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!

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.

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!

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.

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?

Auntie Nelda:
Young Man, Would you please open that gate, I left my car running outside?

Auntie Nelda:
I brought him up with the best I could, but sometimes a bad thief pulls from even the most fragile flower.

Auntie Nelda:
Is this the way you'd treat your mother? Is this the kind of abuse that poor woman must endure?

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!

Auntie Nelda:
Now tell your mother how her son has improved the spited shaded in somewhat chicken pass.

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:
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!

Ernest P. Worrell:
That is the rudest bailiff I have ever seen in my life.