Timmy: You know, I'm not so sure we should go into space just 'cause a circus monkey picked our name from a hat.
Mr. Turner: That's exactly why we should go. Monkeys are never wrong about space travel.
[later, the rocket is headed right for the sun]
Mr. Turner: We're headed for the sun! We got a defective monkey!

Mrs. Turner: We're breaking up, we need to jettison the extra weight.
Mr. Turner: Er...bowling balls, barbells, my suit of armor....Timmy's fish! [kicks open the rocket door and throws out the fishbowl]
Timmy: Aaah! You couldn't have thrown out the barbells?
Mr. Turner: They're your mother's, Timmy. I can't even lift them!

Timmy: Doug Dimmadome? What are you doing here?
"Doug"/Dark Laser: I ain't here, [in Dark Laser's voice] 'cause I'm not Doug Dimmadome. I am Dark Laser. And you, Timmy Turner, have fallen for the old circus-monkey-picked-your-name-from-a-hat-to-win-a-trip-to-space-contest trick.

Timmy: You built a zoo? That's like the lamest plan ever.
Dark Laser: I don't think so, because I also built a mall! [laughs] It's another clever money-making scheme. I call it the Death Mall on the Death Ball. It was built by my friend Sol last fall. He's tall, you should give him a call.

Dark Laser: This is the hideously unpleasant habitat where you will live like caged animals.
Mrs. Turner: It looks just like our house on Earth.
Dark Laser: Yes, but with a few horrifying additions like a media room with a big screen TV!
Mr. and Mrs. Turner: Noooooo........ [they stop and exchange looks]
Dark Laser: What? You don't find that terrifying?
[Mr. And Mrs. Turner wink and nudge each other]
Mr. Turner: Of course we do, Mr. Dark Laser. I just hop you don't give me a mini fridge full of cherry sodas. Oh, that would be unbearable. [he and Mrs. Turner pretend to cry]
Dark Laser: Really? Guards! Bring in the mini fridge and cherry sodas!

Wanda: Oh no, it's the Death Ball! Cosmo, do you know what that means?
Cosmo: It means Doug Dimmadome was really Dark Laser in disguise, and the contest was just a trick to capture Timmy. Duh.
Wanda: Wow, Cosmo. That's so not like you to figure that out.
Cosmo: You're right! That must mean I'm not really Cosmo! I'd better pull off this disguise. [he pulls and stretch his face] Wow, whoever I am, I used a lot of glue!

Mr. Turner: Please, Mr. Dark Laser, I can't take much more or this. Whatever you do, don't give me a hi-def premium sports package for my TV.
Mrs. Turner: And I beg you, don't give me a butler to serve me a cobb salad [sobs and bursts into tears] with ranch on the side.
Dark Laser: Guards! Install the hi-def sports package and bring in the butler! With ranch on the side!

Wanda: Cosmo, what're you doing? We said we'd meet 10 minutes ago.
Cosmo: I got a job! I'm the fry cook here at Head on a Stick!
Wanda: Cosmo, that's gross!
Cosmo: I know, but I earned enough Death Dollars to take us all to the alien zoo! I hear everyone loves that place!
Timmy: [at the zoo] I hate this place! Stop laughing at me!

Cosmo: There's nothing funnier than watching some stupid earthling get eaten by a space whale. Oh, Timmy would love this show!

Dark Laser as Timmy: [to the guards] Unhand me, fools. I'm Dark Laser. Flipsie, tell them who I am! [Flipsie just flips] That's cute but it's not helping!

Timmy: Guys, one last wish!
Wanda: You got it, sport! One killer space whale, coming up!

Mrs. Turner: Oh my godness! We are going to outer space?

Orcatron: [Orcatron eats Dark Laser] Tastes great! But could use a little ranch on the side. [Orcatron floats away in space]
Dark Laser: Flipsy, help!!

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