(A phesant that Charles shot exploded upon hitting the ground)
Klinger: Holy Toledo! Either that bird hit a landmine, or you just shot down a kamikaze pigeon.
Margaret: (irritated) Klinger, where is my footlocker?
Klinger: I suppose in your tent.
Margaret: I have just come from my tent. What I have in there can no longer be called a footlocker because you can not call something a locker if it doesn't lock! What I have in there is a foot-opener, and some disgusting deviant in this camp has just done that; opened it! Violated my personal, private, intimate belongings!
Klinger: The major wouldn't be imagining things, would she?
Margaret: Klinger, I know violating when I see it. Now I requested a new footlocker. I want to know why I haven't got it yet.
Klinger: (handing her a piece of paper) They turned ya down.
Margaret: Turned me down?!
Klinger: Major, I told you it was a long shot. ICORPs says they'll only replace a footlocker if it's damaged in combat.
Margaret: (furious) That's ridiculous! This is a hospital unit! What kind of combat do we see here?
Klinger: Well, I don't make the rules. I just live by 'em. It's the good old American sense of fair play.
Margaret: Don't give me that garbage, you clown! What am I supposed to do with my personal belongings?
Klinger: I got a hope chest I'm not using anymore.
Margaret: How would you like to find yourself stuffed inside it?
Klinger (to Hawkeye and B.J. about the funniest person in camp) You two don't make the first cut. I'm writing my Uncle Abdul about what kind of place this is. Doctors, nurses, saving lives. Well, I got a commanding officer who dresses me up in his clothes and sits me on a horse named Sophie so he can paint his own picture. There's a priest writing war ditties. And a snooty major who pays me twenty bucks to go out into the woods with him and watch him blow up a pigeon with a land mine. And if that doesn't beat all, I got a head nurse who shoots unarmed luggage. All you guys do is go around telling jokes. What the hell is so funny about that?