Ernest P. Worrell: I came! I saw! I got blowed up! Felix Nash: This guy is better off in jail. Ernest P. Worrell: Did you hear the one about the three legged dog that walked into a bar and said, "I'm lookin' for the guy that shot my paw." Ernest P. Worrell: Mr. Poodle-Smurf is lucky to have me. One day, I'm gonna walk into his office and I'll say: 'Oscar Babe'. Oscar Pendlesmythe: WHAT? Ernest P. Worrell: Oh good morning Mr. Poodle-Smurf, Puddle-Smit, Smiddle-Poot... Oscar Pendlesmythe: Pendlesmythe you idiot! Ernest P. Worrell: I've never been inside a restaurant that doesn't have a drive-thru window before. Felix Nash: Is everyone who works here a moron? Chuck: We're sorry, Ernest, Bobby didn't know the mace can was loaded. Guard: Eat, Greaseball! Ernest P. Worrell: I didn't order grease ball. Ernest P. Worrell: We're sequestered. And on top of that we can't even leave! This is just great. Ernest P. Worrell: 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... jail! Chuck: This guy is in love! L-U-V! Ernest is in love. Ernest and Charlotte sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first come love, then comes marriage, then comes Ernest pushing a baby carriage. Ernest P. Worrell: Death row? You mean like the chair, the hot seat, dead meat, deep 6, it's over pal, you're outta here bub, the groundhog's are bringing you your mail, you're picking turnips with a step ladder, the no tomorrow row? That kind of row? Oh no. The row? Felix Nash: Here, have a seat! [throws a chair at Ernest] Ernest P. Worrell: [to lawyer as he's being taken to the chair] You pal, you're not getting anymore of my business! Ernest P. Worrell: I've been vandalized by Elvis. Charlotte Sparrow (Miss Sparrow): Hey, what happened to your voice; you sound different? Felix Nash: Oh, I got a little laryngitis. Charlotte Sparrow (Miss Sparrow): [thinking Nash is Ernest]
What happened to your voice? You sound different?
Felix Nash: Oh, I got a little laryngitis. Auntie Nelda: The way they run this institution is an outrage, for a poor, tight, old lonely woman like me. Her only son of feathers is a terribly successful one. Young man? Young Man? [the gate guard comes out] Auntie Nelda: Young Man, Would you please open that gate, I left my car running outside? Gate Guard: Ma'am, You tell me how you got through this gate, the visitors area's on the other side of the prison. Auntie Nelda: I brought him up with the best I could, but sometimes a bad thief pulls from even the most fragile flower. Gate Guard: Ma'am, you are not going through this gate. Auntie Nelda: Is this the way you'd treat your mother? Is this the kind of abuse that poor woman must endure? Gate Guard: Well, I guess that my mother is a little bit mad -... Auntie Nelda: Mmmhmm! You ought to be in the slammer with the rest of these misfits! If you had any remorse at all for the HORROR you pushed your mother through, you'd open that gate! I have a car overheating as we SPEAK! [Ernest makes a snooty expression at the Gate Guard] Gate Guard: Ok, Ok. [picks up phone] Gate Guard: All right! Lets open the east gate. [hangs it up] Gate Guard: There, Now you satisfied? Auntie Nelda: Now tell your mother how her son has improved the spited shaded in somewhat chicken pass. Auntie Nelda: [lying about her prison balls] The doctor told me that I'd only have to wear these until after the sugery. Felix Nash: Don't worry about that diet, tubby. Once I set this fuse, you'll lose all that weight. Ernest P. Worrell: So it's come to this. A pointless, miserable end to a shallow, meaningless life. But it's as it should be. It's the hand I've been dealt, and I have to play it as it lays. Oh, I'm not going to cry because life's thrown me a curve. I'm not going to whine because I got mashed potatoes when French fries is what I really wanted. It's time for me to step up to the plate, belly up to the bar! It's time for me to look fate square in the eye, flare my nostrils, breathe life's last breath! It's time for me to lie down with lions so I can soar with the eagles! All right! I'm ready! Come and get me! Let's do it! Ernest P. Worrell: [finding Rimshot in the trashcan] What kind of person would throw away a perfectly good dog? [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 crew, and a guard comes up from behind him and hits him] Ernest P. Worrell: I hope you've got a good story to tell my boss! After all, I do have a living to earn. Mean prison guard: Now look, Nash -... Ernest P. Worrell: My name is "Worrel, Ernest P. Worrel." Mean prison guard: Oh, Mister Funny-Man, huh? Yeah, Mister Funny-Man. You'll think funny when you're tapping to the tune of 2-20, son! [throws him into his cell, right next to them]
Ernest P. Worrell