Honeywell: Say it, you giant beast! Say I'm six-one!
Brad: Maybe if you stood on top of that pot of gold you have at the end of your rainbow.
Honeywell: You know something? You're nothing but a... a tree man! I never want to see you again, tree man!
Brad: Fine. I have to go to the little boys' room. Not your office. I need to take a dump.
Honeywell: If that's the type of guy you vouch for, I can't trust your judgment. You're off the Gruber Pharmaceutical case.