The Angry Red Beauty
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He says, “I’m discerning human nature.”
He says, “Look at it this way. When the frog isn’t ribbitting the right song, there won’t be little ribbitters next year.”
He says, “Every time you look at a girl, she can tell exactly what you’re thinking. She’ll know what you want to do with her. She’ll know where you’ll take her on a first date. She’ll even know what kind of person you dated in the past.”
He says, “If she doesn’t like what she’s seeing, she’ll make up a lie and say why she won’t date you. I’ve gotten a lot of lines before and they all sound the same. ‘I’m already in a relationship,’ they’ll say. Or, ‘I’m not dating right now.’ Or, ‘Go away, I don’t like you.’ They all mean the same thing in the end.”
And I say, with a mouthful of popcorn, “Shut up. We’re watching a movie.”
If anyone’s ever had it hard, they can’t compare to what Sam was going through. At least, in his mind. Sam’s agony was rather trivial, but he had blown up and exaggerated everything in relating his pain to us to make it sound like the whole world was against him, and all he could do was ball up into a fetal position on the floor in the corner of a dark room. He’s been on this melodramatic trip of self-imposed misery for God knows how long, and frankly, most of us would have stopped paying attention to him if he didn’t have such a good collection of DVDs.
We’re all of us in Sam’s basement; me, him, Karen, and Diana. I’m laying down and taking up the entire loveseat with the bowl of popcorn right before me. Karen’s holding my hand, and she’s leaning back against the base of my seat. About two minutes ago, her hand went cold, almost as if she had died. When I leaned forward to look at her, I noticed that her eyes were so transfixed on the movie that she probably wouldn’t be able to hear anything we said.
We were watching one of those corny love movies, those date flicks following the basic formula. Guy likes girl, but girl likes someone else, so the guy goes through all these motions just to get the girl to fall in love with him. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. Something happens and their relationship is put to the test. In the end, they end up getting married or riding off into the sunset or something that leaves whatever future they hold to be indefinite but almost certainly happy.
This is the kind of stuff that makes me want to drown puppies.
Diana’s not buying into it either. She’s lying back on the floor with her eyes to the ceiling, blowing bubbles with her gum. The last time all four of us were kept as entertained as Karen was when we watched the last action movie Sam could find in his collection.
It used to be blood, guts, and violence we were laughing at.
Now it’s Audrey Hepburn staring through the windows of Tiffany’s.
Meanwhile, Sam’s pacing back and forth behind the loveseat, apparently deep in thought or something, but at least he’s finally shutting up after hours of incessant “I’m so depressed” speeches.
And then, ruining the precious few moments of silence, Sam says, “See, you’re doing it also.”
I say, “Doing what?”
“Making up an excuse so you don’t have to deal with me.”
Sam thinks that he’s on a grand crusade to rid the world of hypocrisy and lies, and that finding a date is his first step toward this goal. What he thinks he’s discovered so far is that:
a. all humans are inclined to lying and cheating;
b. women are evil and deceiving;
c. the cocky/funny guy always gets the girl, no matter how innocent she is or how ugly the guy is;
I say, “No, you’re disturbing the audience. I really do want to find out why Holly Golightly has so much money when she doesn’t do anything.” Sometimes, I just can’t help but sound tremendously sarcastic.
And then Sam adds another point to his list:
d. people often go straight into defense mechanisms when they don’t want to associate with someone--this varies from minor actions such as sarcasm to even punching. The most common defense mechanism is ignoring.
He says, “Look at you! Can’t you even hear when your best friend is crying for help?”
Diana looks over from the floor and says, “I hate the term “best friend” . . . .”
Karen squeezes my hand and looks up at me. She puts a finger to her lip to silently say, “Shut up.”
“Okay guys,” I say, “be quiet. The oh-so-handsome guy is taking Holly into his room.” Yeah, the sarcasm was still there as I faked excitement in wondering what would happen next.
* * *
A week later, I’m standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona when Sam comes up to me and says, “I’ve found a point e to add to the list.”
He says, “It’s this: I’m horrible at this stuff about dating so I should just stop trying.”
I say, “What was your first clue? The sixteenth date rejection in a row or the last girl threatening to get a restraining order?”
He says, “I ran into ‘Her’ again.”
“Her?”
“Yeah, ‘Her.’”
It had come to the point that Sam never referred to Erin by her name anymore, using only the nonspecific object pronoun “Her,” which had become accepted to his closest friends as being synonymous to “the evil redhead that dumped him on the eve of their one month anniversary and revealed that while they had been dating during that time, she had hooked up with three other guys.”
Giving her the name “Her” was just being kind.
If we had to pinpoint the cause of Sam’s social awkwardness . . . it’d probably all begin with Her.
He says, “Okay, so she was in the hallway between first and second period with this guy, Tyler . . .”
Etc. & etc. He goes off detailing about how Erin was practically carrying Tyler around school on a chain, and how they were making out whenever possible. Erin even managed to bring Tyler into the girls’ bathroom for a little while.
Sam never usually sees Erin during the day, though.
This is Sam bordering on stalking.
This is Sam bordering on obsession.
I shrug and say, “So?”
He says, “I really need to tell you this.”
* * *
A few days later, I’m walking through the parking lot at the mall when I come across Sam again. He’s in his car, not moving at all. His eyes are fixed on something directly ahead of him and his hands are still on the wheel. The car’s already parked in the space, but he hadn’t turned the engine off yet. I couldn’t tell if he had just gotten in or if he was just leaving.
Turned out, he had been sitting there for the past three hours.
I walk over to the car and tap the glass of the driver’s side window. His eyes don’t even move. I tap on the glass harder and call out, “Sam!” but he still doesn’t respond. The radio in his car isn’t even on--I can’t even hear the faintest hint of music coming from inside.
Then Sam turns to me with bloodshot eyes, a gaze of agony on his face. I can’t tell whether or not he’s sad or angry. I point my index finger downward, gesturing him to lower the window so I can talk to him, but he ignores me.
In the blink of an eye, he shifts his car into reverse and drives away.
And I think, this is really how things are supposed to be going.
* * *
That night, I catch Sam hanging outside Erin’s, house, just down the block from my place. I was just coming back from the 7-Eleven when I noticed a dark figure hiding in the bushes just outside Erin’s window.
This is Sam turned into a full-blown stalker.
This is Sam at his most obsessed moment.
Noticing him, I call over, “What do you think you’re doing?”
And he says, “Shut up. I’m watching something here.”
I make my way over to Sam and join him in the bush. He’s dressed in camouflage, like he’s planning on ambushing someone or spending the entire night camped here. I’m convinced that this is probably something that he could get criminal charges pressed against him for. At the least, this would call for a restraining order.
The term “Peeping Tom” comes to mind.
He says, “Any minute now, you’ll see Tyler walking in through the door over there” he points at the door at the end of the hallway we’re looking through “and he’ll be dressed only in his underwear.”
I shake my head and say, “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything and just keeps staring forward.
And so we sit there and wait for the door to open. We sit there and wait for Tyler to come out of the door. We wait for the half-naked messenger of Sam’s visions to come before us and make a revelation. I don’t even understand any of it, but I figured that I had best stick around Sam just in case something happens.
What happens?
I don’t know.
There’s just some kind of strange thrill in being around when something I can’t understand goes down and gives someone an epiphany. It’s like encountering the Divine in an epileptic seizure.
We’re there for about ten more minutes when finally the door swung open. Out fumed Tyler with all his muscular glory beneath a sweater and jeans, and to tell the truth, he looked pretty pissed. I look at Sam, expecting to find him terribly disappointed with this finding. But Sam had already gone.
* * *
The next morning before classes, Sam’s bent over the water fountain and he’s taking a long drink from it. He’s been there for at least fifteen minutes, and at one point I thought that he was probably trying to drown himself. A line of people had formed behind him, but they eventually grew discouraged and just walked away.
I tap him on the shoulder and say, “Trying to grow gills?”
He lifts his head from the fountain and looks at me. Without swallowing the water in his mouth, he shakes his head and returns to drinking. There’s something brighter about him, though. I can’t tell what it is, but if yesterday was Sam at his worse, then today was him at his best. If I didn’t know any better, I would have written Sam off as a manic depressive.
He lifts his head up from the fountain and says, “She’s going to be coming around here any minute now.”
And I think, did he memorize every moment of a day in the life of Erin?
And I think, this is definitely criminally obsessive stalking.
And I think, shouldn’t I tell him to just drop it?
But I don’t. I can’t. There’s a kind of strange willingness in me to see to it that Sam gets to the end of whatever plan he had in mind. I guess you could say that Sam was finally growing up now. This was Sam’s coming-of-age, his maturation. Who would I be to stop him from proceeding? Besides, whatever Sam had been going through proved beneficial for me too.
This past week was the most silence I had ever heard in Sam’s company.
There’s a faint glimmer of red in the corner of my eye, and before I recognize that it’s Erin’s hair, Sam’s off and running toward her. The next thing I know, they’re hugging and kissing like faithful lovers finally reunited after so many years.
It seems so weird to see them back together so suddenly, and without any warning too. But I shrug it off and walk away, leaving them to their devices.
* * *
In about another week, the warm smell of colitas are rising up through the air when Diana rings my doorbell. I answer the door and see that she’s carrying Sam with his right arm slung across her shoulders. She sets him down on the floor when she comes in and says, “Check out what I found on the floor outside the locker room.”
The moment Sam hit the floor, he lapsed into unconsciousness. I considered calling an ambulance for a moment but decided that I should check out his wounds first. I knelt down and examined Sam’s wounds. He had been beaten up pretty badly. Two black eyes, a cut across the forehead, a broken nose. I could only imagine the extent of damage on his torso area. That’s where I’d imagine most of the blows to have come.
And Diana says, “What he told me when I found him was that he got into a fight with that football player guy, Tyler, after he caught him making out with Erin.”
She says, “I don’t even understand why he would be driven to do that. I mean, everyone knows Erin is Tyler’s girl . . . .”
And I say, “Funny, I know exactly why.”
I say, “Sam’s in love. But the thing is, it drove all rational thought from his mind. I’m not sure what the entire story is, but I think I can make sense of it now that I see him like this.”
Diana cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“It looks like Sam’s obsession over how Erin had wronged him in the past led him beyond rational thought and into love. I mean, you know how Sam was always going off on a tangent whenever we talked about the points on human nature he found to be common to all people. I think that he was really focusing everything he said on what he thought about Erin. She had lied and cheated on him. She deceived him. And she did end up with Tyler, who’s cocky and funny I guess.
“Anyway, he came up to me about a week ago and told me that he was going to try and have Erin fall in love with him. From here, it’s purely conjecture. I think that he told Erin that he loved her or something and got rejected by her. Before he left her alone, he said that he would be more true to her than Tyler would be, or something along those lines. That led her to thinking, and that night, when she would have had some fun with Tyler, she refused him and he stormed out of the house. The next morning comes around and she realizes she’s in love with Sam, so they get back together.
“Then, a week later, Tyler realizes why Erin dumped him, so he finds Sam and beats him up like this.”
Diana looks at me, and then to Sam and says, “That’s the worst love story I’ve ever heard.” She turns around and walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with loverboy.”
I sigh and look down at Sam. His eyes suddenly spring open. I realize that he had been awake through my whole explanation, and probably laughing at how corny it sounded.
He says, “It’s sad to admit that Tyler didn’t do this to me.”
And I say, “Wait, what?”
He says, “If you want to know the truth, the day you saw me in the parking lot, yeah, I did talk to Erin beforehand. I did tell her I loved her, and she did reject me. But what I told her wasn’t any of that stuff about how I’d be so true to her or whatever. No way, that’s cliché and overused. I told her that Tyler was carrying an STD.”
I scratch my head, a little confused.
He says, “Yeah, so that’s why she left him. But this wasn’t really a fight to gain her love or anything. Well, at first I thought it was. That’s what I told you. But then, after I talked to Erin, I realized that maybe I wanted to get a little revenge. Maybe I wanted to be the one to lie and cheat and deceive, and let her know how it felt to be on the other side of the fence.”
I say, “And how’d that go?”
He says, “Look at me. How do you think it went? I found another girl . . . you know, the one that wanted to get a restraining order placed on me. Well, she wasn’t really serious about that at all. In fact, she was rather fond of me. We hooked up, right when Erin was walking over. I don’t think I have to say anything for you to know what happened from there.”
He says, “Oh, but I was able to add another point to my list of common human behaviors, which I’ll have you know, is not based totally on Erin. It’s based off of me too.”
He says, “Point f: never make a redhead angry.”
He says, “I’m discerning human nature.”
He says, “Look at it this way. When the frog isn’t ribbitting the right song, there won’t be little ribbitters next year.”
He says, “Every time you look at a girl, she can tell exactly what you’re thinking. She’ll know what you want to do with her. She’ll know where you’ll take her on a first date. She’ll even know what kind of person you dated in the past.”
He says, “If she doesn’t like what she’s seeing, she’ll make up a lie and say why she won’t date you. I’ve gotten a lot of lines before and they all sound the same. ‘I’m already in a relationship,’ they’ll say. Or, ‘I’m not dating right now.’ Or, ‘Go away, I don’t like you.’ They all mean the same thing in the end.”
And I say, with a mouthful of popcorn, “Shut up. We’re watching a movie.”
If anyone’s ever had it hard, they can’t compare to what Sam was going through. At least, in his mind. Sam’s agony was rather trivial, but he had blown up and exaggerated everything in relating his pain to us to make it sound like the whole world was against him, and all he could do was ball up into a fetal position on the floor in the corner of a dark room. He’s been on this melodramatic trip of self-imposed misery for God knows how long, and frankly, most of us would have stopped paying attention to him if he didn’t have such a good collection of DVDs.
We’re all of us in Sam’s basement; me, him, Karen, and Diana. I’m laying down and taking up the entire loveseat with the bowl of popcorn right before me. Karen’s holding my hand, and she’s leaning back against the base of my seat. About two minutes ago, her hand went cold, almost as if she had died. When I leaned forward to look at her, I noticed that her eyes were so transfixed on the movie that she probably wouldn’t be able to hear anything we said.
We were watching one of those corny love movies, those date flicks following the basic formula. Guy likes girl, but girl likes someone else, so the guy goes through all these motions just to get the girl to fall in love with him. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. Something happens and their relationship is put to the test. In the end, they end up getting married or riding off into the sunset or something that leaves whatever future they hold to be indefinite but almost certainly happy.
This is the kind of stuff that makes me want to drown puppies.
Diana’s not buying into it either. She’s lying back on the floor with her eyes to the ceiling, blowing bubbles with her gum. The last time all four of us were kept as entertained as Karen was when we watched the last action movie Sam could find in his collection.
It used to be blood, guts, and violence we were laughing at.
Now it’s Audrey Hepburn staring through the windows of Tiffany’s.
Meanwhile, Sam’s pacing back and forth behind the loveseat, apparently deep in thought or something, but at least he’s finally shutting up after hours of incessant “I’m so depressed” speeches.
And then, ruining the precious few moments of silence, Sam says, “See, you’re doing it also.”
I say, “Doing what?”
“Making up an excuse so you don’t have to deal with me.”
Sam thinks that he’s on a grand crusade to rid the world of hypocrisy and lies, and that finding a date is his first step toward this goal. What he thinks he’s discovered so far is that:
a. all humans are inclined to lying and cheating;
b. women are evil and deceiving;
c. the cocky/funny guy always gets the girl, no matter how innocent she is or how ugly the guy is;
I say, “No, you’re disturbing the audience. I really do want to find out why Holly Golightly has so much money when she doesn’t do anything.” Sometimes, I just can’t help but sound tremendously sarcastic.
And then Sam adds another point to his list:
d. people often go straight into defense mechanisms when they don’t want to associate with someone--this varies from minor actions such as sarcasm to even punching. The most common defense mechanism is ignoring.
He says, “Look at you! Can’t you even hear when your best friend is crying for help?”
Diana looks over from the floor and says, “I hate the term “best friend” . . . .”
Karen squeezes my hand and looks up at me. She puts a finger to her lip to silently say, “Shut up.”
“Okay guys,” I say, “be quiet. The oh-so-handsome guy is taking Holly into his room.” Yeah, the sarcasm was still there as I faked excitement in wondering what would happen next.
* * *
A week later, I’m standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona when Sam comes up to me and says, “I’ve found a point e to add to the list.”
He says, “It’s this: I’m horrible at this stuff about dating so I should just stop trying.”
I say, “What was your first clue? The sixteenth date rejection in a row or the last girl threatening to get a restraining order?”
He says, “I ran into ‘Her’ again.”
“Her?”
“Yeah, ‘Her.’”
It had come to the point that Sam never referred to Erin by her name anymore, using only the nonspecific object pronoun “Her,” which had become accepted to his closest friends as being synonymous to “the evil redhead that dumped him on the eve of their one month anniversary and revealed that while they had been dating during that time, she had hooked up with three other guys.”
Giving her the name “Her” was just being kind.
If we had to pinpoint the cause of Sam’s social awkwardness . . . it’d probably all begin with Her.
He says, “Okay, so she was in the hallway between first and second period with this guy, Tyler . . .”
Etc. & etc. He goes off detailing about how Erin was practically carrying Tyler around school on a chain, and how they were making out whenever possible. Erin even managed to bring Tyler into the girls’ bathroom for a little while.
Sam never usually sees Erin during the day, though.
This is Sam bordering on stalking.
This is Sam bordering on obsession.
I shrug and say, “So?”
He says, “I really need to tell you this.”
* * *
A few days later, I’m walking through the parking lot at the mall when I come across Sam again. He’s in his car, not moving at all. His eyes are fixed on something directly ahead of him and his hands are still on the wheel. The car’s already parked in the space, but he hadn’t turned the engine off yet. I couldn’t tell if he had just gotten in or if he was just leaving.
Turned out, he had been sitting there for the past three hours.
I walk over to the car and tap the glass of the driver’s side window. His eyes don’t even move. I tap on the glass harder and call out, “Sam!” but he still doesn’t respond. The radio in his car isn’t even on--I can’t even hear the faintest hint of music coming from inside.
Then Sam turns to me with bloodshot eyes, a gaze of agony on his face. I can’t tell whether or not he’s sad or angry. I point my index finger downward, gesturing him to lower the window so I can talk to him, but he ignores me.
In the blink of an eye, he shifts his car into reverse and drives away.
And I think, this is really how things are supposed to be going.
* * *
That night, I catch Sam hanging outside Erin’s, house, just down the block from my place. I was just coming back from the 7-Eleven when I noticed a dark figure hiding in the bushes just outside Erin’s window.
This is Sam turned into a full-blown stalker.
This is Sam at his most obsessed moment.
Noticing him, I call over, “What do you think you’re doing?”
And he says, “Shut up. I’m watching something here.”
I make my way over to Sam and join him in the bush. He’s dressed in camouflage, like he’s planning on ambushing someone or spending the entire night camped here. I’m convinced that this is probably something that he could get criminal charges pressed against him for. At the least, this would call for a restraining order.
The term “Peeping Tom” comes to mind.
He says, “Any minute now, you’ll see Tyler walking in through the door over there” he points at the door at the end of the hallway we’re looking through “and he’ll be dressed only in his underwear.”
I shake my head and say, “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything and just keeps staring forward.
And so we sit there and wait for the door to open. We sit there and wait for Tyler to come out of the door. We wait for the half-naked messenger of Sam’s visions to come before us and make a revelation. I don’t even understand any of it, but I figured that I had best stick around Sam just in case something happens.
What happens?
I don’t know.
There’s just some kind of strange thrill in being around when something I can’t understand goes down and gives someone an epiphany. It’s like encountering the Divine in an epileptic seizure.
We’re there for about ten more minutes when finally the door swung open. Out fumed Tyler with all his muscular glory beneath a sweater and jeans, and to tell the truth, he looked pretty pissed. I look at Sam, expecting to find him terribly disappointed with this finding. But Sam had already gone.
* * *
The next morning before classes, Sam’s bent over the water fountain and he’s taking a long drink from it. He’s been there for at least fifteen minutes, and at one point I thought that he was probably trying to drown himself. A line of people had formed behind him, but they eventually grew discouraged and just walked away.
I tap him on the shoulder and say, “Trying to grow gills?”
He lifts his head from the fountain and looks at me. Without swallowing the water in his mouth, he shakes his head and returns to drinking. There’s something brighter about him, though. I can’t tell what it is, but if yesterday was Sam at his worse, then today was him at his best. If I didn’t know any better, I would have written Sam off as a manic depressive.
He lifts his head up from the fountain and says, “She’s going to be coming around here any minute now.”
And I think, did he memorize every moment of a day in the life of Erin?
And I think, this is definitely criminally obsessive stalking.
And I think, shouldn’t I tell him to just drop it?
But I don’t. I can’t. There’s a kind of strange willingness in me to see to it that Sam gets to the end of whatever plan he had in mind. I guess you could say that Sam was finally growing up now. This was Sam’s coming-of-age, his maturation. Who would I be to stop him from proceeding? Besides, whatever Sam had been going through proved beneficial for me too.
This past week was the most silence I had ever heard in Sam’s company.
There’s a faint glimmer of red in the corner of my eye, and before I recognize that it’s Erin’s hair, Sam’s off and running toward her. The next thing I know, they’re hugging and kissing like faithful lovers finally reunited after so many years.
It seems so weird to see them back together so suddenly, and without any warning too. But I shrug it off and walk away, leaving them to their devices.
* * *
In about another week, the warm smell of colitas are rising up through the air when Diana rings my doorbell. I answer the door and see that she’s carrying Sam with his right arm slung across her shoulders. She sets him down on the floor when she comes in and says, “Check out what I found on the floor outside the locker room.”
The moment Sam hit the floor, he lapsed into unconsciousness. I considered calling an ambulance for a moment but decided that I should check out his wounds first. I knelt down and examined Sam’s wounds. He had been beaten up pretty badly. Two black eyes, a cut across the forehead, a broken nose. I could only imagine the extent of damage on his torso area. That’s where I’d imagine most of the blows to have come.
And Diana says, “What he told me when I found him was that he got into a fight with that football player guy, Tyler, after he caught him making out with Erin.”
She says, “I don’t even understand why he would be driven to do that. I mean, everyone knows Erin is Tyler’s girl . . . .”
And I say, “Funny, I know exactly why.”
I say, “Sam’s in love. But the thing is, it drove all rational thought from his mind. I’m not sure what the entire story is, but I think I can make sense of it now that I see him like this.”
Diana cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“It looks like Sam’s obsession over how Erin had wronged him in the past led him beyond rational thought and into love. I mean, you know how Sam was always going off on a tangent whenever we talked about the points on human nature he found to be common to all people. I think that he was really focusing everything he said on what he thought about Erin. She had lied and cheated on him. She deceived him. And she did end up with Tyler, who’s cocky and funny I guess.
“Anyway, he came up to me about a week ago and told me that he was going to try and have Erin fall in love with him. From here, it’s purely conjecture. I think that he told Erin that he loved her or something and got rejected by her. Before he left her alone, he said that he would be more true to her than Tyler would be, or something along those lines. That led her to thinking, and that night, when she would have had some fun with Tyler, she refused him and he stormed out of the house. The next morning comes around and she realizes she’s in love with Sam, so they get back together.
“Then, a week later, Tyler realizes why Erin dumped him, so he finds Sam and beats him up like this.”
Diana looks at me, and then to Sam and says, “That’s the worst love story I’ve ever heard.” She turns around and walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with loverboy.”
I sigh and look down at Sam. His eyes suddenly spring open. I realize that he had been awake through my whole explanation, and probably laughing at how corny it sounded.
He says, “It’s sad to admit that Tyler didn’t do this to me.”
And I say, “Wait, what?”
He says, “If you want to know the truth, the day you saw me in the parking lot, yeah, I did talk to Erin beforehand. I did tell her I loved her, and she did reject me. But what I told her wasn’t any of that stuff about how I’d be so true to her or whatever. No way, that’s cliché and overused. I told her that Tyler was carrying an STD.”
I scratch my head, a little confused.
He says, “Yeah, so that’s why she left him. But this wasn’t really a fight to gain her love or anything. Well, at first I thought it was. That’s what I told you. But then, after I talked to Erin, I realized that maybe I wanted to get a little revenge. Maybe I wanted to be the one to lie and cheat and deceive, and let her know how it felt to be on the other side of the fence.”
I say, “And how’d that go?”
He says, “Look at me. How do you think it went? I found another girl . . . you know, the one that wanted to get a restraining order placed on me. Well, she wasn’t really serious about that at all. In fact, she was rather fond of me. We hooked up, right when Erin was walking over. I don’t think I have to say anything for you to know what happened from there.”
He says, “Oh, but I was able to add another point to my list of common human behaviors, which I’ll have you know, is not based totally on Erin. It’s based off of me too.”
He says, “Point f: never make a redhead angry.”