Mike: Ladies and gentlemen, this evening Raybert Productions and Screen Gems, with its usual lack of cooperation from the National Broadcasting Company, is pleased to present this special report from The Department of UFO Information.
The Secretary: At this very moment, walking upon the face of mother Earth, are aliens from outer space. You may poo-poo this statement, but I must say empahtically...
[lamely hits the table with his fist]
The Secretary: ... don't poo-poo it.
Davy: Micky, I thought you were putting your clothes on?
Micky: Yeah, I did put my clothes on. But my clothes took off. Could it be my clothes we're putting me on?
The Secretary: Certainly, if the intend was to be humerous, it would have been funnier than that. Unless... it was a TV show.
The Secretary: Here he comes, walking down the beach. Gets the funniest looks... from everyone he meets.
[singing a line from Simon & Garfunkle's "The 59th Street Bridge Song"]
The Secretary: Feeling groovy...
The Captain: He's suspicious. These Earthlings are not as dumb as we thought.
Micky: You got a groovy pad here.
The Assistant: 'Groovy pad', term meaning 'alien spaceship no doubt marked for destruction'.
Micky: You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear this was an alien spaceship.
The Secretary: [narrating] Recognizing an alien is no easy task. They have all the human qualities: greed, anger, hate. So I'm not saying they're all bad.
Duplicate Micky: [the phone rings] Don't tear off that cat's head again, I can't stand it!
The Secretary: [quoting Mickey's robot duplicate] 'My feet aren't backwards, yours are'. The arrogance. Casting aspersion on the feet God gave us. Is nothing sacred to these aliens? We pause for a commercial.
Duplicate Micky: Gort! Veringa! Gort! Veringa! Klaatu barada nikto! Klaatu barada nikto!
Davy: I have called this meeting cause we have a serious problem. Either one of our ranks has his feet on backwards, or he's not one of our ranks.
Peter: I can see that all this questioning is wearing you out. Would you like a drink?
Duplicate Micky: I don't drink, I rust easily.
Davy: [gazing deep into duplicate Mickey's eyes] He's a robot, or he's been eating TV tubes.
Peter: Hey, wo- wouldn't you like to come with us?
Davy: That's a good idea!
Duplicate Micky: Thanks guys, I'd like to, but I have a little blender waiting for me on Zlotnick.
The Secretary: In summation, let me say once more, emphaticaly: We are being attacked by outer space. The time has come for us to stop sticking our bayonets into each other and start sticking our bayonets into space.