Whispers:
You've never been closer, closer, closer.
The darkness is our enemy, enemy, enemy.
Spin me a cocoon.

Alvin:
Look at that Scuzzy. Over in the clearing.

Brittany:
What do you think it is Moldy?

Alvin:
I don't know. Maybe an alien mother-ship.

Brittany:
Ah, what makes you think that?

Alvin:
Call it instinct.

Brittany:
Uh, I call it unscientific. You and your guesses.
Ah, why don't you go to Vegas where you belong?

Alvin:
Scuzzy, it's taking off! Let's follow it.

Brittany:
We're too young to drive.

Alvin:
We've got to go. The truth is out there.

Brittany:
I wonder what's inside.

Alvin:
Green, prehistoric bugs. Extraterrestrial DNA. Big blue.

Brittany:
Ah, is that another one of your hunches.

Alvin:
An educated hunch.

Brittany:
It, it's landing!

Alien:
Do you know where they're holding the Roswell celebration?

Alvin:
I think it's in Roswell.

Alien:
Is that a guess or a fact?

Alvin:
An educated guess.

Brittany:
It's near Las Legas.

Alien:
Oh yes, where Elvis played.

Brittany:
Elvis is dead.

Alien:
No he's not. Oops, you didn't hear that from me. Thank you.

Alvin:
Say it Scuzzy.

Brittany:
Ah, okay.
Science is no match, ah, for a good guesser.

Alvin:
Ten times.

Brittany:
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.
Science is no match for a good guesser.

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