Look, Prescott, this "unattended juvenile" you're so blithely dismissing could conceivably be murdered in the name of racial purity. You got space on your application for that?!
Pierce, I'm handling this, remember?
There's nothing to handle. The Immigration and Naturalization Service, by statute, has strict quota restrictions. My hands are tied.
Now there's an idea!
[elbows Hawkeye] Just a moment. There are always alternatives.
Not in this case, Major.
[trying to maintain composure] Mr. Prescott, I have friends of considerable influence.
Gentlemen...
Congressmen.
...you are wasting my time.
Senators.
Please believe me, this is departmental policy.
Cabinet members.
There can be no immigration under the circumstances you have set forth.
Captains of industry.
Good day.
[Losing his temper, Charles slams his peaked cap on Prescott's desk and jumps to his feet]
There's nothing good about it, Mr. Prescott! We are discussing a little girl! A human being who is facing a life of misery! An issue infinitely more important than you and your stupid seating arrangements!
Charles-
Shut up, Pierce! [Prescott's desk telephone buzzes; Charles snatches up the handset] Mr. Prescott is in conference; let them eat out! [hangs up]
How dare you-
You smarmy bureaucratic microbe; you're going to that dinner breathing through your FLY!
[Charles tries to attack Prescott, who flees while Hawkeye restrains Charles]
Run for your life, Prescott, it's a wild boar!
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