Slate: Hello? Anybody here?
(Fred appears in disguise and using a snooty accent)
Fred: May I be of service?
Slate: Yes. I'm thinking of renting an apartment.
Fred: Sorry, sir. There's nothing available except the penthouse. And you wouldn't be interested in that. Extremely expensive, you know.
Slate: Well, I didn't want to go too high.
Fred: I don't blame you, sir. Goodbye.
Slate: But now that I'm here, I might as well look at it.
Fred: Uh...yeah. All right. Uh, shall we walk up?
Slate: Walk? What's wrong with the elevator?
Fred: Elevator? Oh, I say, you are spoofy. Why, the elevator hasn't worked in months.
Slate: But it--but it's 10 stories.
Fred: How about that? Ho ho ho.
(Moments later, Fred reaches the 10th floor)
Fred: (panting) If you can't make it, we'll just forget about it.
Slate: What do you mean can't make it? (immediately runs up the stairs) This is great exercise. I wouldn't care if you never fix the elevator.
Fred: (in his normal voice) Oh, boy.