Sally: Look at this place. Our first hotel room.
Tommy: Wow! Why do I suddenly have the urge to trash it?
Harry: Hey, you guys, look at this tiny bottle I found in the bathroom. Evidence of a superior race of tiny people.
Tommy: How can you tell they're superior?
Harry: Because it's a shampoo and conditioner in one.
Sally: [gasps] A tiny fridge filled with tiny bottles of alcohol and tiny bags of macadamia nuts!
Tommy: Wow! These people might be tiny, but they know how to party.
Harry: How do they get up on the bed, especially when they're all drunk and fat on nuts?

Dick: [to the mirror] How can you look at yourself? Deceiving the person you love for the sake of a mission. Look at you. You're gorgeous!

George Takei: Live long and prosper. Hailing frequencies open, everybody. I'm George Takei. Seeing all of you here makes me feel like a kid again, almost as if, as Mr. Sulu once said, my chronometer's running backwards.
Harry: Ha! You people are living a lie. Look at yourselves, embracing negative alien stereotypes. Did you ever stop to think that maybe aliens are friendly, kind, attractive people?
George Takei: Uh, security?
Harry: Hath not an alien eyes or buttocks? If you prick an alien, does it not say "Ow, ow, ow"? We should not embrace science fiction. Screw sci-fi. Instead, we should embrace science fact-- sci-fa.
Tommy: Um, Harry, let's go now.
Harry: Long live sci-fa.