久久久无码人妻精品无码_6080YYY午夜理论片中无码_性无码专区_无码人妻品一区二区三区精99

Andy Warhol: Very nice. Blink. That's good. Look in the camera.

Agent J: Is that Andy Warhol?

Agent K: Yep. Excuse me, Mr Warhol, could we have a minute?

Andy Warhol: Now is not a good time. This is a be-in.

Agent K: Just a few questions.

Andy Warhol: No questions. No answers. Just being.

Agent K: We have an urgent matter we’d like to discuss with you regarding one of your party guests.

Andy Warhol: Why don't you come back next week, after the happening has happened.

Agent J: I’m sorry, Mr Warhol. You like talking slow. We got important stuff to do. I've got a planet to save.

Andy Warhol: You're distressing. Everything about you upsets me. Damn it, K! Are you trying to blow my cover?

Agent K: Agent W, your cover is safe.

Agent J: Whoa, Andy Warhol is one of us?

Andy Warhol: Safe? You out of your mind? I'm so out of ideas. I'm painting soup cans and bananas for chrissakes.

Agent J: Actually, Mr Warhol, I gotta tell you, I really love your work.

Andy Warhol: Oh, thank you. Who's the dumb-ass?

Agent J: Whoa. Hey. How about a little professional courtesy here?

Andy Warhol: Was that dumb-ass?

Agent J: Say it again.

Andy Warhol: You want me to?

Agent J: I dare you.

Andy Warhol: Dumb-ass.

Agent K: Agents.

Agent J: You know, I have no problem pimp-slapping the shiznit out of Andy Warhol.

Andy Warhol: What?

Agent J: Why are you looking at me? Oh, all right. You know what? Agent K, while you see what information you can get from Agent W, I'll go case the perimeter. That work for everybody?

Agent K: Go do that.

Agent J: How about that?

Andy Warhol: Oh, cute.

Agent J: Okay.

Andy Warhol: Very nice. Someone forget his nap?

Black transvestite: Hey, how you doing?

Agent J: Chilling.

Andy Warhol: Who's that guy? OK. Don't tell me he's your new partner.

Agent K: Actually, he's my old partner. He traveled back from the future to save the planet...

Andy Warhol: Jesus. Stop, don't tell me. I don't want to know.

Woman: Andy, Yoko's here.

Andy Warhol: Yoko's here. Tell her that I'm filming this man eating a hamburger. It's transcendent. All right, now the pickle. So what are you doing on my turf, K?

Agent K: Tracking a killer. Boglodite. We have reason to believe he's gonna hit here next, a Glamourian.

Andy Warhol: Glamourian? Right solar system, wrong planet. He's gotta be after the Archanan.

Agent K: You know, Archanans are extinct.

Andy Warhol: Apparently they are not. One washed ashore last week. The whole Roswell circuit's all abuzz about it. Alien unicorn. Last of its species. His name's Griffin. Griffin the Archanan.

Agent J: How's it going?

Griffin: Going? How's it going? Oh that depends. For me, personally, it’s good, things are good. Unless of course we’re in the possible future, where the muscle boy argues with his girlfriend, which causes her to storm away and bump the guy carrying the stuffed mushrooms who dumps the tray on the sailors on leave. And a shoving match breaks out next to the coffee table here. In which case, I gotta move my plate right now. Or if it's the possible future where the pastrami sandwich I'm eating causes me gastric distress. But, thankfully, your friend, sir, will offer some of the antacids he carries in his right pocket, so good. I'll be good. Except in the case of the possible future where I have to leave in two and a half minutes just before he has a chance to offer me the antacids, so on the whole, I'd have to say not good. I am not good. But that depends.

Agent J: K!

Agent K: How will we gonna find this guy?

Andy Warhol: What am I, a schmuck?

Agent K: What? He's here?

Andy Warhol: "Here" is a relative term. He's a fifth dimensional being. They can live in and visualize an infinite set of time-space probabilities simultaneously.

Agent K: Sounds like fun. Good work.

Andy Warhol: Whoa, whoa, K, K, K. You gotta fake my death, okay? I can't listen to sitar music anymore.

Agent K: All right, I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to X.

Andy Warhol: K, I can't tell the women from the men.

Griffin: May I see your watch?

Agent J: Oh, it is 7:18.

Griffin: No, no, no, your other watch, the one your father gave you.

Agent J: How do you know about my father's watch?

Griffin: Oh, dear. This is the one where Roman is dead and the gentleman at the bowling alley. So much death. Such an infinitesimally small chance for success.

Agent J: K!

Agent K: Griffin, right? We're here--

Griffin: Because of Boris the Animal.

Agent K: Correct. We believe he's coming--

Griffin: To kill me. Yes. He'll be here in two minutes, unless of course we're in the possible future where he made the lights and is about to get here early and just about to discharge weapons from the doorway, in which case we're all dead in two seconds. Ah. Good, that was a close one.

Agent J: K, I need a space gun.

Griffin: The Boglodites consume any planet in their path. Mine, Roman's, the Parlaxians'. I tried to stop them, but if we can stop them here, if we can deny them Earth, we can stop them forever. They'll starve before they reach the next planet. Sixty-three seconds.

Agent K: How do we do that? Stop them?

Griffin: What? Oh, sorry. I have something for you. A gift. It can protect you. I had to hide it from Boris, but if you find me again, I'll give it to you. Thank you. What a game! Amazing! It's a real miracle!

Agent J: What do you mean? What miracle?

Griffin: Thirty seconds. I have to go.

Agent J: No, no, no, we got you.

Griffin: Negative possibilities are multiplying as we speak.

Agent J: Okay.

Griffin: Twenty seconds.

Agent J: All right. Just...We got it, relax.

Griffin: If your watch is broken and I have gastric--

Man: Fly! Find your place in the world!

Griffin: Oh, dear. This is the one where Boris is coming through that door in 12, 11, 10-- Wait! Did you have chocolate milk this morning?

Agent J: Yes.

Griffin: Cindy.

Agent J: K! Griffin!

Agent K: Got him.