Harold & Kumar, due amici in fuga

Kumar Patel: [reciting the poem 'The Square Root of 3'] I fear that I will always be / A lonely number like root three / A three is all that's good and right, / Why must my three keep out of sight / Beneath a vicious square root sign, / I wish instead I were a nine / For nine could thwart this evil trick, / with just some quick arithmetic / I know I'll never see the sun, as 1.7321 / Such is my reality, a sad irrationality / When hark! What is this I see, / Another square root of a three / Has quietly come waltzing by, / Together now we multiply / To form a number we prefer, / Rejoicing as an integer / We break free from our mortal bonds / And with a wave of magic wands / Our square root signs become unglued / And love for me has been renewed.