Michael: Dwight, put the bottle down or you're fired!
Dwight: You can't fire me! I don't work in this van!

Kevin: Can you hop?
Michael: I tried hopping, Kevin. I bumped my elbow against the wall and now my elbow has a protuberance.

Michael: Pam, will you rub butter on my foot?
Pam: No.
Michael: Please? I have Country Crock.

Oh no. Dwight isn't my friend ... Oh my God! Dwight's kind of my friend.

Pam

Michael: What do I write under "reason for visit?"
Jim: Concussion. Why, what'd you write?
Michael: ..."Bringing someone to the hospital."
Jim: Oh, you thought they meant YOUR reason for visit.
Michael: No, you know what? This isn't about me anymore.

Michael: Dwight, what's your middle name?
Dwight: Danger.
Michael: Something with a 'K'.
Jim: It's Kurt. Wow, I'm so sad I know that.

Michael: The point is, I am the only one here with a legitimate disability, although I'm sure Stanley's had his fair share of obstacles.
Stanley: I'm not disabled, and neither are you.

Creed: I was in an iron lung when I was a teenager.
Michael: How old are you?

Jim: So where are you shipping your foot?
Michael: Ha ha ha. So where are you shipping...
Dwight: YOUR foot?

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