- Professor A. Daemon: You want what I've got.
- Roger Shackleforth: But I don't know what you've got.
- Professor A. Daemon: Ointments, salves, powders, sovereign remedies, nectars, lotus blossoms, toxins, tonics, anti-toxins, decoctions, concoctions, and potions. All guaranteed.
- Roger Shackleforth: ...Oh.
- Roger Shackleforth: Professor, you don't know what it's like. All the time: love, love, love!
- Professor A. Daemon: I do know what it's like. How do you think I came to invent 'the glove cleaner?'
- Narrator: [Opening Narration] Mr. Roger Shackelforth. Age: youthful twenties. Occupation: being in love. Not just in love, but madly, passionately, illogically, miserably, all-consumingly in love - with a young woman named Leila, who has a vague recollection of his face and even less than a passing interest. In a moment, you'll see a switch, because Mr. Roger Shackelforth, the young gentleman so much in love, will take a short but very meaningful journey into The Twilight Zone.
- Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. Roger Shackelforth, who has discovered at this late date that love can be as sticky as a vat of molasses, as unpalatable as a hunk of spoiled yeast, and as all-consuming as a six-alarm fire in a bamboo and canvas tent. Case history of a lover boy, who should never have entered The Twilight Zone.
- Roger Shackleforth: Listen, darling, I have to see you.
- Leila: Roger, it's impossible.
- Roger Shackleforth: I must see you, darling, must! Furiously, fiercely must! I love you.
- Leila: Roger, you've got to stop this. You're acting like a baby. I can't see you now, and that's that.
- Roger Shackleforth: Well then, talk to me. Say something! Say anything!
- Leila: Say something? Alright Roger, I'll say something. Why don't you take a flying jump at the moon?
- Roger Shackleforth: I don't think you're making any sense at all.
- Professor A. Daemon: My boy, that's all I make. Which is why I'm such a lonely man.
- Professor A. Daemon: What is it you want?
- Roger Shackleforth: Oh, nothing.
- Professor A. Daemon: Nothing I don't supply. Something is my specialty. Anything is what you get here.
- Roger Shackleforth: I'm in love with somebody named Leila, but she's not in love with me, and... I don't know why I'm telling you this.
- Professor A. Daemon: I do. I can arrange it so she'll love you.
- Roger Shackleforth: How?
- Professor A. Daemon: I promise you she'll never leave your side. When she isn't telling you she loves you, she'll be gazing at you lovingly. She won't even eat before you do, and nothing will be too much for you to ask of her. She'll worship you. She'll beg for kisses, and weep for joy at your touch. And if in passing time you should perhaps look at another girl, or, even do a little more than look, she'll feel hurt. But she'll forgive you, and love you just the same. Frankly, you'd get the same shake from a cocker spaniel.
- Roger Shackleforth: But that's wonderful! That's all in the world I want: my Leila's love!
- Professor A. Daemon: [Talking to himself] His Leila's love. If it isn't his Leila's love, it's his Dorothy's love, his Rea's love, or his Gwen's love.
- Roger Shackleforth: It won't hurt her?
- Professor A. Daemon: If anybody gets hurt, it'll be you, but I don't expect you to believe me.
- Professor A. Daemon: You're ambitious, is that it? You want success, money and mileage, the world at your feet.
- Roger Shackleforth: No, that's not it at all.
- Professor A. Daemon: Power! You want power.
- Roger Shackleforth: No, you don't understand. All I want is Leila.
- Professor A. Daemon: ...Leila?
- Roger Shackleforth: Yeah. If I have Leila, I can do all the rest myself.
- Professor A. Daemon: ...Leila. I might have known.
- [the Professor begins to talk to himself]
- Professor A. Daemon: All he wants is Leila. I offer him practically anything, and all he wants is Leila.
- Roger Shackleforth: Professor, I am going out of my ever-loving mind. I can't stand it anymore!
- Professor A. Daemon: Naturally.
- Roger Shackleforth: Is there such a thing as being loved too much? Isn't there some way we can just quiet it down a little?
- Professor A. Daemon: No.
- Roger Shackleforth: Well, isn't there some potion that will transfer a little of this love to someone else? Like a nice cocker spaniel?
- Professor A. Daemon: Not a chance. She's yours.
- Roger Shackleforth: But she's so nice to me! She's so very good!
- Professor A. Daemon: I know. 'The glove cleaner' is the only way.