Agent K: (A long pause) Have any specials?

Agent J: My associate will have the same thing he always has after he looks at the menu for 10 minutes and asks about specials twice. He's gonna have a slice of apple pie with a nasty piece of cheddar. I'm gonna have the strawberry-rhubarb. Since it's my last meal, I'm gonna splurge a little bit. World-class serial killer out there and we're having pie.

Agent K: What do you do in your spare time, stretch? See, I sense you're not embracing the concept here. Pie don't work unless you let it.

Agent J: I'm gonna let it.

Agent K: And you say we don't talk, right? You go ahead. Ask me any question. Anything you want. As long as it doesn't have to do with the case. Just let her rip.

Agent J: What's up with you and O?

Agent K: Me and O?

Agent J: Yeah, you and O.

Agent K: All right, all right. All right, this is it. A while back, I was assigned to keep tabs on a musician. Mick Jagger? He's in this British band, the Rolling Stones.

Agent J: Rings a bell.

Agent K: We believed he was on the planet to breed with Earth women. So I was in London and that's when I met O. Just smart. Funny. A great smile. And we find ourselves in this pub, which is a bar, all right? Warm beer and the worst food you ever ate. We just played darts till the sun came up. Neither of us wanted to leave.

Agent J: What the hell happened to you, man?

Agent K: I don't know. It hasn't happened yet. Come on, what about you, slick? In the future, you got yourself a girl?

Agent J: I got you.

Man A: I cannot believe this, freaking New York Mets.

Man B: Total losers!

Agent K: It's a rough time to be a Mets fan.

Man B: Tell me about it. Never gonna catch the Cubs.

Agent J: That's funny. The Mets actually win it all this year.

Agent K: Oh, yeah.

Agent J: No, I'm serious.

Agent K: I'm sure.

Agent J: Look, three months from now, your buddies down there are gonna be calling them the Amazing Mets and the Miracle...Mets.

Agent K: What? What you got there, hoss?

Agent J: The Archanan said, "it's amazing! It's a miracle! I'll see you at the game." I know where he is.

Agent K: Told you to trust the pie. If Griffin's here for a game, he's either too early or too late.

Agent J: He's here. We just gotta find him before Boris does.

Agent K: It's time to give you your things back, partner.

Agent J: I see you get some pie in you, you get all mushy.

Agent K: I'm just tired of carrying your stuff.

Griffin: Come on now! All right! Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Met--

Agent J: Griffin?

Griffin: Oh, you're just in time! Unless this is the one where Robinson bad-hops it past third, it's almost over.

Agent J: Are we missing something?

Griffin: The game.

Agent J: So this is how you see things? This is amazing.

Griffin: It's a gigantic pain in the ass. But it has its moments.

Agent J: This game doesn't happen till October.

Griffin: It's always October and November and March. So many futures, and they are all real. Just don't know which one will coalesce. Until then, they're all happening. Like this one, it's my favorite moment in human history. All the things that had to converge for the Mets to win the World Series. They were in last place every single season until they won it all.

Agent K: You said you had a gift for us.

Griffin: That baseball, for instance, thrown for the last out of game five, manufactured in 1962 by Spalding factory of Chicopee, Massachusetts, was aerodynamically flawed due to the horsehide being improperly tanned because Shiller, the tanner's wife, left him for a Puerto Rican golf pro--

Agent J: The gift?

Griffin: Oh, oh, oh, yes, of course. In the box. It's the surprise. To protect the Earth. It's a shield.

Agent K: Shield.

Agent J: Archanan. Arc Net. That’s what you did. You put up the Arc Net.

Agent K: How do I do that?

Griffin: When that ball is pitched to Davey Johnson who only became a baseball player because his father couldn't find a football to give him for his birthday. It hits his bat two micrometers too high, causing him to pop out to Cleon Jones who would've been born Clara, a statistical typist, if his parents didn't have an extra glass of wine that night before going to bed. A miracle is what seems impossible but happens anyway. I lost my planet. I don't want you to lose yours. It'll take a miracle, but if you pull this off, you'll be my new favorite moment in human history. Oh, dear. I forgot to see this one coming.（Boris snatches Griffin away）

Agent J: Damn it!

Agent K: Get these in the future?

Agent J: No.

Agent K: Get on.