- Opus: As your records will show, Father Christmas, I am a bird. Specifically, a penguin. An embarrassing accident at birth, for which I do not blame my mother. I prefer to blame Congress.
- Santa: I see no penguins here whose wings merely sputter. Tonight it was courage that flew yours beyond others. Time to fly, son.
- Opus: Why don't penguins have wings that work?
- [holding out his hand]
- Opus: This, you call this a wing? This is a bad joke, this is built in obsolescence, I'm an insult, I might as well be a dung beetle or a fly infested, worm infused, molded mildewed scrap of rotten banana!... or a network executive.
- George the Kiwi: So what if they're small? Some women prefer small wings. What does Delores want, quantity or quality? She want's 'em big? MARRY THE SPACE SHUTTLE, YOU SHREW!
- The Chicken: Space shuttle? Watch it!
- George the Kiwi: ALBATROSS. Just be glad your wife didn't leave you for an albatross.
- Ronald-Anne: Good, George, confront your feelings.
- George the Kiwi: My puny kiwi wings weren't big enough for Delores. Oh no, oh no... she had to have AN ALBATROSS. With great big huge LONG WINGS. He was on hormones. You heard me, read my beak: HORMONES.
- Opus: Uh, maybe we shouldn't confront those particular feelings.
- Duck #1: Hey look, I'm a bird. I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth.
- Duck #2: Honey, I'll be taking lunch on the moon today.
- Duck #3: What's the red thing on the neck? Turbo prop? So where's the exhaust? Don't answer that.
- Duck #1: Note the mighty wings. I suspect they sputter more than flutter. (They all laugh)
- Opus: They're obviously jealous of my nose. Anybody would be.
- The Chicken: Pull up. Pull UP. Don't suck a duck into your turbines.
- George the Kiwi: AN ALBATROSS. Suck up AN ALBATROSS. Yeah.