[Flashback to Marshall begging for his job back after just visiting Lily's classroom:]
Marshall: [inner monologue] Oh, my God! I have lice. Those little bastards gave me lice. God, it itches. Don't scratch it. You'll look like a fool. You'll never get your job back. Okay, you can scratch, but just make it subtle. Okay, that's not working. Oh, sweet, sharp corner of the desk, how I long to rub my infested scalp against you. [throws pen on the floor, rubs his head against the desk] I was, um... just, uh...
Mr. Hewitt: You okay, Eriksen?
Marshall: Oh! Oh, yes, I'm good. I am good. Continue. [inner monologue] Mind over matter. There are no lice in my hair... laying eggs, burrowing into my scalp, eating their way all the way down to my brain! [out loud] I have lice!
Mr. Hewitt: "Lice"?! Lice! Get out! Get out of my office! [over the intercom] We've got lice! Everybody out of the building.
Marshall: If it weren't for the lice, I would have gotten my job back, and I would have been working there when, two weeks later, the Securities and Exchange Commission came a-knocking. God sent those lice to my head like he sent the locusts to Egypt: to liberate me from corporate bondage. Miracle.