A hapless store clerk must foil criminals to save the life of the man who, miniaturized in a secret experiment, was accidentally injected into him.

Lt. Tuck Pendleton: We're gonna drink this one to Ozzie. A good man who tried to save my ass by injecting me into yours.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: I'm right here, INSIDE you INSIDE YOUR BODY!
Jack Putter: [stands up] Oh God! Somebody help me! I'M POSSESSED!
Dr. Greenbush: Nice wedding. You know, Jack, next week, I'd like you to swing by the office. I have some new tests I'd like to run on you...
Wendy: Jack, I think we should try dating. Maybe not exclusively at first, at least for me, but...
Mr. Wormwood: Jack, since you're not going on the cruise, I sure could use you at the store on Monday
Jack Putter: [realization dawns on him] That was the Cowboy.
[runs away]
Lydia's Editor: Who's the Cowboy?
Dr. Niles: It's um... classified.
Jack Putter: [stops and turns around - to Doctor Greenbush] Doc, I'm cured!
Jack Putter: [to Wendy] Wendy, not a chance!
Jack Putter: [to Mr. Wormwood] And Mr. Wormwood, thank you! And I quit.
[runs and jumps into Tuck's car]
[Jack hears Tuck talking to him in the doctor's office]
Jack Putter: Did you hear that?
Waiting Room Patient: Hear what?
Jack Putter: You didn't hear that then?
Waiting Room Patient: Noooo, I'm sorry, I didn't hear anything. Are you feeling all right?
Jack Putter: Would I *BE* in a *DOCTOR'S OFFICE* if I *WAS* feeling all right?
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: [instructing him to get his jacket/car keys out of his locker] See that door?
Jack Putter: Yeah.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Use it.
[Jack turns away from it]
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Well what are you waiting for?
Jack Putter: Look, don't rush me, okay? Just... just be quiet for a second, let me think this through.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Jack, excuse me, but I want you to factor this into your thinking, alright? You heard the man! My air supply's running out! If you don't help me, you're going to wind up with this miniaturized submersible pod floating around your insides with this teeny tiny human skeleton at the helm.
Jack Putter: [very disgusted] ... ugh.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Not a pretty thought!
[pickup line]
The Cowboy: Women love me. But you know that.
Jack Putter: [Regarding the "theistic hysteria" Jack seems to be suffering from] H-how do you treat that?
Dr. Greenbush: Well the medieval remedy was to flay the skin off your body with brands of fire. I have no idea what the current technique is.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: When things are at their darkest, pal, it's a brave man that can kick back and party.
Dr. Greenbush: Uh, good news Jack! I think we can rule out demonic possession right off the bat.
Jack Putter: But, the little voice from inside was talking to me.
Dr. Greenbush: See, that proves it: demons talk THROUGH you - not TO you.
Mr. Wormwood: You've got a great future in front of you in Retail Food marketing, and I just hate to see you throw it all away by going psycho on us.
Victor Scrimshaw: Come in here you Safeway clerk!
Jack Putter: What exactly are we doing here?
Lydia Maxwell: We're waiting for someone.
Jack Putter: oh, who are we we waiting for?
Lydia Maxwell: The Cowboy. I've been tracking his movements for months and he got to the airport about an hour ago and he always stays here.
[points to the hotel]
Lydia Maxwell: I have a feeling he's gonna lead us right to that chip we need.
Jack Putter: Why do you think that?
[looking at her legs]
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: [noticing Jack is ogling Lydia] Hey, knock it off!
Lydia Maxwell: 'Cause he's a fence. He deals in stolen technology, Western technology almost exclusively, which he then sells overseas to the highest bidder. Who do you think introduced Velcro to the Persian Gulf?
Jack Putter: Really?
Lydia Maxwell: [nodding] Mm hmm.
Victor Scrimshaw: In lieu of champagne, how about some real pain? Propane?
Man in Restroom: [Jack is talking while urinating in a urinal] Play with it, pal. Don't talk to it.
Victor Scrimshaw: [trapped in the miniaturizer with Canker] We're in here!
Cop: Who's in there?
Dr. Margaret Canker: The green button!
Scrimshaw's Henchman: Dr. Canker?
Victor Scrimshaw: [to the henchman] Press the green button, you fool!
Dr. Margaret Canker: He'll never find it!
Victor Scrimshaw: The man's a high school graduate! The green button, you fool!
[Scrimshaw, shrunk down to half his normal size, is grappling with Jack inside a speeding car]
Victor Scrimshaw: You insignificant little pipsqueak, I'm in charge here!
Jack Putter: I'm possessed!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: [Getting nauseated by the sight of Igoe's skeleton] Jack... it worked. You just digested the bad guy.
[Jack burps]
[Margaret prepares to inject a miniaturized Igoe into Jack]
Victor Scrimshaw: Now, wait a minute. What happens once Igoe's taken control of their pod?
Dr. Margaret Canker: Mr. Igoe will pilot the pod out through a tear duct or a sweat gland.
Victor Scrimshaw: Why chance that? Once he's gotten control of the pod and takes the chip, let's re-enlarge.
Dr. Margaret Canker: While it's still inside Mr. Putter?
Victor Scrimshaw: Why not?
Dr. Margaret Canker: Have you any idea what kind of mess that would make?
[reading from computer, how to enlarge a person]
Jack Putter: Eat me, drink me? What is that? From The Exorcist? No, Alice in Wonderland! Alice she drank something to be big and ate something to be small.
[Into a mirror]
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: The Tuck Pendleton machine: zero defects.
[Jack and Lydia encounter a henchman in the stairwell; Lydia aims a gun at him]
Scrimshaw's Henchman: Hold it!
Lydia Maxwell: You hold it!
Scrimshaw's Henchman: I bet it ain't even loaded!
Lydia Maxwell: Oh yeah?
[she aims the gun at the ceiling and fires; it clicks emptily]
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: [while fighting Mr. Igoe]
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Make a pull on this Pal!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: [about to dump Mr. Igoe into Jack's stomach] Ok pal. Here's how I spell relief.
Dream Lady: Listen sweetie, I don't carry that kind of cash around with me.
Rusty: And give that 'crippled Tomcat' story a rest. We've all heard it!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Oh, gosh, Rusty, you're right. 'Course, when MY moment of glory came, I didn't take a dump down the leg of MY flight suit!
Victor Scrimshaw: Nuclear weapons, Jack. They mean nothing. Everybody's got 'em, nobody has the balls to use 'em. Am I right?
[Jack shrugs, then tries to say something]
Victor Scrimshaw: Space, you say? Space is a flop. Didn't you know that?
[Jack shakes his head]
Victor Scrimshaw: An endless junkyard of orbiting debris. Ah, but! - miniaturization, Jack. That's the ticket. That's the edge everybody's been looking for. Who will have that edge Jack? What country... will control miniaturization?
[takes a puff of his cigar]
Victor Scrimshaw: Frankly, I don't give a shit. I'm only in this for the money. And that's why, Jack, we've got to get that little pod out
[prods Jack's side]
Victor Scrimshaw: from inside of you!
[laughs maniacally around his cigar]
Jack Putter: Jack Putter to the rescue!
[Lydia herds Scrimshaw and his thugs into the miniaturizer at gunpoint, while Jack is fiddling with the control panel]
Dr. Margaret Canker: Don't worry, they won't know how to close it.
[the door closes over them]
Victor Scrimshaw: Certainly not. I'll get you for this, Margaret.
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: It was the night we first met. You were doing that article about me... we had dinner and talked until 3:00 a.m. I got drunk and threw up, and fell down a manhole walking you home.
Stewardess: [seeing the cowboy lighting up his cigar] I'm sorry sir, but you're gonna have to extinguish that cigar.
The Cowboy: [extinguishes his cigar in his hand and sniffs his hand] Mmmmmm. There's nothing like a good cigar. Eh? Partner?
[puts his cigar in the man's suit pocket]
Jack Putter: We've got the chip!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: All right!
Jack Putter: We're on the way to the lab!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: All right!
Jack Putter: But I think they put someone in there with you!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: All... what?
Victor Scrimshaw: Putter, don't be a Putz! Get in here!
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Oh no, she knows about the suitcase?
Lt. Tuck Pendleton: Of course, the most fun I've ever had is tryin' to land a crippled F-14 with a stubborn nose gear on the deck of a rolling flat-top in zero visibility...

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