Scene: A lunch-counter. A freckle-faced tyke orders a hot dog.
Counterman: Sorry, sonny, we’re out of hot-dogs.
Tyke: But -- but -- … )* sniff *(
Jack Bauer, suddenly looming into view: It’s alright, son, you’ll get your hot-dog.
[To counterman]: Take me, as a hostage. You can grind me into hot-dogs.
[Counterman shrugs.]
Tyke (suspiciously): But will I get a bun?
Jack: Yes, son, you’ll have a bun.
Tyke (relaxing a bit, but still wary): And … ketchup?
Jack (hoarse whisper): Yes, son, plenty of ketchup.
Tyke (taking charge): Pickle relish!
Jack: Yes, yes, whatever you want!!
Tyke (becoming blasé; to the counterman): I’ll have fries with that.
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