Byers: My name is John Fitzgerald Byers. I was named after our 35th president, and I keep having this beautiful dream. In my dream, the events of November 22nd, 1963, never happened. In it, my namesake was never assassinated. Other things are different, too, in my dream. My country is hopeful and innocent; young again. Young in spirit. My fellow citizens trust their elect officials, never once having been betrayed by them. My government is truly "of the people, by the people, for the people." All my hopes for my country, for myself . . . all are fulfilled. I have everything a person could want: home and family . . . and love. Everything that counts for anything in life . . . I have it. But the dream ends the same way every time. I lose it all.
Glasses Man: Bring your wife?
Bald Man: You think I'm sitting here, I'd bring my wife? Dumb ass brought his wife.
Bearded Man: 'Cause I'm the man; I say I'm playing poker, I play poker. Meanwhile, your wife is back in Plano, boinking the mailman.
Frohike: Hey man, you wanna thunderdome, let's go.
Langly: Three thousand dollars . . . I told you to fold. It should have been me in there playing, why does Byers get to do the undercover?
Frohike: (flicking Langly's hair) 'Cause this ain't Woodstock.
Frohike: Yeah, well I'm gonna go way out on a limb here and say, it's the t-shirt.
Langly: Yeah, maybe both of you could wear one that says "I'm with stupid."
Byers: I almost won.
Frohike: Yeah, you and everyone else.
Mulder's Voice: It's the Lone Gunmen. They're onto something big.
Scully: What, exactly?
Mulder's Voice: It's really important. Trust me.
Scully: Yeah, I trust you, Mulder, it's the Three Stooges I'm not so sure about.
Byers: It was her. She's here. I've got to find her!
Frohike: You've gotta find some ice, you need a drink.
(From the bottom of the ice bucket, we see Byers drop his face into the cold water after he sees Suzanne with the DoD guy.)
Langly: Byers is trying to kill himself.
Frohike: Stop trying to kill yourself, Byers, it's not deep enough.
Langly: Doo-doo, kaa-kaa, poo-poo.
Jimmy: Oh, go brush your hair, Michael Bolton.
Langly: What if "they" did something to him? You know, to make him pancake himself?
Scully: Who's "they?"
Langly: You know, "them."
(Scully nods with a yeah-right attitude.)
Scully: What happened?
Langly: I'm thinking that you got a little queasy and took a header. You know blood and guts can bother some people.
Scully: Yeah, I guess.
Langly: You gonna be alright?
Scully: Sure, cutie.
Langly: So . . . you're done with Jimmy?
Scully: Done, done, done. (tries to push table) How do you roll this thing?
Langly: Uhhhm, Scully? What killed him?
Scully: My medical opinion? BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! (claps hands loudly)
Langly: And that's all you found?
Scully: That's all I know.
Langly: Autopsy was negatory. Jimmy squished himself.
Frohike: And where is the scruptious Agent Scully?
Frohike: They're just lucky I got a conscience.
Langly: How's that?
Frohike: If I unleashed my true kung-fu on this casino, I could break the bank within a week.
Langly: And find yourself buried under six feet of desert dirt.
Langly: I'm gonna go play a little D&D, uh, in memorium.
Frohike: That's touching, man.
(Man whispers something into Scully's ear.)
Scully: No, that's not nice. I like Hickey. (Scully rubs Frohike's head, messing up his hair.)
Fletcher: Cigarette?
(Scully leans in and removes a cigarette with her lips.)
Frohike: You don't smoke.
Scully: But who's got a match? (a dozen lighters pop in front of her.) Well . . . I just can't decide who lights my fire.
Modeski: This will counteract the anoitic effect.
Scully: (to Langly) Hi, cutie. (Susanne injects Scully) Oow . . . just a little prick . .
Langly: Bad trip?
Modeski: Nah, she'll be fine. She just needs to sleep it off.
Frohike: (quietly to Scully) Good work, party girl.
Timmy: You know the best thing about killing you three . . . I won't have to dress like you anymore . . .
(Timmy is cut off as Byers uses the injector gun on his ankle, shooting him up. He loses his balance and falls on Byers.)
Byers: Oh, get him off me.
Timmy: (delirious, to Langly) Hi, cutie . . .
Scully: (on her cellphone, shouting) Hello, Mulder? Can you hear me? I'm at the hotel. Where are you? What do you mean, "what hotel," Las Vegas. I'm in Las Vegas, aren't you? You called me. What do you mean you didn't call me? Oh man, I am gonna kick their asses.
Frohike: So you wanna hit the slots?
Langly: You know, Byers, growing old with us ain't so bad.
Frohike: Oh, shut up, Langly. You really want him to kill himself?
Langly: Got any quarters?
6x18 6x20
