Ha, ha, ha, if you think that's funny, wait until you learn what it means for your future. And you find out that it’s hot! hot! hot! down there. Landlord has a red skin and horns, and a pitchfork, and a nasty attitude. He doesn’t like anyone, not even a nice little feller like you.
And the flames, the flames. And no water, boy, could I go for a glass of water. Or a cup. Or a thimbleful. Or a wet cloth? Anything? Anything at all?
How hot is it down here, anyway?