Teacher: A liar? Oh, I'm sure you don't mean a liar.
Max: Well, he wears a suit and goes to court and talks to the judge.
Teacher: Oh! Oh! I see! You mean he's a lawyer.
Cop: You know why I pulled you over?
Fletcher: Depends on how long you were following me!
Cop: Why don't we just take it from the top?
Fletcher: Here goes: I sped. I followed too closely. I ran a stop sign. I almost hit a Chevy. I sped some more. I failed to yield at a crosswalk. I changed lanes at the intersection. I changed lanes without signaling while running a red light and speeding!
Cop: Is that all?
Fletcher: No. I have unpaid parking tickets. [opens his car's glove compartment; a huge pile of tickets spills out] Be gentle.
Fletcher: You scratched my car!
Impound Guy: Where?
Fletcher: [showing him] Right there!
Impound Guy: Oh. That was already there.
Fletcher: You... you liar! You know what I'm going to do about this?
Impound Guy: What?
Fletcher: Nothing! Because if I take it to small claims court, it will just drain eight hours out of my life and you probably won't show up, and even if I got the judgment you'd just stiff me anyway. So what I'm gonna do is piss and moan like an impotent jerk and then bend over and take it up the tailpipe!
Impound Guy: You've been here before, haven't ya?
Miranda: Mr. Allen, you remember Fletcher Reede.
Mr. Allen: Oh, yes! Yes. Nice to see you again, Fletcher. By the way, I'll be observing you in court this afternoon. I've been hearing some good things about you.
Miranda: Well, Fletcher has just been telling me what how much he thinks of you. [to Fletcher] Well, why don't you tell Mr. Allen? Well, what do you think of him?
Fletcher: He's a pedantic, pontificating, pretentious bastard. A belligerent, old fart. A worthless, steaming pile of cow dung. [sighs] Figuratively speaking.
[Everyone in the board stares at Mr. Allen; after a moment of silence, Mr. Allen laughs; the rest of the board joins in the laughter]
Mr. Allen: That's the funniest damn thing I've ever heard! You're a real card, Reede! I love a good roast! Do Simmons!
Fletcher: [points at Simmons] Simmons is old! He should've been outta the game years ago, but he can't stay home, 'cause he hates his wife! You've met her at the Christmas parties! She's the one that gets plastered and calls him a retard! [to another member of the board] And you, Tom! You're the biggest brownnose I've ever seen! You've got your head so far up Mr. Allen's ass, I can't tell where you end and he begins!
Mr. Allen: [roars with laughter] Priceless!
Fletcher: [to another board member] You have bad breath caused by gingivitis! [to another member] You couldn't get a porn star off! [to yet another] Your hairpiece looks like something that was killed crossing the highway! I don't know whether to comb it or scrape it off with a shovel and bury it in lime! [points at four other members of the board one at a time] Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate! [points at Miranda] SLUT!
Mr. Allen: I like your style, Reede! [shakes hands with Fletcher] That's just what this stuffy company needs! A little irreverence!
Fletcher: GOOD! I'll see ya later, dickhead!
[Everyone else laughs]
Mr. Allen: Dickhead! Priceless!
[Fletcher pulls of a board member's hairpiece and sticks it on the wall, whoops like a native, then walks off as the laughter continues]
Mr. Allen: [takes his seat] Keep your eye on that boy. "Dickhead"!
[After Fletcher darts out of the meeting room, still laughing, he faints from exhaustion]
Fletcher: Oh, come on! Your Honor, how can it be proved that the male voice on that tape is not Mr. Cole himself?
Samantha: [on tape] You are such a better lover than my husband!
Fletcher: Your Honor, I object!
Fletcher: Because it's devastating to my case!
Fletcher: Good call!
Fletcher: Mr. Falk, do you know my client, Samantha Cole?
Fletcher: Isn't it true that your relationship with my client is entirely platonic? [to the judge] I object, your Honor!
Judge: To yourself?
Fletcher: Yeah. But I would like to rephrase the question. [to the witness] Mr. Falk, would I be accurate, if I described your relationship with Mrs. Cole as totally professional? [to the judge] I object, your Honor, and I move to strike!
Judge: Mr. Reede, I don't know what you're on, but you better get to the point, and quick.
Fletcher: Thank you, sir. [to the witness] Is your relationship with my client entirely platonic? NOT! Is not your relationship with my client-- Boink! Bad baby! Bad baby! Did you never not make looooooo-- Did you... [wheezes]
Judge: Mr. Reede!
Fletcher: You had sex with her every time you met, didn't ya?! DIDN'T YOU?! LIAR!
Dana: He's badgering the witness!
Judge: It's his witness.
Fletcher: You slammed her! You dunked her donut! You gave her dog a Snausage! YOU STUFFED HER LIKE A THANKSGIVING TURKEY!
[Fletcher gobbles like a turkey while shoving himself against the witness stand]
Kenneth: All right! All right! It's true, okay?! I humped her brains out! There! Now ya happy?!
Fletcher: No further questions.
Judge: One more word outta you, Mr. Reede, and I'll hold you in contempt!
Fletcher: I hold myself in contempt! Why should you be any different?!