Spicoli: En-tray. (Shocked) Mr. Hand! Mr. Hand: Uh, were you going somewhere tonight, Jeff? Spicoli: Yeah, graduation dance. It’s the last school fest of the year. Mr. Hand: I’m afraid we’ve got some business to discuss here. Spicoli: Did I do something wrong, Mr. Hand? Mr. Hand: (Stepping into the bedroom, amid the drug paraphernalia and concert posters) According to my calculations, Mr. Spicoli, you wasted a total of eight hours of my time this year, and rest assured that is a kind estimate. Now, I have the unique pleasure of squaring our account. Tonight, you and I are going to talk in great detail about the Davis Agreement, all the associated treaties, and the American Revolution in particular. If you could just turn to page 47 in Land of Truth and Beauty.
Spicoli: Oh, I left that book in my locker, Mr. Hand. Mr. Hand: In that case, I’m glad I remembered to bring an extra copy just for you.
Hours pass. Spicoli, itching to catch at least the tail end of the dance, tries to demonstrate some grasp on history.
Spicoli: … What Jefferson was saying was “Hey, we left this England place because it was bogus. So If we don’t get some cool rules ourselves — pronto — then we’ll just be bogus, too.” OK? Mr. Hand: Very close, Jeff.
Satisfied that he proved his point, Mr. Hand passes Spicoli, and sends him off to the dance. And as they say goodbye, these two warriors — one in conservative slacks, the other in a rumpled Hawaiian shirt — raise their swords in respect.
Spicoli: Aloha, Mr. Hand. Mr. Hand: Aloha, Spicoli.