Jack Deth: Dry hair's for squids. Now come on. Let's get outta here.
Jack Deth: Last January, I finally singed Martin Whistler out on one of the rim planets. Since then, I've been hunting down the last of his murdering cult. We call them "Trancers:" slaves to Whistler's psychic power. Not really alive, not dead enough. It's July now, and I'm tired. Real tired.
Jack Deth: What I do wrong?
Leena: I don't know, maybe you're schizo or something.
Jack Deth: What? What does that mean?
Leena: Last night you said you grew up in L.A. Today, you couldn't find Cahuanga Boulevard, you put that shit in your hair, you can't even remember my name!
Mrs. Santa Claus: Leena! Get over here!
Jack Deth: Your name's Leena?
Leena: Did I give you my phone number?
Jack Deth: No.
Leena: Oh, thank God.
Jack Deth: I'm from another time, another world. I don't even know what you people eat for lunch.
[Jack has just time-traveled back into Phil's body, waking up in bed with Lena]
Jack Deth: Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, Phil...
[Jack hears 'Whistler's Mother' advertised at an art auction]
Jack Deth: I didn't know he had a mother.
Santa Claus: [mouth closed; voice of Whistler] Welcome to the twentieth century, Jack Deth.
Baby McNulty: Say, who's the skirt? Nice!
Jack Deth: [to McNulty] If I catch you in L.A. again, I don't care if you're a kid, an old lady, or a kitty cat, I'm gonna kick your ass!
Whistler: [Chairman Spencer plays a holographic message from Martin Whistler for Jack Deth] Greetings to the Council. As you may have gathered, I have survived the pathetic trap set by Trooper Deth on Mekon VII. For twelve long years, you have hunted my disciples like dogs. Now my day of vengeance is at hand. I've synthesized your time drug, and in a moment, shall retreat down the dark corridors of history. Know that it is I who am solely responsible for your demise. One by one, your ancestors shall be murdered, and you, their progeny, shall cease to exist. Then shall I return, join my legion, and claim the seat of power for my own. Adieu. Adieu...
Mrs. Santa Claus: Security! We've got trouble on the North Pole!