Dwight K. Schrute: Hardy, har, har. Okay picture this: Snowy ash drizzles from the sky. A ravenous pack of dogs surrounds you as the flame at the end of your stick dies out. There's only one hope left for you. The door to my shelter. You pound. You beg. Dwight! Please let me in! But I ignore your cries and do not let you in. You wanna know why?
Jim: Because of the sign, that says no pounding no begging.
Dwight K. Schrute: No. Because you laughed at me. Kevin will be eaten! Pam will be taken slave! Jim will be made a warlord's jester. Meredith will do okay. Be assured this day will come. It's just a matter of time. Could be one month, could be two months.
Jim: Three months.
Dwight K. Schrute: Could be.
Jim: Four months.
Dwight K. Schrute: I can see that happening, yes.
Jim: Eight months?
Dwight K. Schrute: That's a realistic time line.
Jim: Eleven months.
Dwight K. Schrute: Perhaps.
Jim: Okay, now really think hard about this one: One year.
Dwight K. Schrute: I can see that as a very real possibility.
[later, after everyone else has left:]
Jim: Four hundred and ninety-four months?
Dwight K. Schrute: I can see that happening.
Jim: Four hundred and ninety-five months. That's just...