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Are we just jumping right into this, or-- Not literally, you ass! You scared me half to death! What is your-- Ow! Join this great new club. Brandy, if you have it. Fresh out, turns out.
You should have your underbutler fire the housekeeper. Yeah, maybe after he's done getting the caviar stains out of my spats. I was being facetious, Mr. I-- I know you're poor. This cannot be the middle. Heiress to the vast Vandertunt publishing fortune. So, I've had a long day. My office was burgled. I pissed off two crime bosses and a dirty cop, and crushed the ankles of a psychopath who, just for kicks, melts people. So, as much as I would genuinely like to, I'm afraid I don't have time to kill you.
You misunderstand me, Mr. I want you to help me fake my death. The ten grand is plenty. I'm afraid this is nonnegotiable. Uh, plus my ear hurts? They murder their parents and blame it on some poor Hispanic or Negro. Yes, I thought about that, but I don't know any Hispanics or Negroes. No, they make up the Hispanic or Negro. I honestly wouldn't know where to begin. Okay, but-- Boy, these are good.
But putting aside, for now, why you'd want to fake your own death-- Because I have to get away from my family. They're a seething cauldron of neurotic, alcoholic, narcissistic, quasi-incestuous megalomaniacs! Are you going to help me or not? I-- Look, I really don't think you've thought this thing through.
For starters, even if you pull this off, what are you gonna do for money? Well, I-- I shall work, of course.