Dwight: Jim, Jim, Jim. Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim.
Jim: Oh, hey, Dwight.
Dwight: I'm going to be your new boss. It's my greatest dream come true. Welcome to the Hotel Hell. Check-in time is now. Check-out time is never.
Jim: Does my room have cable?
Dwight: No. And the sheets are made of fire!
Jim: Can I change rooms?
Dwight: Sorry, we're all booked up. Hell convention in town.
Jim: Can I have a late check-out?
Dwight: I'll have to talk to the manager.
Jim: You're not the manager? Even in your own fantasy?
Dwight: I'm the owner. The co-owner. With Satan.
Jim: Okay, just so I understand it: in your wildest fantasy, you are in hell, and you are co-running a bed and breakfast with the devil.
Dwight: Yeah, but I haven't told you my salary yet.
Jim: Go.
Dwight: $80,000 a year.

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