Adam: What the- Dark Helmet?
Dark Helmet: Take my hand, Adam F. Goldberg. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.
Adam: Dude, you're not my dad.
Dark Helmet: Oh, yeah? Then explain this!
Adam: No! That's impossible! I will never join you!
Dark Helmet: Oh, I see your Schwartz has grown.
Adam: I'm in high school now.
Dark Helmet: Yeah, I was a late bloomer myself. Now die!
Adam: What's this?
Dark Helmet: Uh, nothing.
Adam: Spaceballs II.
Dark Helmet: Oh, it's just a little script I'm noodling with. It's stupid. Actually, I'm super proud of it. Read it if you want. I don't care. You know what? I'd love to act it out for you. And so Pizza the Hutt says, "Dark Helmet wins the intergalactic ski race!" And I'm like, "You know it." Then all my subjects cheer, and the princess is like, "Kiss me already." And I do. [smooches]
Adam: Awesome! I give you my word. I will get this made.
Dark Helmet: Oh, stop.
Adam: Take my hand, Dark Helmet. Join me, and together we can make this sequel.
[Adam bolts up in bed, where Beverly is lying next to him]
Beverly: Ohh, my little Schmoopie's having a bad dream.
Adam: No, this is my nightmare!