Fletcher: [while hearing Mrs. Cole having sex on an audio cassette]
Fletcher: Oh, come on! Your honor, how can it be proved that the male voice on that tape is not Mr. Cole himself?
Samantha: [voice on tape] You are such a better lover than my husband!
Fletcher: Your honor, I object!
Judge Stevens: And why is that, Mr. Reede?
Fletcher: It's devastating to my case!
Judge Stevens: Overruled.
Fletcher: Good call!
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 glove compartment and groans when a wad of tickets pops out]
Fletcher: ... be gentle.
Office Worker: Hey, Fletcher, how's it hanging?
Fletcher: [groans] Short, shriveled, and always to the left.
Fletcher: Mrs. Cole, is this a copy of your driver's license?
[shows paper]
Samantha: That's right.
Fletcher: It says here you are a blonde, are you? If you don't remember, perhaps Mr. Falk will.
Samantha: Brunette.
Fletcher: Maybe if we play the tape again, maybe it's on there...
Samantha: I'm a brunette!
Fletcher: Thank you. Now let's see... weight, 105? Yeah, in your bra.
Dana: Your honor, I object.
Fletcher: You would!
Dana: Bastard!
Fletcher: Hag!
Judge Stevens: QUIET! Overruled! Weight?
Samantha: 118.
[Fletcher gives her a look]
Samantha: Alright, fine, fine, I'm 127.
Fletcher: Uh, huh, and it says here you were born in 1964, but that's not true either is it? Is it!
Samantha: No.
Fletcher: Please tell the court what's on your birth certificate under Date of Birth.
Dana: Your honor, I object. What does this have to do with anything?
Judge Stevens: Overruled. Mrs. Cole, answer the question.
Samantha: 1965.
Fletcher: Now let me get this straight. That means you lied about your age to make yourself older. But why would any woman want to do THAT?
Samantha: I changed it so I could get married.
Fletcher: AND THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE! My client lied about her age! She was only 17 when she got married, which makes her a minor. And in the great state of California, no minor can enter into any legal contract without parental consent.
[to Dana]
Fletcher: Including...?
Dana: [sighs] Prenuptial agreements.
Fletcher: Prenuptial agreements! This contract is void! The fact that my client has been ridden more than Seattle Slew is irrelevant. Standard Community Property applies and she is entitled to half of the marital assets, or $11.395 million. Jordan fades back, swoosh, and THAT'S THE GAME! Nothing further, your honor!
Fletcher: [having farted in an elevator] It was me!
[about Mr. Allen]
Miranda: 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, figuratively speaking.
[a moment passes and Mr. Allen starts laughing. The other board members follow his lead and start laughing also]
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: Simmons is old! He should've been out of the game years ago but he can't stay home because he hates his wife! You've met her at the Christmas parties. She's the one that gets plastered and calls him a retard! And you, Tom, you're the biggest brown-nose 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: [roaring with laughter] Priceless!
[Fletcher continues with every member]
Fletcher: You have bad breath caused by gingivitis. You couldn't get a porn star off. 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 alive. Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate!
[to Miranda]
Fletcher: *Slut*!
Mr. Allen: I like your style, Reede! That's just what this stuffy company needs - a little irreverence!
Fletcher: Good! I'll see you later, dick-head!
Mr. Allen: [Adressing one of his board members] Keep your eye on that boy, dick-head!
Guy in the Washroom: What the hell are you doing?
Fletcher: I'm kicking my ass! Do you mind?
Fletcher: Your honor, would the court be willing to grant me a short bathroom break?
Judge: Can't it wait?
Fletcher: Yes it can. But I've heard that if you hold it you could damage the prostate gland, making it very difficult to get an erection, or even become aroused!
Judge: Is that true?
Fletcher: It has to be!
Judge: In that case I'd better take a quick break myself.
Fletcher: You scratched my car!
Motorpool Guy: Where?
Fletcher: [indicating with his hands] Right there!
Motorpool Guy: Oh... That was already there.
Fletcher: You -- LIAR! You know what I am going to do about this?
Motorpool Guy: What?
Fletcher: Nothing! Because if I take it to small claims court, it will just drain 8 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 am going to do is piss and moan like an impotent jerk, and then bend over and take it up the tailpipe!
Motorpool Guy: [tossing the keys to Fletcher] You've been here before, haven't ya?
Judge Stevens: How are we this morning, Counselor?
Dana: Fine, thank you.
Judge Stevens: And how about you, Mr. Reede?
Fletcher: I'm a little upset about a bad sexual episode I had last night.
[Shocked pause]
Judge Stevens: Well, you're young. It'll happen more and more. In the meantime, what do you say we get down to business?
Busty Woman on Elevator: Everybody's been real nice.
Fletcher: Well, that's because you've got big jugs. I mean, your boobs are huge. I mean, I wanna squeeze 'em. Mama!
[puckers up]
Fletcher: [Picks up a blue pen]
[to himself]
Fletcher: Okay, the pen is red... the pen is red...
[aloud]
Fletcher: The color of this pen is ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh
[laughs]
Fletcher: . This pen is reeeeeeeeeeehhh-
[pauses then announces dramatically]
Fletcher: The color of the pen that I HOLD in my hand is rrrrr-rrroyal blue!
[falls to the floor exhausted]
Fletcher: AHH!
Fletcher: [grabs a piece of paper] Okay, if I can't say it, I'll write it!
[starts writing "The color of the pen is - " but his hand shakes away involuntarily]
Fletcher: No! You write! Write it!
[his hand automatically turns to point the pen at him and he wrestles it to the ground]
Greta: [enters the office] Mister Reede? Are you alright?
Fletcher: [rises from behind the desk with 'Blue' written all over his face] It's blue. It's blue! The goddamn pen is blue!
Audrey: Where were you?
Fletcher: Having sex.
Audrey: Well, I hope it was with someone *very* special!
Fletcher: No, see - that's the thing. I don't even like her, but she's a partner and I thought I could help my career by making her squeal.
[Fletcher throws the phone away and drops to the floor in disgust]
Judge Stevens: It is only out of sheer morbid curiosity that I am allowing this freak show to continue.
Bum: Got any spare change?
Fletcher: Absolutely!
Bum: Could ya spare some?
Fletcher: Yes I could!
Bum: Will ya?
Fletcher: HMM-MMM!
Bum: How come?
Fletcher: Because I believe you will buy booze with it! I just want to get from my car to the office without being confronted by the decay of western society!... Plus I'm cheap! AHHH!
Bum: [yells at Fletcher] Jerkoff!
Greta: Mr. Reede, several years ago a friend of mine had a burglar on her roof, a burglar. He fell through the kitchen skylight, landed on a cutting board, on a butcher's knife, cutting his leg. The burglar sued my friend, he sued my friend. And because of guys like you *he won*. My friend had to pay the burglar $6,000. Is that justice?
Fletcher: No!
[Greta looks pleased, but then Fletcher continues]
Fletcher: I'd have got him ten.
[Greta stalks off, appalled]
Judge Stevens: Mr. Reede, one more word out of you, and I will hold you in contempt!
Fletcher: I hold *myself* in contempt! Why should you be any different?
Fletcher: [Fletcher is trying to convince Greta to believe her about Max's wish] You don't believe me, do you?
Greta: Of course not.
Fletcher: [laughs dryly] How ironic. Okay, ask me something you think I would normally lie about.
Greta: Alright. Remember, a few months ago, when I wanted a raise...
Fletcher: Forget it. I don't wanna do this!
Greta: -and the company wouldn't give me one...
Fletcher: Greta, *please*!
Greta: -so you said you wanted to give me one out of your own pocket, but it would create jealously among the other secretaries. Now, was that true, or did you just not want to pony up the dough?
[Fletcher is speechless. Scene cuts to Greta packing her belongings]
Fletcher: You had sex with her every time you met, didn't you? 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!
[Makes gobbling noises while pushing himself against the table]
Kenneth Falk: Alright! Alright, it's true, okay? I humped her brains out! There, now ya happy?
[awkward silence]
Fletcher: No further questions.
Greta: [after bailing Fletcher out of jail] Am I too late? Have you been sexually molested yet? Because I can circle the block.
Max Reede: Do the Claw to Mom, Dad, do the Claw to Mom!
Fletcher: Uh-oh. You've found the Claw's only weakness. Subzero temperatures!
[Splatting sound]
Audrey: So did you have any trouble finding the place?
Fletcher: All right, I'm late. I ran outta gas! The gauge is broken. Rough neighborhood too. Good thing I was wearing neutral gang colors. Might've had to rip out my nine and bust a cap! My mind on my money and my money on my mind!
Audrey: They'd never hurt you, Fletcher. You're their lawyer.
Fletcher: Ooh. That was below the belt. Try to keep the gloves up.
Max Reede: Mom, Dad's taking me to see wrestling!
Audrey: Ugh. Fletcher!
Fletcher: Ugh. Audrey!
Fletcher: [on phone] Hi! Judge Stevens, I'm scheduled to be in your courtroom in half an hour? Judge Stevens, I badly, BADLY need a continuance!... Ill? Am I ill? That is the perfect question for you to ask!
[to Greta]
Fletcher: Greta, *please* LIE to him for me!
Greta: I remember when you bought me this antique silver frame from Tiffany's. TIFFANY'S?
Fletcher: [in a high-pitched voice] Garage sale, six-fifty marked down from ten...
[Greta drops picture frame and it smashes]
Fletcher: The pen is blue, the pen is blue, the goddamn pen is blue!
Max Reede: I wish, for just one day, Dad couldn't tell a lie.
Fat Coworker: What's Up, Fletcher?
Fletcher: Your cholesterol, Fatty! Dead man walkin'!
Randy: Hey, Fletcher!
Fletcher: Hey! You're not important enough to remember!
Zit Boy: What'll it be, Fletcher?
Fletcher: A pock mark, eventually!
Greta: Mr. Reede?
Fletcher: Don't ask! For God's sake, don't ask!
Fletcher: Greta, please! I'm on my knees in a nine-hundred-dollar suit!
Fletcher: Audrey, great news! Both my legs are broken so they can't take me right to jail.
Judge Stevens: Mr. Reede, I'm tired and very cranky!
Fletcher: Mrs. Cole, the only problem here is that after you've provided years of faithful service and loving support raising his children-they are his?
Samantha: Oh yeah. One for sure.
Fletcher: After all that, your husband wants to deny you a fair and equitable share of the marital assets based on one single act of indiscretion.
Samantha: Seven.
Fletcher: Beg your pardon?
Samantha: Seven single acts of indiscretion.
Fletcher: SEVEN! acts of indiscretion, only one of which he has any evidence and all of which he himself is responsible for.
[the lights turn on after Max makes a wish and blows out the candles]
Max Reede: Mom? Dad?
[Audrey and Fletcher are kissing]
Fletcher: MAX? Did you wish for your mom and I to get back together again?
Max Reede: No. I wished for rollerblades!
Audrey: Uh... wanna cut the cake... Dad?
Fletcher: I would love to... but I have this horrible pain in my arm...
Audrey: Oh no... run IT'S THE CLAW!
Fletcher: NOTHING CAN STOP THE CLAWWWW!
[the court erupts]
Judge Stevens: Order! Order! ORDER!
Fletcher: [to crowd] Knock it off!
Judge Stevens: SIT DOWN!
Fletcher: [having been charged a huge amount to get his car back. He reaches for an air freshener] I'm taking this!
Fletcher: Mr. Falk, would I be accurate, if I described your relationship with Mrs. Cole as totally professional? I *object*, Your Honor, and I move to strike!
Judge Stevens: Mr. Reede, I don't know what you're on, but you better get to the point, and quick!
Fletcher: Where would Tina Turner be right now if she'd rolled over and said, "Hit me again, Ike, and put some stank on it!"? Rollin' on the river, that's where she'd be. But she's beyond Thunderdome, because she decided to send a message?
[yells]
Fletcher: Wake up, sisters! There is nooooooo such thing as a weaker sex!
Judge Stevens: Afternoon, Counselors. Are we ready to begin?
Fletcher: No, sir! We are NOT ready to begin, because my client has not arrived!
[Samantha and children enter]
Samantha: [to children] Hurry up! Move it!
Fletcher: [singing to the tune of Mighty Mouse] Here she comes to wreck the daaaay!
Judge Stevens: MISTER Reede!
Fletcher: Sorry, Your Honor!
Fletcher: Why don't you go play in the office a minute. Sue someone for everything they've got. Maybe you send a fax to one of your girlfriends!
Lawyer on Courthouse Stairs: Hey, Fletcher, how'd it go in there?
Fletcher: Just another victory for the wrongly accused.
Lawyer on Courthouse Stairs: Yeah, right.
Teacher: W-O-R-K, Work!
Max Reede: [shows his baseball glove] Look at what Dad got me.
Jerry: Wow, great. Hey, you know what, I have my glove in the car. Maybe we could stop at the park on the way home and play catch. Then tonight we can rub oil in it and wrap a big rubber band around it. It'll be great.
[to Fletcher]
Jerry: Hey, great gift, Dad.
Fletcher: [sarcastically] Thanks, Son.
[to Audrey]
Fletcher: I'm so glad my gift could bring those two together. My plan to phase myself out is almost complete.
Fletcher: [with his female boss on his lap, sexually attacking him] Listen, I'm really sorry, but I just... I just can't make it. The boss is REALLY ridin' me!
Ms. Berry - Teacher: Today we're going to talk about what our parents do for work.
Little Girl: My mommy is a doctor.
Little Boy: My daddy is a truck driver.
Max Reede: Well my mom's a teacher.
Ms. Berry - Teacher: And your dad?
Max Reede: My dad he's a liar.
Ms. Berry - Teacher: A liar? I'm sure you don't mean a liar.
Max Reede: Well he wears a suit and goes to court and talks to the judge.
Ms. Berry - Teacher: Oh I see. You mean he's a lawyer.
Max Reede: [shrugs his shoulders in a yeah whatever mood]
Fletcher Reede: [outtake] Weight, 105. Yeah, in your bra!
Dana Appleton: Your Honor, I object!
Fletcher Reede: You would!
Dana Appleton: Overactor!
Fletcher Reede: Jezebel
[bursts out laughing]
Dana Appleton: [points at director] He put me up to it! Tom Shadyac!
Fletcher Reede: Oh no, they're on to me!