Liar Liar1997

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:
[Defeated] 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 five other members of the board one at a time] Loser! Idiot! Wimp! Degenerate! [at Miranda] SLUT! [Miranda is shocked]

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, d*ckhead!

[Everyone else laughs]

Mr. Allen:
D*ckhead! 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. "D*ckhead"!

[After Fletcher darts out of the meeting room, still laughing, he faints from exhaustion]