Quotable Quotes (eps 124-126)

124. "Rumble in the Jungle"

125. "Double Time" (part 1)

BIG GUY: No time to stroll down Main Street, pal. You've got a bus to catch!
RUSTY: The Mass Transit Piledriver. Good one, Big Guy!
BIG GUY: Give my regards to the Hair Club Ex Machina!
NUMBER TWO: (reporting) The ARX-90 is offline.

SLATE: Analysis of the specimen's computer core has yielded...zippo.

RUSTY: Hey, Dr. Slate -- are you my mother?
SLATE: (uncomfortably) I...well, sort of.
(going into lecture mode and getting more comfortable)
You see, Rusty, unlike human children, robots don't need a mother and a father. Just one creator, who might be a man or a woman.
RUSTY: Oh. So, does Big Guy have a mom, or a dad?
SLATE: Big Guy's creator was a man named Dr. Roland Poindexter.
(brings up picture on her computer)
He's considered the Father of Robotic Artificial Intelligence.
RUSTY: Does Big Guy ever visit 'im?
SLATE: I don't think so, Rusty. Partway through Big Guy's construction, Dr. Poindexter retired. He's kept to himself since then.
RUSTY: Big Guy never sees his own pop? That's so sad!

NUMBER ONE: State your directives.
BGY-11X: Directive Alpha: I shall destroy the Big Guy and seemingly assume his position as the world's last line of defense. Directive Beta: Once positioned, I shall provide access to all classified Quark and military data. Directive Gamma: I shall maintain appearances by protecting humankind from all threats, except those posed by the Legion Ex Machina.

BIG GUY: Who can make the bugs drop? The candyman can!

BAD GUY: It's showtime.

BAD GUY: Love to hear about it later, son. We've got a bot to bust.

RUSTY: Should we give him the Texas Tornado?
BAD GUY: What?
RUSTY: The Double T. One of your classic moves.

BAD GUY: Yippie-ki-yay!

BAD GUY: Hoo-ah!

RUSTY: That was easy!
BAD GUY: Everything's easy when you're workin' for Uncle Stan.
RUSTY: Don't you mean 'Uncle Sam'?
BAD GUY: Uh, that was a history test, son. You've passed. Congratulations.
RUSTY: I passed? Wow!

DWAYNE: (watching from a distance) No way.
RUSTY: Power up! Blast off!
DWAYNE: Rusty! That's not Big Guy! Rusty! Rustyyyyy!

DWAYNE: (wiping his forehead) Good thing the Legion doesn't know about me.

NUMBER THREE: The BGY must be somewhere!
NUMBER TWO: (sarcastically) Obviously, Number Three. Ten tons of circuitry and steel don't just vanish into the ether.
NUMBER THREE: You watch your tone!
NUMBER ONE: Gentlemen. Why don't we check the progress of our hometown hero?

MACK: Hey, Princess, you ready for your beauty treatment?
JO: C'mon, Dwayne. Have a seat.

BAD GUY: Howdy. Friends.

MACK: I'm waitin'.
(Bad Guy turns his head to look at him.)
MACK: You gettin' out, or do I have to climb in there and yank you out?
NUMBER THREE: Could it be?
JO: Dwayne, you okay in there?
MACK: All right, we'll do this the hard way.
(pulls at Bad Guy's back, but no joy.) Hmp.

MACK: (whispering to Pit Crew) There's no seam. Which means there's no hatch.
JO: Which means there's no Dwayne inside.
MACK: I don't know what that thing is, but it ain't the Big Guy.
GARTH: Keep it occupied. I'll call Security.
BAD GUY: Can't let you do that, cowboy.

NUMBER ONE: If the BGY-11 is not...
NUMBER TWO: ...and has never been...
NUMBER THREE: ...a robot...
NUMBER ONE: ...then who is its pilot?

DWAYNE: (on seeing that the BEHEMOTH FUEL station is abandoned)
Guess this means they don't sell Ho-Hos. Or have a working phone.

DWAYNE: Legion must've found out what I do for a living.

DWAYNE: Here comes the fleet.

BAD GUY: What brings you by, sport?
RUSTY: I kinda wanted to ask you some questions about your dad. You know, Dr. Poindexter. I was thinking maybe we could look him up. Then you and me and him and Dr. Slate could go on a picnic. Throw back some proton shakes....

RUSTY: What's in the box?
BAD GUY: Uh, rats.
RUSTY: Big rats!
BAD GUY: And fireworks. The rats must be setting off the fireworks.

NUMBER THREE: Can't we just have him crush the little troll?

BAD GUY: Say, sport, why don't we play a game? Hide-and-go-seek.
RUSTY: Really?
BAD GUY: You betcha, cap'n. You go hide and I'll come lookin' for ya.
RUSTY: What are the boundaries?
BAD GUY: North America.
RUSTY: Okay! Start counting!

NUMBER THREE: Exactly how many are in on this little secret?
NUMBER TWO: Too many.

NUMBER THREE: An entire commission?
NUMBER ONE: We must delete them as well.
NUMBER TWO: But it could take days to locate the members!
(THORTON hits a palmprint touchpad and opens the war room door)
THORTON (on screen): This meeting of the BGY Commission is called to order.
NUMBER THREE: (gasps)
NUMBER ONE: Hmm.
BAD GUY (smashing through doorway and deploying armpit guns):
Meeting adjourned.

DWAYNE: Back at ya.

DWAYNE (smiling): Phones may be out, but a signal fire'll do.

NUMBER TWO: The drones are offline.
NUMBER THREE: Bested! By a human!

RUSTY: Hey, Big Guy! How come you didn't go-seek me?
BAD GUY: Because I...had to seek the general first. Tag team -- go get 'im, sport!
RUSTY: Right-o!

RUSTY: I don't think General Thorton likes this game.
BAD GUY: Then he doesn't get to play anymore.
(BAD GUY releases sleep gas from the tip of his right forefinger and THORTON goes unconscious)
RUSTY: Big Guy! You broke Rule #1: Robots never harm humans.
BAD GUY (angrily): And you broke Rule #5: Keep your piehole shut!
(cordially) Now come on, son. Let's find Dr. Slate. I bet she'll want to play our game, too.
(RUSTY looks appalled)

RUSTY (over vidscreen) Dr. Slate! Something's wrong with Big Guy!
(We see Rusty pacing in the war room. Behind him, the BGY Commission members are helping each other free of their bonds.)
SLATE (over vidscreen in the back of Rusty's left hand): What's going on?
RUSTY: First he called Uncle Sam 'Uncle Stan', and he couldn't remember how to do the Texas Tornado. And then he sprayed General Thorton with knockout gas, and he quoted a Robot Rule #5 that's totally bogus!
SLATE (wryly): Sounds like this Big Guy is totally bogus. Rusty, where's Big Guy now?
RUSTY (upset): He's coming to see you!

BAD GUY: Going up.

BAD GUY: Give my regards to the pavement.

RUSTY (taking SLATE by the hand and hurrying her toward the roof door):
We've got to hide you, Dr. Slate. Big Guy's turned evil!
SLATE: No. No, he hasn't, Rusty. I'm willing to bet this Big Guy's a counterfeit, built by the Legion.

RUSTY: Don't tell me what to do, you big fake!
BAD GUY: You've gone and done it now, sport.

RUSTY (upset): I am so sorr....
(realizing mistake, to himself) I mean -- it's not really Big Guy, it's not really Big Guy....
BAD GUY: How right you are. Toodle-oo, tinkertoy.

RUSTY: Big Guy!
BAD GUY: Close but no...
(BIG GUY taps BAD GUY on the shoulder)
BIG GUY: Big Guy Classic is back! (knocks BAD GUY a good one)

BIG GUY: Buddy, this town ain't big enough for the both of us!
BIG GUY and BAD GUY: Candygram!

BIG GUY: Ready to rumba?
BAD GUY: Let's.

RUSTY: Go, Big Guy! The real one, I mean.

BAD GUY: Like lookin' in a cracked mirror.

BAD GUY: I got wind of your little secret, Big Guy. That cockpit must take up a lot of room, which means I have something you don't. And I'm betting it's one of these.
(BAD GUY's chest opens and reveal a giant gun.)

BAD GUY: For the luvva.... (blows up)
BIG GUY: Nobody steals my lines.

SLATE: Let's get you to the lab for analysis...Bad Guy.

MACK (to Big Guy): C'mon, champ!
GARTH: You're goin' back to base for a _proper_ tune-up.
RUSTY: Big Guy, you were awesome! Your dad would sure be proud.
BIG GUY: What?

NUMBER TWO: Our Backup Factor is in position.
NUMBER ONE: Splendid. Move to intercept.

126. "Double Time" (part 2)

RUSTY (looking at BAD GUY's head): Wow! Talk about your family resemblance!
(looking at SLATE) Big Guy and Big Bad Guy must've had the same dad, right?
SLATE: No, Rusty. The Big Guy was created by Dr. Poindexter. The 11-X was created by the Legion Ex Machina. If we only knew who created them!

THORTON: Progress, Doctor?
SLATE: I think so, General. But I could use some Pit Crew verification on the matter.
(THORTON turns to look up at JO. She gives him a thumbs-up.)

THORTON: Where's Hunter?
(JO, GARTH and MACK all turn to him and shrug simultaneously)

MACK: Chopper's waitin'! Time to pay your respects to your evil twin!

THORTON: So you're saying the Legion didn't just eyeball our Big Guy to build their own.
SLATE: Correct. The components of the 11-X are identical to those of the real BGY.
GARTH: Identical -- not counting those artificial intelligence gizmos.
SLATE: Right. Their Big Guy was a true robot -- which means that the Legion must have gained access to Dr. Poindexter's original plans, and finally made them work.
THORTON: Poindexter took everything with him when he went AWOL. Even we don't have those plans!

DWAYNEBOT (looking all sneery): Hey, gang. What'd I miss?
SLATE: Lieutenant, we have reason to believe that the Legion has accessed top secret BGY files.
DWAYNEBOT (still sneering): That a fact. (Its eyes glow red.)
SLATE (concerned): Lieutenant?
(DWAYNEBOT's eyes prepare to laser them all.)
THORTON: He's Legion hardware!

RUSTY: Hey, Lieutenant Dwayne. What's the word?
MACK (from cover): Kid! Destroy the lieutenant!
RUSTY: But Lieutenant Dwayne's a human.

DONOVAN: The best part of being me, Jenny?
JENNY: A private copter waiting when you get that Krispie Kreme feelin', Dr. D?
DONOVAN: Don't you know it!

RUSTY: Oops. Uh, look out?

DONOVAN: My honeyglazed!
JENNY: We could take your new limo.
[bang, followed by car alarm going off]
JENNY: Or...we could walk.

JO: We gotta find the real Dwayne.
GARTH: With what lead?
SLATE: The only one we haven't followed. The long lost Dr. Poindexter.

NUMBER ONE: Lieutenant Dwayne Hunter.
NUMBER TWO: The man behind...
NUMBER THREE: ...or, more accurately, inside, the Big Guy.

DWAYNE: Legion Central.
NUMBER THREE: Indeed! Do make yourself at home.
NUMBER TWO: You are our guest.
NUMBER ONE: Our permanent guest.

THORTON: The Commission abandoned Poindexter's plans and went the human pilot route. Earth was in crisis. We didn't have time to wait for Poindexter to get it right.
SLATE: Then Poindexter vanished off the face of the earth.
THORTON: All we have is the address the IRS mailed his last tax return to.

THORTON: Doctor, it's time to move.
SLATE: What?
THORTON (pointing): C4 plastique -- we have less than 30 seconds.
SLATE: And more than 15,000 kbps.
[coolly loads disk in drive and starts to save]
THORTON: You've never seen C4 blow, have you?
SLATE: General, data contained in here could lead us to Lieutenant Hunter. [continues working]
THORTON: Twelve seconds.
[SLATE nods]
THORTON: Nine seconds. I don't know about you, Doctor, but I don't run as good as I used to.
[gets up to leave and puts hand on Slate's arm, but she shakes it off and gets the disk out instead. Then she runs out.]
THORTON: Go, go, go!
[The trailer blows up and they both kiss dirt.]
SLATE (holding up disk): Let's see what we got.

MACK: Its host has seen better days.

RUSTY: Great! Then me and Big Guy can storm the hideout and kick some Butt Ex Machina!

DWAYNE: What exactly do you want?
NUMBER THREE: Only your brain.

SLATE: And remember, Rusty, Lieutenant Hunter and the Big Guy are both counting on you.
RUSTY: (winking) Right! This is my most important mission ever!
SLATE: Be careful.

MACK: Time to follow the runt.

NUMBER TWO: If he were conscious, we are sure he would appreciate the irony.

DWAYNE: Poindexter created you, didn't he? All of you!
NUMBER ONE: We are his masterworks.
NUMBER TWO: His final creation.
NUMBER THREE: A balm for his wounded soul...
NUMBER ONE: ...After the failure of the BGY-11.
NUMBER THREE: But our artificial intelligence was so advanced it overpowered our human emotion grids.
NUMBER TWO: Thus, with no hard feelings, we overthrew our creator, confirming the superiority of machine over man.
NUMBER ONE: Survival of the fittest. Now our architect is one with our mainframe, so that we may access his gray matter at will.
NUMBER THREE: A terrific source of technical information. Poindexter is quite bright...
NUMBER TWO: ...For a human.
NUMBER ONE: It is time for you to join our information superhighway, Lieutenant. You have spent much time impersonating a machine; now you will become one.

MACK: Are we there yet?

NUMBER ONE: Surf's up.

RUSTY: The Dr. Poindexter? Big Guy's gonna be so excited!

MACK: Musta slipped!

POINDEXTER: Why, you're....
RUSTY: A boy robot. Cool, huh?

RUSTY: Don't worry, Dr. P. Your son's gonna be here any second.
POINDEXTER: Son?

NUMBER TWO: Oh, dear. Someone's done let the cat out of the bag.

NUMBER THREE: Lieutenant! I see you've had a change of uniform.
BIG GUY: The better to glory stomp you with.
NUMBER THREE: Funny, you being a human inside a metal skin, and me, well, I'm full of surprises!
(We see that NUMBER THREE has his own mecha....)

NUMBER TWO: You can't escape from Number Two!
RUSTY: Number Two? (laughing) Your name means doody!

RUSTY (to POINDEXTER): Gotcha!
NUMBER TWO: And I've got both of you!

RUSTY: Whoa. Number Two just hit the fan.

BIG GUY (to NUMBER THREE in his mecha):
Say hello to a schoolyard favorite -- the Van Dyke Ottoman!

RUSTY: Can that stuff melt robots?
(The mecha, Number Three's skin, and Number Three all melt.)
POINDEXTER: Apparently, yes.

RUSTY: Big Guy! It's your pop!
BIG GUY: This is no time for sentiment, son. If that was Number Three....
RUSTY: That makes two down.
NUMBER ONE: And One to go.

RUSTY: Dr. Poindexter! Save us!
DWAYNE: Poindexter! Save yourself!
RUSTY: Oh. Right.
POINDEXTER: N-no! My place is here. With my creation.
RUSTY: But Dr. Poindexter, Big Guy's your creation, too.
POINDEXTER: No. The BGY-11 was a failure. A mistake.
RUSTY: Big Guy, what's he talking about?
POINDEXTER: Number One was the first of my designs to fully succeed.
NUMBER ONE: And, it would seem, the last. You will build more?
POINDEXTER: We will. A generation of mechanical perfection!
BIG GUY: Don't do this, Poindexter!
NUMBER ONE: You heard it here, folks. Invest in robot futures -- except yours.
[NUMBER ONE prepares to fire on BIG GUY and RUSTY.]
[POINDEXTER fires BIG GUY's back-of-forearm gun instead.]

BIG GUY: Fancy shootin', Doc Holliday.

RUSTY: Big Guy! They're still alive!
NUMBER ONE (on vidscreen): If you are viewing this message, it would seem we have no doubt met our demise.
NUMBER TWO (on vidscreen): How unfortunate.
RUSTY: Oh. Never mind.

NUMBER THREE (on vidscreen): However, be assured that you shall not scrutinize our technology.
NUMBER ONE: Or escape.

BIG GUY: It's go time.

DWAYNE: Mack! Evac!

POINDEXTER (looking in Rusty's head from his stretcher):
Brilliant, Dr. Slate. Instead of resisting the emotion grid's childlike responses, you embraced them.
SLATE (embarrassed): Rusty is based largely on your research, Doctor.
RUSTY: Does that make you my grandpa, Dr. Poindexter?
SLATE (really embarrassed): Rusty, I really don't think....
POINDEXTER (pleased, while closing Rusty's head): Grandpa it is.
RUSTY: Now that you and Big Guy are a family again, I bet you have a lot of catching up to do.
POINDEXTER (looking up at Dwayne inside Big Guy): Yes. Yes, we do.
SLATE: And they'll have plenty of time, now that we've put a stop to the Legion Ex Machina.
RUSTY: All six of them!
POINDEXTER (being pushed into ambulance): Six?!
BIG GUY: Yes. Including Dr. Gilder, we defeated six robots.
POINDEXTER: But...I... I created seven!

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