work. Okay, well I'll be sure to tell Exeter to give you a call! Bye!
Mike Nelson: [as a Postman delivers a letter] Sort this, deliver that, I'll make 'em all pay.
Tom Servo: When in California, be sure to visit beautiful...
[the letters "Washington, D.C." appear on-screen]
Tom Servo: Oh... Hm...
Crow T. Robot: Into the weenie mobile, weenie man away!
Tom Servo: Wow, that ringing! Now he knows what the world sounds like to Pete Townshend!
Exeter: They're concentrating all their attention on Metaluna. Those flashes of light - they're meteors. Hundreds of them! The intense heat is turning Metaluna into a radioactive sun. The temperature must be thousands of degrees by now.
Crow T. Robot: Cooler by the lake.
Exeter: A lifeless planet. And yet...
Tom Servo: Rents are reasonable!
Exeter: Yet, still serving a useful purpose, I hope. Yes... a sun, warming the surface of some other world - giving light to those who may need it.
Mike: "Still, your whole family died. That's a bummer, huh?"
Mike: Boy, the landlady's gonna be mad.
Tom Servo: Are you boys cooking up there?
Tom Servo: Are you making an interositor?
[upon seeing that there is no one flying the plane]
Mike: I'm your pilot, Claud Rains. Your co-pilot, Harvey the Rabbit.
Mike Nelson: [as the Universal-Internation Presents credit comes up] Doesn't the fact that it's universal make it international?
Crow T. Robot: [stops swinging pick-axe] Huh?
Mike: Crow, listen, you've gotta stop!
Crow T. Robot: Oh, hi, Mike! I've found the perfect spot. Once I've breached through this wall we'll tunnel our way right back to Earth. URG!
[returns to swinging pick-axe]
Crow T. Robot: Crow, you big dope! You can't tunnel through space.
Crow T. Robot: [British accent] Come, come, boy. We must confound Gerry at every turn!
Crow T. Robot: Man, the universe is really cruisin'.
Tom Servo: Hey, look, there's Taurus the bull.
Mike: And right underneath him the constellation feces.
Crow T. Robot: Hey, look, Orion's broke.
Joe Wilson: If there is any reason around here.
Tom Servo: What with all the shenanigans and goings-on.
Crow T. Robot: Puppet wranglers? There weren't any puppets in this movie.
Dr. Forrester: I'm feeling particularly evil because today's experiment is a stinky cinematic suppository called "This Island Earth." You may all bow down before me after this stinkburger.
Crow T. Robot: They're forcing him to visit Branson, Missouri.
Cal Meecham: Check rate of radioactive decay.
Crow T. Robot: Increase the Flash Gordon noise and put more science stuff around!
[as Tom Servo reads the opening credits:]
Tom Servo: Okay, let's see here... Shatner, Shatner... no, doesn't look like he's in this one; we're safe.
Exeter: I beg your pardon, Mr. Wilson, your camera will pick up nothing but black fog.
Tom Servo: Oh, it's a Goldstar.
Mike: Yeah, let's slip awayy under cover of afternoon in the biggetst car in the county!
Tom Servo: Space, the final frontier, these are the voyages of Babylon 5.
[Dr. Forrester holds a photo of Mike Nelson]
Dr. Clayton Forrester: This is my test subject, Mike Nelson - a disgustingly mild-mannered dope who's managed to survive every film I've subjected him to. But, perhaps, this movie will drive him to the breaking point and crush his soul. And then I'll unleash it on an unwitting public, and then I will rule the world!
[Laughs maniacally and spanks himself with the photo]
Dr. Clayton Forrester: Yes, I'm a naughty boy! Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!... Oh, ahem.
Tom Servo: Ah, they're going 65, so they'll be there in 3 BILLION years...
Tom Servo: Captain's log: a bunch of our ship fell off, and, nobody likes me.
Crow T. Robot: [gazing at the stars] I feel so insignificant... then again, I ALWAYS feel insignificant.
Tom Servo: This isn't shot day-for-night. It's more like 4:30-for-5:15.
Exeter: Now place your hands above the rail
[hands suddenly attach to the rail]
Exeter: ... they're magnetized.
Crow T. Robot: And if your hands were metal, that would mean something.
Crow T. Robot: [as ship descends into fantastic Metaluna landscape] Looks like Dr. Seuss designed their planet!
Tom Servo: Oh, they're flying into a Roger Dean album cover.
Crow T. Robot: They're very into "Yes" on this planet.
Tom Servo: Hee hee!
Mike: International flights always get the gate furthest from the terminal.
Tom Servo: Remember, we're parked in the "Denubrian Slime Devil" lot!
Tom Servo: [Zagon bomb explodes en route to thought-transference chamber] "Golly, those doggone Zagons are really licking us, huh! Well, let's go get your brains scrambled..."
Exeter: [a MutAnt blocks their path to escape] He appears badly hurt - stay close to me.
Tom Servo: *Ahem* "Guten Tag! Zigaretten? Wir wollen ein Auto mieten!"
[one of the aliens is firing on the humans]
Crow T. Robot: Eat my photons, small heads!
[Watching the credits, Eastman productions comes up]
Tom Servo: EASTMAN! He came from the east, to do battle with the amazing RANDO!
Crow T. Robot: Shall I compare thee to a summers daaaaaaaa...
Tom Servo: See, all rights are reserved, Callahan.
Mike: [in a Clint Eastwood voice] Yeah, but what about the rights of that little girl?
Tom Servo: If not satisfied with this movie, please return unused portion for a full refund.
Mike: This is when science didn't have to have any specific purpose.
Cal Meecham: [Struggling with the controls of his jet] I have no control...
Mike: I keep eating and eating.
Tom Servo: I could've sworn we parked at the... Oh shit!
Crow T. Robot: [as Cal beats a MutAnt in the head] Oh, I'm very vulnerable there! Oh, there go the piano lessons! I can't remember my dad!
[as entire mountain explodes]
Tom Servo: That's what happens when you leave a potato in the microwave!
[alien spaceship catches plane in tractor beam]
Mike Nelson: I'm beginning to think they're not from around here.
Tom Servo: No, I bet you they're English, or Canadian.
Plane Voice: Good morning, Dr. Meecham.
Tom Servo: Good morning, Voice.
Plane Voice: Hope you slept well.
Mike Nelson: 'Cause it's time to die.
Plane Voice: Please be seated, Dr. Meechum. And welcome aboard.
Mike Nelson: [imitating the Plane Voice] You're being kidnapped by The Light FM!
Exeter: I won't ask you to condone what we've done...
All: We condone it.
[Cal and Joe are looking in an interositer catalog]
Joe Wilson: Here's something my wife could use in the house...
Crow T. Robot: A man?
Joe Wilson: ...an interositer incorporating an electron sorter.
Cal Meecham: She'll probably gain twenty pounds while it does all the work for her.
Tom Servo: Cal, you bitch!
Dr. Cal Meecham: This isn't paper. It's some kind of metal.
Crow T. Robot: Uh, no, that's paper, sir.
Exeter: Into the converter tubes. Ruth, you take the first tube. Cal, you take the second.
Cal Meecham: What about you?
Exeter: I'll take the third tube.
Tom Servo: [as Cal] Oh, right. Stupid question.
Dr. Cal Meecham: [after Ruth's tube opens and the mutant is attacking] Run, Ruth, Run!
Tom Servo: Brilliant strategy, thanks Napoleon!
Joe Wilson: You're too darned smart.
Tom Servo: And handsome!
Cal Meecham: I may just be the dumbest man who ever lived.
Mike: No argument here.
Crow T. Robot: [in a scene where the brain creature enters a room looking all around] Uh, is the manager here? Hello?
Tom Servo: Well, it was pretty much me, Mike, who saved you.
Crow T. Robot: Servo, you cried like Oksana Baiul.
Tom Servo: I never!
Dr. Forrester: Hello, and welcome. I'm Dr. Clayton Forrester, and soon you will all bow down before me.
[Inside the environmental tubes]
Crow T. Robot: Wow this must be what its like inside a bong! Whehue!
Tom Servo: Self cleaning mutant. Leaves only the fresh scent of pine.
Dr. Clayton Forrester: Say, come to think about it, I don't believe you bowed down before me recently.
Mike: Sure we have - last week.
Dr. Clayton Forrester: No, no, no, I think that was more of a curtsey than a bow. So why don't we all just bow down now?
Mike: I don't see any reason to make us...
[suddenly kneels, choking]
Crow T. Robot: [scared] Bowing, sir!
[Tom bows and prays to Dr. Forrester, speaking in tongues]
Tom Servo: Captain's log: I've lost my toupee and girdle, and I can't leave my room!
Tom Servo: I'm experiencing a sensation altogether new to me, and frankly I love it!
Tom Servo: Oh, they're flying into a Roger Dean album cover.
Crow T. Robot: They're very into Yes on this planet.
Crow T. Robot: [as Joe comes down the stairs] This is a job for "Weenie man!"
[as Brack watches the interositer]
Crow T. Robot: and now it's time for The Brack Show! Da da da-da-da DA! It's the Brack show! Staring me, I'm Brack!
[as Exeter's flying saucer crashes]
Tom Servo: Oh, don't mind me, I'm just a weather balloon!
Mike: Just some swamp gas.
Gypsy: Uh uh! No way! This is your dishwashing liquid! You soak in it!
Mike Nelson: Doesn't the fact that it's universal make it international?
Tom Servo: Come on, you couple of single-stomach, micro-cephalic bilobes.
Crow T. Robot: I'm gonna curl up in his sock drawer, and sleep for days.
[as Joe is talking, Cal ruffels through his desk]
Crow T. Robot: Where's my gun?
Dr. Cal Meecham: I hope you tax payers don't mind.
All: We do!
Tom Servo: Left, right, left... Left, right, left... Ouch! A door.
Dr. Clayton Forrester: Wait help, auntie Em! Auntie Em! SUPRIIIIISE! Like who doesn't own an intirositor you collective heads of knuckle? Now get back in the theater you ninny-hammers! And remember, I know who you are, and I saw what you did. Now scat!
Dr. Clayton Forrester: I'M THE GOD! I'M THE GOD!
Dr. Clayton Forrester: Prepare yourselves for my maddest madness yet!
Crow T. Robot: [as a crewman pushes a lever] This oughta kill them!
Dr. Cal Meecham: "Complete line of iterociter parts, incorporating greater advances than hitherto known in the field of electronics." What exactly is an iterociter?
Joe Wilson: I don't know, and I don't want to know.
Crow T. Robot: Just love me!
[seeing the desolate, war-ravaged surface of Metaluna]
Mike: This must be what went on in Salvador Dali's head.
Exeter: [Hammy] Stand back... I command you, stand back!
Crow T. Robot: [Bashing jauntily at the hull with a pickaxe, singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary"] Goodbye to Noah Beery, Hello Harold Lloyyyyd...
Mike: [as Cal, after Cal & Ruth's plane is beamed into the spaceship] If I don't miss my guess, I think this has something to do with those white-haired fellows.
Cal Meecham: [reading from the iterociter handbook] Iterociter incorporating planetary generator. Iterociter with voltarator. With astroscope.
Mike Nelson: [as Cal turns the book sideways] Saaaay, Miss Interociter!
Mike Nelson: [as Cal and Ruth are captured, as Cal] I just know they're going to probe my anus.
Joe: Cal! Pull up!
Cal Meecham: I can't. I'm too low.
Tom Servo: I got the blues, so bad, uh huh.
[on approaching the planet Metaluna]
Mike: Eww, it's Michael Stipe's head!