“Hello? What can I do for you – Hey! I know you. Aren’t you -“

“Hilary Rosen of the RIAA. We’ve come to shut down your illicit den of music piracy.”

“But I never expected the RIAA.”

“Nobody expects the RIAA. We’ve come to disinfect your computer of all the illicit files, including that Norah Jones single you downloaded last night off of Morpheus. So, step aside. That is, unless you want a Napalm shower.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts.’ We’ve come to sanitize your hard drive and remove all illegal intellectual property, including the Metallica songs you downloaded last week as well as the Ben Folds album that you copped last January.”

“But…”

“Thought we’d never catch you, eh, Mr. 29.027.09.47? Well, I’ve got news for you, creep. We traced your I.P. address months ago and we’ve been watching you for a very long time. Oh, sure, you just thought it was a few songs. Little did you know that the RIAA was on the case, watching your every mouse click as you stole songs by James Taylor, Bonnie Raitt and Red Hot Chili Peppers. It’s time to pay the piper, you filthy little weasel.”

“But…”

“You teenage slimeballs are all alike. You think music should be free for the taking. You download songs by Linkin Park or Limp Bizkit without ever thinking of the record company exec that lost his corner office because sales were down, or the poor starving vice presidents of Sony, Warner Bros., Universal as well as all those little indie labels no one can remember.”

“But…”

“And now your day of reckoning has arrived. We have a warrant allowing us to toss ever single file on your hard drive. Then we’re going to bring in the MP3-sniffing dogs to root out every single ill-gotten song, including the latest by Cher, Ben Kweller and Pearl Jam. That is, after the Agent Orange air strike.”

“But…”

“But first, the strip search. Now, up against the wall and spread ’em. Oh, and here’s something to bite down on during the cavity search.”

“But… But…”

“Yeah, you’re all alike. You think you’re hot stuff ripping off the major labels. You think you’re cool snagging free songs by Toby Keith or Def Leppard. ‘Vengeance is mine,’ says the U.S. Copyright Office, and I’m you’re judge, jury and, heh, heh, heh, executioner.”

“But…”

“‘But, but, but.’ Is that all you can say? Come one, speak up. What do you have to say for yourself, you little Napster breath?”

“Uh… Uh… Uh… Just a second.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Uh, Dad? There’s somebody at the door for you.”