There was a mix-up with the scope. I have a small apartment that I wanted to make look larger ...
No. But I didn't really understand the drawings he presented me with.
And now you're balking at the cost of having all of existence in your living room.
Floor-length mirrors cost a couple hundred bucks each, apparently. And I have about 80 of them now.
Hence Jeff's understandable desire to put a murder-lien on you.
He didn't say murder specifically. He just said I had to pay him. And then he kind of stood there, looking a lot bigger than me.
He's a guy who works with his hands. I'm sure if he even touched you, you'd shatter like a light bulb. OK, we'll mark him down as Certain Murderer then, and plan appropriately.
I'm calling the police.
Don't bother. Phones use radio waves, which are basically light waves, which can't escape your mirror lair.
I am like 70 percent sure that's true. Your only chance is to fight your way out.
Should I not pursue the 30 percent possibility that you might not be right?
There's no time. Also, as the owner of this hall of mirrors, you have certain obligations as the villain of this fight.
I'm not the villain!
The only people who own halls of mirrors are villains and carnival owners. So which is it?
I guess I'm a villain then.
Do you have like a cruel echo-y laugh?
I don't think so.
OK, let's try some cruel taunting at least. Shout out that he's a con-tractor. Stress the "con."
And I have time for this?
Like he "conned" you.
No, I get it.
Say that it's "like he conned you."
I'm like 70 percent positive he gets it too.
Now yell that you're going to teach him a lesson.
We'll fake it. Did he say anything back?
No. Wait! THERE HE IS!
FIGHT LIKE A CHAMPION!
It was a mirror, wasn't it?
"He knows every move before I make it."