DIAL TONE.
A PHONE IS PICKED UP OFF THE RECEIVER.
???: Who is this!? Listen! I’m holding a lit match and five litres of gasoline and I’m not afraid to use’em!
FBI NEGOTIATOR: Sir, I understand you are stressed. This is a difficult situation. We just want you to understand that we’re here to help in whatever way we can. We just want the release of the hostages without any harm.
???: I don’t need your help! I’m a self-made man! I drank baby formula as a baby so my mother wouldn’t think I owed her anything!
FBI NEGOTIATOR: No offense was intended—
???: Offended!? I’m not some snowflake!
FBI NEGOTIATOR: Of course, but then why keep the hostages, sir?
???: I have a right, don’t I? I made them. I kept them down here safe in my bunker for years! Far from creeps like you! Who are you, or anybody, to tell me what I can and can’t do?
FBI NEGOTIATOR: Sir, please, think this through. Wouldn’t you want what’s best for them?
???: You people just want to take them away! All to some freaking charities or needy orphanages somewhere. I’m not having it! They’re gonna burn up with me!
FBI NEGOTIATOR: Think of your children, sir. They deserve better than this.
???: Children? What children? Those bums never worked a day in their lives! I’m not leaving a cent for them. They were always eyeing my Swiss bunker! Trying to get at my fortune!
FBI NEGOTIATOR: I’m sorry, sir. Who exactly do you have as a hostage, then?
???: My money, boy! I’m burning down my millions before you health-care lovers get to it. Taxes are a sin!
A PHONE IS PLACED BACK ON THE RECEIVER.
???: Hello? Are you listening? I won’t be ignored anymo—
A LIT MATCH IS DROPPED.
???: Oh.
THE LINE GOES DEAD.
