Buffy: The Moments that Made Me Laugh, Part II

And from the later years...

As the gang is trying to destroy Adam:
BUFFY: Colonel—
COLONEL: Shut up. You've got some nerve, lady. You think you and your friends can just keep waltzing into a government installation brandishing weapons like-- Like--
WILLOW: It's a gourd.
GILES: A magic gourd.
COLONEL: What kind of freaks are you people?


XANDER: Right you can’t just go ‘librum incendere’ and expect.. (The page of Xander’s book bursts into flame. He slams the book closed, extinguishing the fire.)
GILES: Xander, don’t speak Latin in front of the books.



Xander snaps back after Dracula's turned him into a slavish Renfeld:
XANDER: (back to talking normally) Where is he?? Where’s the creep that turned me into his spider-eating man-bitch?
BUFFY: He’s gone.
XANDER: Dammit! You know what? I’m sick of this crap. I’m sick of being the guy who eats insects and gets the funny syphilis. As of this moment, it’s over. I’m finished being everybody’s butt-monkey!
BUFFY: Check. No more butt-monkey.


SPIKE: I will know your blood, Slayer. (pause) I will make your neck my chalice ... and drink deep. (He wipes blood from his nose again, turns, and tries to stride away purposefully, but he falls into an open grave. Long shot of the graveyard looking empty, with the open grave in the foreground.)
SPIKE: (voice coming from the grave) Ow!


The Watcher's Council comes to town and begins questioning everyone:
NIGEL: Good. I need to know a little bit more about the Slayer, and about the both of you. Your relationship, whatever you can tell me.
TARA: O-o-our relationship?
WILLOW: We’re friends.
TARA: Good friends.
WILLOW: Girlfriends, actually.
TARA: Yes, we’re girlfriends.
WILLOW: We’re in love. We’re ... lovers. (puts hand on Tara’s knee) We’re lesbian, gay-type lovers.
NIGEL: I meant your relationship with the Slayer. (Both girls look embarrassed. Willow removes her hand from Tara’s knee.)
TARA: Um, just good friends.


BUFFY: Stay close but don’t crowd her. We’ll follow in a minute. Everybody knows their jobs. Remember, the ritual starts, we all die. And I’ll kill anyone who comes near Dawn. (exits)
SPIKE: Well, not exactly the St. Crispin’s Day speech, was it?
GILES: “We few...we happy few...”
SPIKE: “We band of buggered...”


JONATHAN: Where’re we going?
WARREN: To Final Jeopardy. Where Buffy’s the one in jeopardy.
ANDREW: We are really super-villains now, like ... like Dr. No.
WARREN: Yeah, back when Bond was Connery, and movies were decent.
JONATHAN: (scornful) Who remembers Connery? I mean, Roger Moore was smooth.
WARREN: You’re insane. You’re short, and you’re insane.
ANDREW: I like Timothy Dalton! (Warren smacks Andrew upside the head.) Hey!
WARREN: Don’t make me pull over, okay?
(later)
WARREN: Connery is Bond. He had style.
JONATHAN: Yeah, but Roger Moore was funny.
WARREN: Moonraker? The gondola turns into a hovercraft? It’s retarded. Besides, the guy had, like, no edge.
ANDREW: Dalton had edge. In Licence to Kill he was a rogue agent. That’s edgy. And he was amazing in The Living Daylights.
JONATHAN: Yeah, which was written for Roger Moore, not Timothy Dalton!
WARREN: Okay, this is stupid! We’re wasting time. End of discussion. (beat) I mean, there’s a shot of like pigeons, doing double-takes when the gondola blasted by! Moonraker ... is inexcusable.
WARREN: Connery is the only actor of the bunch.
ANDREW: Timothy Dalton should get an Oscar and BEAT SEAN CONNERY OVER THE HEAD WITH IT!!
WARREN: (grimly) Okay, that’s it. (they scuffle)
JONATHAN: Hey! Stop it! Guys! (Sees Buffy approaching in the monitors) Look!
ANDREW: Oh, she’s coming over here! What do we do?
WARREN: Jonathan, grab your magic bone! (they giggle)


After everyone loses their memories, Anya and Giles believe they're married.
GILES: Perhaps we should try another book. (Anya’s standing on a chair, surrounded by bunnies)
ANYA: No! This book made the little fluffers, and this book’s gonna send ‘em back. I’ve got it this time, okay. (reads) ‘Himble abri, abri voyon.’ (Another bunny)
GILES: Yes, dear.
(... later ...)
GILES: Clearly that is not a helpful book, darling. Come down, and we will go about fixing this in a sensible fashion!
ANYA: Sensible! You think it’s sensible for me to go down into that pit of cotton-top hell, and let them hippity-hop all over my vulnerable flesh?
GILES: Fine, then just stay up there and keep making bunnies! That’s a capital plan!
ANYA: What capital? I never know what you’re talking about. Loo, shag, brolly, what the hell is all that?
GILES: What? There’s no way that you could remember me saying any of those words.
ANYA: Oh, bugger off, you brolly.


Giles begins collecting Potential Slayers from around the world, and when Chao-Ahn arrives, unable to speak a word of English, he takes her to the mall for a few things. He communicates by using flashcards with monsters drawn on them, which terrifies her.
GILES: (arriving with Chao-Ahn) Dear lord, I hate that mall. The shop assistants are rude. And everything in the Food Court is sticky.
WILLOW: Looks like you found her some stuff.
GILES: Oh, hello. Yes.
XANDER: That’s gotta be rough. Getting just like pulled out of your home, being told you’re a potential slayer, not being able to bring anything.
GILES: Yes, and the language barrier is formidable. I was concerned that my Mandarin is a little thin, but as it turns out, she speaks Cantonese, which is thinner. But we muddled through, and, as I suspected, ice cream is a universal language.
CHAO-AHN: (speaking Chinese, subtitled) Like many from Asia, I am lactose intolerant. I’m very uncomfortable.
BUFFY: (smiling, nodding) What’d she say?
GILES: She’s grateful to be in the land of plenty. (to Chao-Ahn, slowly) Let’s, um, go and put away your new clothes. (picks up bags and walks upstairs; Chao-Ahn nods and follows)
(later)
GILES: It is late. Perhaps a little reconnaissance might be helpful.
CHAO-AHN: (comes downstairs, subtitled) Why is everyone up? Are the flashcard monsters attacking?
GILES: (to the others) She says she can’t sleep. (to Chao-Ahn) Um, I made myself some warm milk. You can have it.
CHAO-AHN: (speaking Chinese angrily, subtitled) You’re trying to kill me!
GILES: She’s shy.


(Andrew narrates over old Faith scene montage)
ANDREW: Faith. Her name alone invokes awe. Faith. A set of principles or beliefs on which you are willing to devote your life. The dark slayer. A lethal combination of beauty, power, and death. For years and years—or to be more accurate—months, Faith fought on the side of good, terrorizing the evil community. But like so many tragic heroes, Faith was seduced by the lure of the dark side. She wrapped evil around her like a large, evil Mexican serape. She became a cold-blooded killer. Nobody was immune to her trail of destruction. Not friends, not family... Not even the most pacifist and logical of races. (we see Faith fighting a Star Trek Vulcan)
AMANDA: What the hell are you talking about? I thought Faith killed a volcanologist.
ANDREW: Silly, silly Amanda. Why would Faith kill a person who studies Vulcans?
AMANDA: He studied volcanoes. He was a professor.
ANDREW: Ah, yes. Well, regardless...