Interviewer: Well, can you... destroy the Earth?
Tick: Egad. I hope not. That's where I keep all my stuff.
The Evil Midnight Bomber: So she says to me, do you wanna be a BAD boy? And I say yeah baby yeah! Surf's up space ponies! I'm makin' gravy... Without the lumps. HAAA-ha-ha-ha.
Tick: Yeah, well, don't count your weasels before they pop, dink.
Tick: I am mighty. I have a glow you cannot see. I have a heart as big as the moon. As warm as bathwater. We are superheroes, men, we don't have time to be charming. The boots of evil were made for walkin'. We're watching the big picture, friend. We know the score. We are a public service, not glamour boys. Not captains of industry, not makers of things. Keep your vulgar moneys! We are a justice sandwich, no toppings necessary! Living rooms of America, do you catch my drift? Do you dig?
Tick: I don't know the meaning of the word "surrender." I mean, I know it, I'm not dumb... just not in this context.
Tick: Bad man... hit dog... with street.
Tick: I'm taking off the kid gloves, and putting on the very mad gloves.
Tick: It's your turn now, Thorace-bog.
Thrakkorzog: It's Thrakkorzog. Thrakkorzog. With a K.
Tick: We're only serving humble pie, Whatchamazog.
Thrakkorzog: For the last time, it's.
Tick: Thorax-and-a-bog. Four-yacks-and-a-dog.
Thrakkorzog: No.
Tick: Ah, laxative-log.
Thrakkorzog: No, no, no.
Tick: Sapsucker-frog.
Thrakkorzog: Thrakkorzog.
Tick: Susan?
Thrakkorzog: Now you're doing it on purpose. How juvenile.
Tick: Brace yourself while Corporate America tries to sell us its wretched things.
Tick: I'm betting that I'm just abnormal enough to survive.
Tick: Mucal invader, is there no end to your oozing?
Tick: Don't ever try to swim against the mighty tide of justice.
Tick: And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.
The Evil Midnight Bomber: Yeah, baby, yeah! I'm the Midnight Bomber what bombs at midnight.
Tick's Brain: Tick, this is your mind speaking.
Tick: Oh. Hello.
Tick's Brain: Sorry I haven't been around much lately but I'm easily distracted by shiny objects.
Tick: Destiny's powerful hand has made the bed of my future, and it's up to me to lie in it. I am destined to be a superhero. To right wrongs, and to pound two-fisted justice into the hearts of evildoers everywhere. And you don't fight destiny. No sir. And, you don't eat crackers in the bed of your future, or you get all... scratchy.
Tick: Arthur, you have no historical perspective. Science in those days worked in broad strokes. They got right to the point. Nowadays, it's all just molecule, molecule, molecule. Nothing ever happens big.
Bi-Polar Bear: This looks like a job for Bi-Polar Bear... but I just can't seem to get out of bed.
Tick: Everybody was a baby once, Arthur. Oh, sure, maybe not today, or even yesterday. But once. Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception.
Tick: You know why super villains are so unhappy, Arthur? They don't treasure the little things.
