John: I’m totally dependent on your technology, now.
D’Argo: It’s not my technology, it’s Leviathan technology.
John: D’Argo, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you wanna call it, it’s your end of the universe. It’s your technology. It sure as hell ain’t mine.
Zhaan: Is something wrong?
John: Yep. I’m fed up.
Zhaan: “Fed up”? Do –
John: Oh, I’m sorry. Is this gonna be another translator microbe hiccup? “Oh, John – you’re fed up – does that mean you’ve had too many food cubes today?’ It was cute. It was vaguely – vaguely amusing the first six billion times.
Aeryn: I don’t understand what you’re talking about.
John: I’m going for a drive. Hitting the strip. I’m going cruising.
Aeryn: What’s going on?
John: I’m getting some space Aeryn, and I’m not talking about the space outside of the ship.
Aeryn: Look, this is hardly the time for human nonsense Crichton.
John: Oh, God! That is it! You are so – damn smart. There’s no time for any stupid human anything. And I’m sick of it Aeryn. I’m sick of Napoleon XVI. I’m sick of blue. I’m sick of tentacle boy. And guess what? I’m sick of you. I’m sick of this whole turd-burp end of the universe.
John: You guys are bugging out on me?
John: Well hakuna matata, Masata.
The villagers: Aloo-i-Masata, Aloo-i-Masata…
Rygel: No. Cease. I command it. I have not risen. I am not a deity. I am but a Worthy Being like yourselves. But I am your Sovereign.
John: The Slug Who Would Be King.