Look, there’s no reason to panic. We’re all safe for the moment. Yes, the elevator’s still not moving. Yes. And we’re all unhappy about that. But I’m sure it’ll start again soon; these things happen all the time. You freaking out like you’re doing, all this negativity… it’s not helping anything.
And OK, you’re claustrophobic. OK. I really am sorry about that. But there is nothing that we, in this elevator right now, can do about that. We all have problems, right? I mean, we all have things that aren’t perfect about us. I, personally, have very weak knees. Had ’em my whole life. But am I yammering about them? No. Way. And yes, your Thing That Isn’t Perfect happens to be particularly ill-suited to your current situation, but going on and on about it… well, it’s only irritating things more.
And believe me, I understand that it’s unfortunate that you’re allergic to pet dander, and I happen to have my chocolate lab, Baxter, in the elevator. It’s too bad. But look, they let me bring him in to office sometimes, today is one of those times, and who could have known this elevator would’ve stopped with us three trapped in here, and with Baxter in full shedding season? Not me! I mean, I would NOT have predicted it. And Bax isn’t doing this on purpose? Are ya, Bax? Nooooo, no, he’s not. He’s a good boy. I mean, yes: it’s too bad. It’s too bad your skin is breaking out in hives, and it’s too bad your mouth is becoming frighteningly dry, and I’m sorry about the fact that your throat is closing up. I really am. But, hey, you know, my ears are closing up from all this complaining, mister! OK? Heh heh. Not really, but I mean, you know what I mean, OK? This constant griping… it’s just futile.
And look: no one is more upset than I am about the fact that I am stabbing you in the chest with this letter opener. No one. I mean, do you think I want to violate my probation and get sent in for another 25 years? Do you think that I want that? Because I do not, sir. Not by a long shot. But, as fate would have it, I have a sort of little mental… problem… that when I’m alone with one person, for a period of over 25 minutes… I… well, you know, I… I just sort of want to… I want to remove their heart from their chest and make it a part of me.
And yes: That. Is. A. Problem. I mean, I recognize it, and I’ve tried very hard to avoid situations like this one we’re in, but here we are. I mean, what with this problem and the weak knees, I’m in pretty sorry shape, you know? Heh heh.
But am I whining? No. No, I am not. Only you are whining, sir. Well, and Baxter is. But I think, to be honest, your bad attitude is sort of wigging him out because I’ve never seen him like this.
Well, yes, it could be the stabbing that’s wigging him out, I suppose, but there you are, immediately putting the blame for something on everything else in the world but yourself! I hate to say this, but that’s something that really bugs me about people in this country here of late. No accountability. And you didn’t see that as much back wh–
OK, now the elevator’s moving. See? I told you. We’ll be out of here in no time. And, I might add, I clearly will not have enough time to actually dig down to your heart and devour it. So: Chin. Up. Heh heh, OK?! OK.
Sit, Baxter.
He’s a beautiful animal, isn’t he, sir? Sir?
Sir? (shakes stabbed man’s head, no reaction)
Finally he calms down a little, right, Bax? Heh heh. Good boy.