"I, Mudd" Line-by-Line!

Norman: This is contradictory. It is not logical. Mr. Spock, explain.

 

Kirk: Why not?

 

Spock: Logic is a little tweeting bird chirping in a meadow. Logic is a wreath of pretty flowers which smell bad. Are you sure your circuits are registering correctly? Your ears are green.

 

Kirk signals Scotty, who walks into the middle of the room, grabbing his chest and crying out in anguish.

Scotty: I cannae go on! I'm tired of happiness! I'm tired of comfort and pleasure! I'm ready! Kill me! Kill me!

Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Mudd walk toward Scotty, making gun gestures with their right hands and whistling.

Scotty: Good bye cruel universe...

Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Mudd "fire" again. Scotty slumps over on the ground.

 

McCoy: He's dead.

 

NORMAN: You cannot have killed him. You have no weapons.

 

Kirk: Scotty. Scotty's dead. He had too much happiness. But now he's happier he's dead, and we'll miss him. Let us hear it for our poor, dead friend.

(They laugh.)

Kirk: What is a man but that lofty spirit, that sense of enterprise, that devotion to something that cannot be sensed, cannot be realised but only dreamed! The highest reality.

 

MUDD: Brilliant! Bravo, bravo, Captain!

 

Kirk: How did you like it?

 

Norman: That is irrational. Illogical. Dreams are not real

 

KIRK: Our logic is to be illogical. That is our advantage. Mister Spock, it is time. The explosive.

 

SPOCK: Very well, Captain.
(He "removes" an invisible package from under his tunic.)

 

Scott: Explosive! (jumping up from being dead)

 

Mudd: Don't panic. Women and children first. Mister Spock, isn't that too much for our purposes?

 

^ that was two lines.

Mudd: Don't panic, women and children first.

Kirk: Mister Spock, isn't that too much for our purposes?

moving on.

Spock: I believe that is the correct amount, Captain. Mister Mudd, are you ready?

 

^ (continuing from Spock) Mister Mudd, are you ready?

MUDD: Aye, aye!

 

Spock: Be careful, I would not want you to drop it.

 

(Spock Mimes an underarm throw, and Mudd juggles before 'catching' it.)

McCoy: Easy now. Oh, he's caught it!

 

KIRK: Watch it! Watch it!
(Mudd puts 'it' on the floor.)

 

Mudd: (to McCoy) Detonator. Fuse. Primer. Mashie.

(Adopts a golfing stance.)