Terence Fletcher: You are upset.[Andrew nods yes]Terence Fletcher: Say it.Andrew: I'm upset.Terence Fletcher: Say it so the whole band can hear you.Andrew: [a little louder] I'm upset!Terence Fletcher: Louder!Andrew: [loud] I'm upset!Terence Fletcher: LOUDER!Andrew: [louder] I'M UPSET!Terence Fletcher: You are a worthless, friendless, faggot-lipped little piece of shit whose mommy left daddy when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill, and who is now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set like a f***ing nine-year old girl! So for the final, FATHER-F***ING time, SAY IT LOUDER!Andrew: [at the top of his lungs] I'M UPSET!Terence Fletcher: [going back to compose the band] Start practicing harder, Nieman.
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