Ever wonder what would happen if characters from different television shows could have conversations with each other?
The phone rings in Toby’s office. Toby picks it up, annoyed that someone is interrupting his time with this morning’s Washington Post.
“Mr. Ziegler, this is Jack Bauer of the Counter Terrorist Unit, and I need—”
Toby hollers at one of his assistants.
“GINGER!! … I said senior staff only. Why the hell is Joe Friday on my phone while I’m reading my Post?” (Toby turns back to the phone.) “I’m sorry… it’s Mr. … Bauer, is it?”
“Yes, Jack Bauer.” (Pausing for name recognition, he continues.) “I’ve been instructed to contact concerning a matter of grave importance. I’m investigating the disappearance of a young woman named Eva Jansen, a nutrition intern at Georgetown. She recently transferred from UCLA, and we think it may have some connection to recent events at the White House, particularly concerning you.”
“If this is another attempt to scare me into eating salads, as God as my witness, I’m not in the mood.”
“No, Mr. Ziegler. This isn’t… I’m calling you because I need—”
“Mr. Bauer, you’re a reasonable man, are you not?”
“Yes, I am, but I’m in no position to be –”
“Okay well whatever Josh Lyman is paying you to harass me, I can assure you – I’ll double it.”
“I haven’t contact Mr. Lyman yet, he’s next on my list.”
“Okay, it’s not Josh, so who was it – C.J.? Will? God forbid the President himself would have this much free time, but whatever. Seriously, I can and will pay you out of the nose, Mr. Bauer. I will break out a credit card right now, I will read it to you over the phone, I’ll tell you my mother’s maiden name and the blood type of my first pet iguana if you will leave me alone and let me read my morning Post.”
“Five minutes, Toby? You don’t HAVE five minutes. I’m trying to tell you, we’re in an emergency situation here, and if I can’t get some immediate, concrete answers from you – ”
“Emergency situation?! You want immediate, concrete answers? Get in line, pal. I’m putting in twelve, fourteen, SIXTEEN hour days trying to get the leader of the free world to give a good ten-word answer on capital gains taxes, not to MENTION trying to cure his blatant inability to read a teleprompter at disturbingly calculated intervals, so if you think you can get on my phone, rattle off your agency credentials and expect me to bow in obeisance, then you might as well speed-dial your real-estate agent and close the deal on that mountain chalet in the middle of Nebraska!”
Jack pauses, unsure of which tactic to take.
“I was afraid you would be uncooperative, Mr. Ziegler. I didn’t want to have to take it to this level, but you are forcing my hand.”
Do you love your children, Toby?”
“What kind of Neanderthal do you think I am, of course I love my children.”
“Then you might be a little more responsive if this conversation were to take place at the George Mayfield Daycare facility in Annapolis, where Huck and Molly are enrolled.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“What would you do in order to ensure their safety, Mr. Ziegler?”
“Ensure their safety? … what the – Jack, you bastard. If you ever come within a five-mile radius of my children, so help me God, I will find your location and – waitaminute. George Mayfield? Andi took the twins out of Mayfield like … three months ago. Jack, get your people to do their homework first, wouldja?!”
Jack, putting the phone for a second, yells across the room.
“Dammit Tony, I thought you said this intel was reliable!”