FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

All I managed to do after Deacon scurried away with my shirt plastered to his face was this:

1.) Smile like a moron.

2.) Collapse onto Benji's bed.

3.) Laugh uncontrollably, in utter bliss, for five minutes straight.

I couldn't keep the joy I was feeling at bay! I felt like what the glow of a candle looks like, whimsical, warm - something you wish to never put out. I wanted this feeling to last forever, so I could bask in it every morning, for every hour of the day.

Everything that had happened, although I knew it had, seemed like a far off dream, the kind of vague recollection that leaves you flabbergasted as to whether or not it truly transpired. I squirmed and smiled, pressing my fingers to my lips. The warmth of his kiss was still there, reminding me that he'd been with me. He'd snatched me into his arms and held me as though he'd no intention of putting me back down.

I hadn't been so happy in years.

I rolled onto my side and let out a contented sigh. Things were turning around it would seem.

Sitting up I saw the clothes Benji had left for me still folded at the end of the bed. I scooted off of the side, then did my best to smooth out the valleys and ridges I'd made in the comforter. It wasn't as pristine as when I'd first seen it, but hopefully no one would notice. After straightening the pillows I crept to the dainty little stack of clothing and lay them out before me.

Casual-classiness; that's exactly what they were. I didn't feel worthy to wear them, actually. Although, they did reflect on a new side of me, a side that was rich with joy and no longer afraid to show his true self. Benji had said they suited me.

There was a glossy violet dress shirt that hugged my upper body perfectly, the fabric so silky that it seemed to float atop my fur instead of press it down. I fumbled with the buttons a few times and it came out closed but uneven. I was only used to pullover-tees, but I got it eventually. A pair of black dress pants came on next. They fit like a nice set of slim jeans, sitting low on my hips, the legs fitting to the shape of my leg while not making them appear to be to long or skinny. I had a little room to spare in them, about an inch or two, so I tucked the shirt in, trying my best to get the tuck-to-ruffle ratio just right. My mother used to chastise me for leaving the shirt out, saying it made me look like a slacker, but after all my trouble I looked like I had a bright purple muffin-top. Sneering, I just shoved the entire base of the shirt into the pants and grabbed the next article, a skinny three-button vest. It was black, but when it caught the light in a certain way it glistened like a piece of decorated platinum. My eyes trembled as I tried to look more closely at it, different Paisley designs shimmering silver as I would turn it this way and that. It reminded me of the holographic trading cards I use to collect as a kid, where the picture would go from one action to another just by a tilt. After I got it on and buttoned, it covered my deeply tucked shirt so I didn't bother trying to ruffle it again. No shoes, so I just put my Converse back on. They were black anyway, leather too, so they fit in rather well and expanded upon the casualness.

With everything on I went and stood in front of the honeycomb mirrors to see if I cleaned up well, and I could hardly recognize the fur in the reflection. He was chic. He was swanky. He, dare I say it, was someone I'd want to date. I couldn't help but frown at thinking that, it seemed to...narcissistic. I'd never thought nor judged whether I was considered attractive, I was always more focused on Deacon, or school. School was school, indifferent and uncaring, but Deacon always treated me like I was perfect in every way. I never took the thought of how I looked to any extremes, I didn't feel the need to. Now, however, I was seeing myself in a completely new way. Benji had been right when he'd said Deacon and I would be seeing one another in a different light, be making an entirely new first-impression. I didn't think it would be that way with myself, though. There I was, this handsome guy, with a radiant expression of joy on his face, both poise and presence denoting to a confidence that I didn't know I had.

"Hello," I said, "Colby Randall Crow - It's lovely to finally meet you."

We bowed elegantly to one another, tails curling at our backs like Benji's did earlier that night.

I fixed my hair, the bowing causing it to fall in front on my eyes, then noticed the drawer Benji had opened wasn't shut completely. I could see the sheen of plastic in it, just a smidgeon, and for a moment I thought about taking a peek. I couldn't betray him like that, though. He'd hidden the thing for a reason, and to look at something he considered to be private, especially after all he'd done, would be despicable of me. The wooden drawer squeaked as I nudged it completely closed, then I looked myself over one more time and headed out of the room.

I did my best to make my way quietly down the stairs, my ears twitching as I tried to listen for any sign of conversation coming from the first floor. There was a subtle hum, but it could have been the sound of the air conditioner, or possibly a jet flying over. The airways tended to stay pretty crowded down here with Charleston bringing in a lot of tourists, the airport being massive. There was also the Naval and Air Force bases, so military planes and carriers frequently vibrated the skies with their rumbling turbines.

It turned out that it was the TV, the volume turned down and nearly muted. I peaked out of the hallway to be greeted by an empty living-room, the flat-screen playing the ending credits of Cowboy Bebop, so Lani had been here and finished the episode. It was an eery almost-quite, unsettling. I just stood in the middle of the den and listened, hoping to catch one of their voices. Well, one in particular.

My nose twitched as an overwhelmingly scrumptious smell wafted out of the kitchen. The air tasted of succulent meat, the juices seeming to spring into my mouth and thrill my taste-buds. My stomach roared, the unrestrained quivering of it nearly rattling my ribcage. I whined as a dribble of spit sloshed from my mouth, wiping it away with a swipe of my backhand, realizing I did in fact have more in common with my father than I thought. He drooled, too, especially on the days when he'd return from physical-therapy, having eaten nothing all day long. He acted less his age and more like mine then, sitting at the table with the utensils clutched in his huge paws, eyes wide in anticipation, thumping his fists into the wooden surface with the beat of a row-master's drum. We had a game for those days.

He'd look at me and twitch his ears, and I'd squeal, "Daddy, what big ears you have!"

"The better to hear you with," he'd say, his voice low and rough as though he'd swallowed sand-paper.

He'd then open his green eyes as wide as they would go, "What big eyes you have, daddy!"

I'd giggle as he'd lean far over the table toward me, "The better to seeeeeee you with, my dear!" He'd always draw out "see" as he'd lean closer, ending it when his wet nose would squish against mine.

The table would shudder softly as he'd continue his beat, "What big hands you have!"

About this time, mom would slip our food onto the table, and he'd reach for both his plate and mine, "All the better to grab you with!"

He'd pull our food toward him then jab his fork into his and the spoon into mine, opening his mouth wide as though he were going to eat them both. I'd squeak in distress as the food would get closer and closer to his gaping mouth, "Daddy! What big teeth you have!"

He'd stop, sitting as still as a statue, mouth still open and food latent utensils hovering motionless in front of it. I'd grin, his muzzle yanking upward and revealing rows of sharp ivory fangs, "All the better..."

I had to open my mouth quick, otherwise the spoon in his hand would crack against my front teeth as he'd shove it onto my tongue, bellowing, "TO EAT YOU WITH!"

We'd both nearly choke as we chewed and laughed at the same time, then once we'd swallowed we'd let our heads thump against the table as we lay them down.

Here, I'd peek and watch as mom would stomp from the kitchen. She'd stand heroically with a steak knife clutched in her paw, her long tan tail coiling behind her back, surveying the two of us through squinted hazel eyes.

"Hark!" she'd chime, "Did mine ears hear correctly? Is there a Big-bad wolf about in my house? Perhaps..." she'd sweep the knife out, motioning to the both of us giggling softly, "...two? Two Big-bad wolves?"

Dad's voice would be muffled as his face would be squished against the table, "There is but one big wolf, my dear! One big and one small! As to whether we are bad..."

We'd raise our heads and smile at her, our lips curling back and revealing our teeth, "That is for you to decide!"

Then we'd both cackle like evil-geniuses, our "muahahaha's" causing mom to raise her arm in front of her face and gasp, "Noooooooooooooooooooo!"

I chuckled to myself as I walked into the kitchen, missing those days, missing the fun we all used to have together.

"There you are," Benji clucked, pausing as he sat a dish onto the dinner table where Deacon and Lani were already sitting.

Deacon gasped, his chest expanding and eyes popping as he looked me over. His chair slid silently back as he stood, and that goofy grin broke out across his face. I smiled back without thinking, it was automatic now. I glided to the chair next to his without taking my eyes off of his face, his tail wagging, expression one of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken grunt. His cheeks flushed beneath his fur.

He cleared his throat, hand reaching out and brushing a hair out of my eyes then slipping gently across my cheek, "You...Bo, you look amazing."

The tips of his fingers were like glowing embers against my skin, "Likewise."

"I feel a little under-dressed."

"You're perfect."

He stretched the collar of his shirt out as though he were having trouble breathing, brows dipping uncertainly, "I could at least have a tie or something. I mean, geesh, Colby. You...wow...my hands are sweating and everything."

I wrapped my right hand around his, moistness gracing my touch, and pressed my left to his chest. His heart was beating furiously, faster then when he'd pulled me out of the street and kept me from getting flattened. It felt strange knowing that I could do this to him, both in a good way and a bad one, because I knew what both sides felt like. This was the pleasant side though, where your heart could explode and you wouldn't mind, there being someone there who could piece it back together with just a simple loving touch.

I was surprised that my own heart was beating at supersonic speeds. Normally it would've been, but I believe that was in part to the nervousness my "secret" crush brought on. Now that we knew how we felt about one another, I was unfathomably content with touching him and being with him. I mean, we did make out earlier. I was living my dream, the reverie of not having to hide anything anymore.

He smiled gingerly as I did my best to speak proper, it coming out as kind of a cordial British accent.

"So," I said, "I believe we had things to tell one another?"

"Well, only a few things since, err..." He coughed awkwardly, furry brows a straight line across his forehead as he looked to Benji and Lani, "Since our...uh..."

I guess he hadn't told them what he'd done. A shame, really, considering how romantic it was.

Lani rolled her eyes and grinned devilishly, "You don't have to be so PG, big guy. We can guess what happened."

"Lani!" Benji snapped, holding back a laugh, his mismatched eyes twinkling, "She's right though. Nothing to be ashamed of, hon, we know you better than you think we do." He gave a sly wink, and Deacon seemed to relax.

He placed his free hand over mine, the beating of his heart even stronger as the pressure of his touch weighed on mine, "I would guess so, huh?"

I shrugged, peering into those emerald eyes, "They have a way of getting into your head."

"Well, I'd like to get in there as well. You know what I had to say, and - well." He bowed and kissed me softly on the lips, "It's been said."

I had to wait for my skin to stop tingling, "So it has. My turn now, huh? I think I have some explaining to do."

"Mmhmm," he agreed.

"First though," Benji said politely, "We should all eat. Colby, you're stomach has been trying to claw its way out since you got here, so I know you're starving. You too, Deacon. You didn't get to eat either."

Lani chimed in as Deacon and I sat, "Let's just say we're all starving, huh?"

We had to agree.

"Then dig in, guys," Benji said with a clap of his paws, "Plenty to go around."

Benji had outdone himself. As much as I wanted to talk about what had happened, my stomach was talking even louder. It overpowered my eagerness to be honest with the eagerness to eat everything in sight. I nearly lost a finger or two to my own mouth clamping down like a vice-grip.

The steak was perfectly cooked through-and-through, there wasn't even any of that gross, chewy fat on the meat. At some point, while I was upstairs I guess, he - or Lani - pureed the tomatoes and turned them into a delectable marinara sauce. Whatever he'd put in it had made it sweet, a perfect balance with the tartness of the fruits natural flavor, then it went into the same pan as the meat. The vegetables he'd been chopping were thrown in as well, and I would've believed that all of the different flavors would overpower one another, becoming a mess. Gladly that wasn't the case. The steak had seemed to suck up that sweet and sourness, the pepper's spice, the juices that seeped from it while frying mingling with the marinara into a sauce that I couldn't begin to describe. Each piece seemed to explode with flavor when I'd bite down on it, a buttery, sweet, and spicy aftertaste lingering on your tongue even after you'd swallowed. I'd never had anything like it in my life, and clearly Deacon hadn't either. We (pardon the pun) wolfed it down with gusto, Lani watching in amusement as our forks scratched at the bottom of the ceramic plates more than once. I suppose she was used to Benji's cooking, but good God, if she wasn't enjoying it I believed I would've pushed her aside and stolen her plate, becoming the Big-bad wolf that my mother hunted so strenuously at meal times when I was little.

After we decided we'd had enough we helped to clean up. Deacon and I were humble with our bellies full, relishing that warm and tired feeling that follows such a rich meal. We picked and teased with one another, bumping playfully as we'd straighten out the table or carry dishes to be put away, the quick instances of contact making us swoon with delight.

Lani offered to make coffee after everything was done, which I'm glad she did. We'd retired to the living-room, Deacon and I sprawling out on the love-seat, of course. You could tell how exhausted the both of us were, and when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders I couldn't stop my head from falling to rest on his chest. Nothing compares to the comfort of relaxing with the one you care about, and as the warmth of his body slipped over me like a blanket, and my head rose and fell with each breath he took, my eyes nearly clamped shut in an instant. Luckily, the coffee was ready by then, and Lani became my new favorite fur as she made the java dark and strong.

Soon weariness was replaced with jittery wakefulness, and I had to shed my vest and unbutton my shirt a little, the heat of the coffee upping my body temperature by a few degrees.

Lani lingered on the sofa next to Benji for a bit, but not even the coffee seemed to be able to keep her eyes from drooping. In fact, it seemed to make her even more tired. Soon she shuffled down the hall, her tail limp and body sagging, claiming that she needed to go the girl's-room. We knew she was probably going to bed, but didn't want to say goodbye. She wasn't the goodbye type of girl.

Deacon squeezed me into him as I sat and enjoyed his company, his breath tickling the fur in my ear, "So, feel like sharing?"

I chuckled, "It's about time I did, right?"

"Only if you want to."

"No - I need to."

I shifted and reached into my pocket to grab my wallet, struggling to get a hold of it, but finally wrenching it free. I'd had it for years, and the black leather was so scuffed and indented with the shapes of what it held that it was a wonder it was still together. I couldn't get rid of it though.

"This," I said, holding it up for Deacon, "was my dad's."

He looked at it reverently as though he could sense its worth to me, "You never told me what happened to him."

"I know. Open it and look in the first pouch, the one beneath the rest."

He unwrapped his arm from around me and took it carefully, flipping it open and searching inside, "Here?" He stuck the end of his finger in the innermost pouch, the one that opened in the bend of the material.

I nodded and he slipped out what was inside, holding it up in front of his long muzzle.

"Oh my God," he mumbled, his lips frozen in a parted frown.

"Uncanny, right?"

"I...I thought it was me at first."

"Nope, that's my dad, Tobias."

The picture of my father in his police uniform was one of my most cherished possessions, along with his wallet and the silver necklace he'd been wearing when he was killed. My mother had given them to me, saying that I should always carry a piece of him with me wherever I went. "You carry him in your heart, and in your memories," she'd said, "but these were with him all the time. A piece of him will be in them forever, and I think you should have that. He would've wanted you to."

Since then I'd never had another wallet, and the necklace was around my neck 24/7. Sitting there the metal band around my neck seemed to heat up, as though he knew I was thinking about him. It did that pretty often.

Deacon hadn't taken his eyes off of the picture, "This is...wow. Is that why you ran? Because I look like your father?"

"That's part of it. You need to know what happened to him first."

He scooted down a bit, turning his body toward me and giving me his undivided attention.

Benji piped up from the sofa, "May I see?"

Deacon handed me the picture and I handed it to Benji. His eyes flashed from the photo to Deacon, growing wide with each glance, "That's unreal! You two could have been twins!"

"What happened, bo?"

I shifted uncomfortably. I had never told anyone about what truly happened that day, it was always to much for me to handle. I never felt that anyone could appreciate what my father had done, so I had kept everything inside, the feelings surrounding the incident sinking deeper into myself yet seeming to ferment, separating into individual flashes of primal emotions that would always overpower me. Anger, hatred, despair, pain - I became an entirely different person, malevolent.

Deacon watched me tenderly, his silver fur catching the light from the lamp next to him and shining like polished steel. A tiny smile crooked up at the corner of his mouth.

If anyone would truly grasp that day fourteen years ago, understand what had happened, Deacon would. In the back of my mind I kept thinking that he should know, since he was my father reborn the tale shouldn't be a surprise, it should be like a dormant memory. To me he'd lived it already, and as stupid as that sounds, placing him in my father's shoes and seeing him as my dad helped me to get the story out. It felt like I was retelling it from my perspective, honoring him in a way as he sat across from me and smiled.

"First," I said, "everything happened because of what I am."

That statement clicked with Deacon, him knowing that I was referring to my hybridism, but Benji just stared in confusion.

I turned to him, "I'm a hybrid, I forgot I never told you. Dad was a wolf, mom was a cougar, and I was born naturally between them."

He seemed to get knocked back by that realization, "Holy shit! When I saw the picture I just assumed you'd been adopted or something. I thought you were, like, a Marten, or a skinny Wolverine! That's amazing!"

Again, a wolverine? Besides that ,though, the genuine interest in my parentage was a sight for sore eyes, "Nope, Cougar-wolf; Wolf-cougar, Wougar, whatever."

He scooted closer.

"Anyway, that doesn't happen often, as you can imagine. I wasn't technically supposed to be possible. My birth was a big deal, I guess, but my parents wouldn't let the paper or the news channels run anything about it. They didn't want any unnecessary attention. The doctors wanted to test on me, too, but dad snuffed that interest out pretty quickly. Doctor-Patient confidentiality kept them from revealing anything to anyone, but the fact that my dad was the Police captain made them hold their tongues even more.

"That didn't stop it from getting around, though, but we never had any trouble because of it. I got picked on in school a little, but nothing more than that."

"I had no idea," Deacon said.

"Which is good in a sense. No one really cares anymore."

"Keep going," Benji said.

I smiled, "Well, my dad, like I said, was the Police captain of our cities Patrol division, very proactive in the community. He loved his job, loved helping people. Everyone loved him, too: Coworkers, staff, civilians. He had a remarkable reputation, and was supposed to be promoted to Sergeant, but..."

I bit my lip. They both sat quietly as I composed myself.

"He'd gotten hurt on duty, maybe, eight months before...before it happened, and had been going to physical-therapy to regain full use of his right arm."

"What happened?" Deacon asked softly, Benji craning in closer to hear.

"A perp stabbed him in the shoulder. I mean, the knife was huge - Davy Crockett would have been jealous. He brought it home and showed it to me. It mangled the muscle pretty badly, damaged the nerves. The surgery was hard on him, especially since he was right handed. He couldn't go out on patrol for a long time afterward and was stuck doing desk work.

"But, being what he was, he'd made some enemies with local criminals and such. They despised him because of how good he was at his job, and decided to attempt to blackmail him, get him out of his position."

Deacon squinted, "How?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Benji scoffed. He'd gotten it, probably because I'd told him about the shooting already.

"By using me."

"Oh, bo..."

I nodded grimly, "Yeah. It was a local Kingpin. He had me kidnapped from school, decided to hold me for ransom, demanding my dad step down or I'd be killed."

Deacon's eyes blazed like green fire. My dad's did that, too. They had been ignited that way when he'd screeched to a stop and leaped out of his cruiser, his left hand trembling with his gun clutched in it by a death-grip.

I continued, his paw clutched over my knee, "He hadn't fully recovered. His right arm wasn't up to speed, and they knew it. He wasn't a threat himself, especially not when they had me there, a pistol stuck to the side of my head."

That spot just above my right ear went cold, a frigid ring where the barrel of the gun had been so harshly jabbed, "I was so scared, to scared to fully comprehend what was happening. I mean, I was only eight, so I didn't know what they wanted. I only knew that they were threatening to kill me, and then my dad showed up pointing his gun at them, and then they were threatening to kill him, too."

My heart pumped a jolting beat, fire seeming to be born of it, spreading out through my veins like molten rock, "I didn't like that. He was my father, half of my whole world; the bear-guy taking the gun from my head and pointing it at him made me angrier than I had ever been in my life. 'Threaten me, but do not threaten my papa' is what I thought. My elbow found his groin, and I did like my dad had taught me and disarmed him with a twist of his wrist. The gun hit the ground, and..."

The scar on my leg seared red-hot. I grimaced as that shot rang out in my head, the memory of that agonizing pain, that surreal pressure as the bullet passed through my leg flaring and causing bile to rise in my throat.

"It went off. Shot me in the leg, right here."

I stretched out and yanked up my pants leg, the fabric squeezing like a constrictor as I hiked it up to my meaty thigh, the fur tugging. The scar seemed to bloom out of the blackness of the pants and my dark fur, and I didn't stop Deacon as he prodded it carefully, his touch slight as though he were afraid it would open up again. Benji stayed put.

"There's another one here on the other side, where it went in, but the exit wound is always the more devastating."

He stroked the outside of my leg, finding the dime-size scar there, his muzzle dipped into a jagged frown, "How bad was it?"

"I nearly bled to death. It passed through my femoral artery."

He went pale, and I thought he was on the verge of passing out. After a moments silence I continued.

"Anyway, when the gun went off and I hit the ground, one of the other officers there shot the guy where he stood. From what I've heard, he fell, and my dad dashed out to get me. I remember him scooping me up, holding me tight, then running back toward the barricade of police cars. Then there were more bangs of a gun. I thought maybe they'd shot the bear-guy again, and that made me smile. But dad jerked, stumbled. His hands clamped down on me so hard that I screamed. Then we fell, he twisted and hit the ground so hard that I felt his head and shoulder crack into the concrete.

"The bear-guy had found his gun, and in a final act, he shot my dad five times in the back. My mother said that the cops filled the coward so full of lead that you couldn't recognize him afterward, but he did what he'd wanted to do - he got rid of Captain Tobias Crow."

Deacon looked on the verge of tears, "Colby..."

"He never let me go. When he should have died, he didn't. He refused, holding me to him and telling me it'd be okay, that the paramedics would be there soon. He cried and I cried. He didn't want me to realize what was going to happen, but I had already. I mean, there was so much blood, both mine and his. I thought we'd die there together, and that was okay. He would have been there with me going from one world to the next, so when he told me 'Son, don't worry,' I didn't. Not for myself at least. I worried for him, for my mother. But I'd fallen into this peaceful limbo where it was warm, and there was a beat behind the quite, steady and filling everything. Then it started to slow, though. That warmth turned cold. Then the beat stopped. I hadn't even realized that I'd closed them, but I opened my eyes and he was gone. His green eyes were clouded, like a mist had settled within them, but he was smiling.

"I remember screaming for him, screaming for him to wake up, then nothing. I woke up in the hospital a few days later with my mother laying next to me."

Benji had moved and sat in the floor in front of me, his hands covering his muzzle. Deacon was stock still, his eyes burrowing into the pillow he'd grabbed and squeezed the life out of.

"Colby," he mumbled, "I...I had no idea." He lifted his face to look at me, a tear bubbling from the corner of his eye and rolling like a boulder down his cheek, "And...and I said that, too. It probably killed you inside." He leaned over and pressed his head into my chest, "I'm so fucking sorry, Colby. I had no idea about any of this. I feel like the biggest asshole now."

That's not what I wanted at all.

I gently lifted his big head, my hands pressing the soft fur of his cheeks down, "Don't say that. It's not you're fault, it's just the biggest fucking coincidence in the entire world. Like, for real."

I wished he'd smile, but his lips stayed pressed into a thin line of melancholy, "You loved him so much, and I've been forcing this on you, the fact that he's gone."

"I actually only recently discovered the resemblance, Deac. Namely at the restaurant. You just needed to know the story behind what happened so when I said 'Oh, uh, you look exactly like my dad. That's why I ran like a chicken,' you'd understand. There was more to it than that, so I didn't want you to think I was just making up a transparent excuse."

"I wouldn't have thought that."

"You don't think you would have, not now since we've been honest with one another. When you had no idea, though?"

His eyes stared past me as he thought of what I said, then they focused again, "Yeah. No, I understand. I guess I thought that I'd scared you off a little anyway."

"That last voice-mail you left said as much."

Finally, he smiled, "I thought I'd lost you."

I smiled, too, "No, you found me. And...I guess I found you."

"If you two don't stop being so damn cute, I'm going to cry - right here, right now."

We all laughed, Benji dabbing at his eyes from the floor.

"Sorry," I squeaked, "Really." I kissed the spot between his eyes, "I really am."

"Me, too," he whispered, "I put you through a lot of grief."

"Only for a little while. The last few hours don't compare to the years of happiness I've had being around you."

He leaned back, sitting up fully, grinning but being completely sincere, "Let's make that happiness last years longer, huh? I don't think I could live otherwise."

"Then I'm not going to lose you, too," I whispered, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

We kissed, falling into one another.

Then we couldn't help but laugh as Benji squealed and flopped down on his back, his paws clutched to his face, "GAAAHHHHH! TO MUCH ADORABLE! I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

From upstairs Lani's ragged voice bellowed, "SHUTTUP, PLEASE. TRYING TO SLEEP. THANK YOU."

We all fell to the floor in a fit, clutching our sides.