We're not hosting an intergalactic kegger down here.
YOU SORRY LITTLE INGRATES!!!
You'll dress only in attire specially sanctioned by MIB Special Services. You'll conform only to the identity we give you, eat where we tell you, live where we tell you. From now on, you'll have no identifying marks of any kind. You'll not stand out in any way. Your entire image is crafted to leave no lasting memory with anyone you encounter. You're a rumor, recognizable only as dĖj· vu and dismissed just as quickly. You don't exist, you were never even born. Anonymity is your name, silence your native tongue. You're no longer part of the System. You are above the System. Over it. Beyond it. We're 'them'. We're 'they'. We are the Men in Black.
A man came in here earlier. A dead man.
Listen here, monkey boy! Compared to you humans, I'm on the top rung of the evolutionary ladder. So can it, all right?
Ever pulled the wings off a fly? You care to see a fly get even?!
You're coming with me. It's a long trip, I'll need a snack.