Title: Life, Love and Lesbians
Author: Lute
Email: snitchslashgoil87@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spot/Race (minor Snitch/Skittery, Bumlets/Swifty)
Status: Complete
Feedback: Sure
Archive: STN, Bask in the Sapphyness
Summary: "'Race, look at Snitch and tell me he's a lesbian.' I looked at Snitch and told Bumlets, 'He's a lesbian.'"
Disclaimer: Don't own the newsies or anyting really that's mentioned in this fic. Not even Wicked. I wish like woah I owned Wicked.

Snitch had news for me. I could tell from the way he was bouncing in his seat just before lunch, and how when the bell rang, he was up and out within three seconds. So, being the asshole I am, I took forever getting to the cafeteria and buying food, so Snitch was basically having a seizure by the time I got to the table.

"Okay, since Race has decided to grace us with his presence..." Spot drawled, "share your news, Snitch."

Snitch glanced at me, then shared his news: "I got a boyfriend, guys! And he's taking me to prom!"

"Really?" Swifty clapped his hands. "Who asked, and how?"

"Well, he goes to that private school across town, and works at Harkins on weekends, so I met him when we went to see Dawn of the Dead a few weeks ago... you remember, Swifty, the cute one that spilled your drink?"

Swifty grinned and nodded. "Because he liked talking to you about Hot Gimmick."

Snitch blushed. "Sure, whatever. But yeah, him, anyway, I kept going back to see him so he got to recognizing me, and we started calling each other on the phone and stuff, so..."

I tuned out at this point. I'm not interested in then romantic antics of my friends. Why? Because I'm not a romantic. At all. Seriously, if I'm interested in someone, I'll just ask them to go to Wendy's with me after school, and that's about as for as I've ever gotten with anyone, so I don't know where to go from there.

I don't even get crushes, really. I'm not like Snitch, fawning over Ewan McGregor, Tobey Maguire and the Suzaku Seishi. But I'm not like Swifty either: out since sixth grade, same boyfriend since seventh. And I'm not like Spot: lay a few guys every week while waiting for "that special someone." I'm just... not. So I space when they get to talking about romance.

"... and he'd even dyed his hair pink like Utena, and it was really cute, and..."

"Oh, Christ," I muttered. "Snitch has an otaku boyfriend. We are going to die."

Snitch pouted (and God, he's good at that). "Shut up, Race. It was cute."

"Wasn't Utena a girl? The lesbian?"

"Utena happens to be my favorite!"

"You lezzie. You're a disgrace to our culture."

"I am not a lezzie!"

"Okay, shut up!" Bumlets shouted, putting his comb away; he always fixed his hair at lunch while waiting for Swifty to finish eating so they could start macking again. "Race, look at Snitch, and tell me he's a lesbian."

I looked at Snitch and told Bumlets, "He's a lesbian."

Snitch grabbed his milk carton and held it above my head. "I swear to God, you say that again and..."

"You. Are. A. Lez. Be. An."

He dumped the milk over my head. Everyone cracked up, Spot the loudest, enough to make some of the more popular kids glance over at us with annoyance. "Go Snitch!" Spot crowed. "Rock hardcore!"

I scowled at all of them, then started to laugh myself.

I said I was an asshole. I never said I was a hardass.

~*~*~

Snitch ended up kidnapping me that weekend and driving me to Harkins to meet his cute boyfriend.

"I want all my friends to see and approve before prom," he gushed, even though I knew for sure he didn't give a shit what I thought; he'd take the guy anyway. He just wanted to see the guy again and didn't want to seem eager enough to show up alone.

"What's his name again?" I asked.

"It says Lucas on his name tag, but everyone calls him Skittery."

"Just like it says faggot on your name tag, but everyone calls you lesbo?"

"I will not hesitate to stop this car and leave you on the side of the interstate, Dominick Carrani. Do not tempt me."

"I don't want to be in the same car as a lesbian anyway."

Snitch sighed heavily and adjusted his cap. "I'm turning the radio on to drown you out," He said, switching the knob. I couldn't help but cackle when the speakers screamed: "They're not gonna get us! They're not gonna get us!"

"God is speaking to you, Snitch!" I cried. "He's saying: 'Admit your lesbianness, you homo!'"

"Fuck you, Race."

"Not likely."

He sighed again as we turned into the exit lane. "I can't believe I've put up with you for so long."

"Hey Snitch?"

"What?"

"Your animosity is showing."

We stopped at a red light and he pounded his head against the steering wheel. "Why did I bring you?" He asked, punctuating every work with a solid slam.

"You're gonna have a red mark on your forehead," I warned as he started to hit his head again. He realized I was right and tried too late to stop himself. He ended up only changing direction and smacked his chest against the horn, sounding a bright blat of annoyance across the street. He stared at the wheel for a moment, and I started to giggle at his stunned expression. Not long after, he started to giggle hard enough to forget to go when the light turned green. The car behind us honked angrily, and the giggles came harder as Snitch pressed his foot on the gas pedal and moved. We were so amused by the simplicity of the horn and the shock it brought that our gigglefit lasted right up to our entering the movie theater, with tickets to an unknown movie in our hands.

"Hey, Snitch. Who's your friend?"

The giggles stopped cold. Standing there in a black polo shirt and black slacks with a broom in hand was the single most gorgeous man I had ever seen.

Tall and lean. Wild brown hair. Dark, charming eyes. High cheekbones. Thin, smiling mouth. Long fingers.

Okay. My first love. Oh yes.

And then I snapped out of it when I realized my dream man was hugging Snitch.

"Hey, you," he was saying in a silky cream tenor. "Glad you came to visit."

"Hey, Skittery," Snitch replied, his face squashed against a well-built chest.

Oh crap. My first love... and he's dating Snitch.

No wonder I'm such an asshole; God hates me.

"Uh... ahem, 'scuze me," I said, looking pointedly at Snitch. "Intro, por favor?"

"Oh yeah." Snitch pulled out of my hottie's arms and smiled. "Skittery, this is my friend Race. Race, this is Skittery." He watched me hopefully.

I nodded, allowing a grin. "Hello, Skittery," I said, turning my Italian charm on full blast. "Snitch told me so much about you on the car ride over."

Snitch scowled at me, but Skittery laughed. "Well, Snitch told me about you too, and you certainly live up to the stories."

Oh. So Snitch had mentioned me. Now he was biased. Fuck.

"Well, you can't believe everything you hear, especially from this lying lezzie." Snitch's face flamed. "Oops! I don't think I was supposed to tell you he's a lesbian."

Skittery was laughing as Snitch glared pure death in my direction. I loved Skittery's laughter. Low and quiet, almost as if he was embarrassed by his amusement. How cute.

Oh shit. I think he's 'cute.' I am so gay.

Snitch looked at Skittery. "Okay, we gotta go catch our movie." He pouted slightly, and I reiterate, the kid is good at pouting, and God, he knew it. "Will you be working when we're done?"

"Actually, I get off in two hours."

"Great! Want to get dinner?"

"Love to. Oh..." He glanced at me. "What about Race?"

"I'll drop him off at home and we can meet at the restaurant." My face fell, but no one noticed. "Okay?"

"Okay." And then, oh my breaking heart, they kissed right there in the middle of the lobby. "I'll see you then."

"I'll text you about which restaurant!" Snitch called over his shoulder as we headed for our movie (and I still didn't know which one we were going to see).

Snitch glanced at me. "I wish you hadn't brought up the lesbian thing."

"'Scuze me for trying to break the ice with a joke."

"Was that what you were doing? Seemed more like you were trying to dis me."

"You know I don't mean that stuff. I tease you 'cause I like you."

"I know." Snitch blinked. "But back there? It sure felt like you meant it. Like you wanted to turn him off of me or something." He sighed. "But I'm just paranoid, I guess. I've never had a real boyfriend before, and I don't want to lose him. Besides," he grinned at me, trusting and childish, "you're not... spiteful like that. You cross the line sometimes, but you'd never cause trouble on purpose."

And suddenly I felt bad. I hadn't consciously been thinking about it, but I had been trying to turn Skittery off of Snitch. And Snitch here trusted me enough (or was stupid enough) not to believe what he had seen with his own two eyes.

God. I felt like a shit.

~*~*~

Snitch and I ended up watching the Ladykillers and discussing Tom Hanks's performance on the car ride home. Snitch also used me as his personal secretary, making me read every text message Skittery sent him, and type a reply back. I saw Skittery's cell number enough times while doing this that I had it memorized backwards and forwards by the time Snitch dropped me off at home. Not that I minded, of course.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," I told Snitch with a smirk as I got out of his car.

"You're an ass, Race."

"And you're a lesbian."

"Die, manslut." I shut the door and headed up the walk as Snitch sped out of my neighborhood to his date. He'd been teasing, but the word 'manslut' struck home. I wasn't really a manslut, not like Spot or anything, but I was close, wasn't I? Trying to steal my friend's boyfriend qualified as being close to a manslut, didn't it?

I needed to talk to someone. Badly.

I went inside, shouted to my mom that I was home, then grabbed the phone and dialed Swifty's cell. That thing was basically sewn to Swifty's hip, and he was the definitely the most even-headed friend I had.

But it was turned off. I sighed and hung up. That ruled Swifty out and Bumlets too; the only time that cell was ever off was when there was some rock and roll going on in Bumlets's room.

Well, fine. If they wanted to fuck each other silly while I suffered from unrequited love, then fine. Go ahead. I had other friends.

Who? Snitch?

Yeah. I'm gonna tell Snitch this. Sure.

Spot?

I sighed. Like Spot would care. But who else did I have?

I dialed the number.

To my surprise, a little girl picked up. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi, can I speak to Kyle?"

"Sure!" She giggled. "Hold on. I'll get him."

I waited a moment, then Spot's voice said, "Hey."

"Hey, Spot. You so desperate you not only gone hetero but pedophile?"

He chuckled slightly. "Race. You wish. That was my step-sister, Jenna."

"Ah. Sure. Whatever."

"What's up?"

"Uh..." I paused. This didn't seem like such a good idea at all anymore. "I, uh..."

"Oo! Racetrack has a crush!"

What. The. Fuck. "How the hell do you know that?!"

"Race, c'mon. You're seventeen and you've never had a boyfriend or even a real crush. It's about goddamn time."

"But how do you know?!"

"I just do. Now, who is it you have a crush on?"

"Why do you care?"

"I do. Now tell."

"It's no one you know. Kinda."

"Fuck, Race, who?!"

I hesitated. "... His name is Lucas, but everyone calls him Skittery."

"... You're right, I don't know him."

"He goes to the private school across town."

"Like Snitch's new guy?"

"He is Snitch's new guy."

Silence. I sighed. "Fuck you, Spot, you can't judge me."

"I'm not! Just tell me you ain't done anything with him and I won't!"

"I met him two hours ago!"

"Plenty of time."

"Fuck you, Spot."

"I'm playing. But Jesus, Race. Even I don't go after guys who are taken."

"I'm not going after him!" I went to the fridge to grab a soda; caffeine calms me down. "Well, not really."

"Race..."

"Spot, he's gorgeous! When you meet him, you'll think the same thing!"

"So? Snitch got there first."

"Bastard."

Spot laughed. "Race, you're not the lovesick type, so don't start trying it out."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Okay. Just making sure."

"I'll be weird, though."

"You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I think you should tell Snitch."

"Um, I'm not suicidal. He's pissed enough at me with the whole lesbian thing; he doesn't need to know I want his boyfriend."

"But it's better than keeping it secret. I'm not the most moral guy in the world, but I don't think you should keep secrets from your friends."

"You really don't have any secrets from us, Spot?"

"Nothing you guys haven't asked."

"No secret crushes? Guys you wish you could get?"

"Well... maybe one guy..."

"Who?"

"... You'll find out at prom."

"You're taking him to prom?"

"No. But I have plans. Don't worry." He coughed slightly. "But yeah. You oughta tell Snitch."

"Eehh..."

"Seriously, Race."

"He's gonna kill me."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He laughed. "We know better than those damn heteros that you can't help who you fall in love with."

I laughed too. "Well... all right. I'll talk to him on Monday."

"I'll make sure you do."

"That lesbian won't do a damn thing."

More laughter. "You got that lezzie whupped, dawg."

"Spot."

"What?"

"You are a blonde, blue-eyed anglo. Don't talk like that."

"Fine. Jeez. Just having fun. Oh, uh, Race? I gotta go. I'll talk to you Monday."

"All right."

"Bye."

"Arrivederci." I hung up the phone and thoughtfully drank my soda. So now I had to tell Snitch I wanted his boyfriend. Probably not smart; even lesbians have claws. But Spot would hold me to it, so there was no back out now.

Dammit. I need a new life.

~*~*~

"Snitch, I want to jump your boyfriend and screw him 'till he can't see straight."

Swifty stared at me and sighed. "Race, you're impossible. If you want to tell Snitch, then you gotta be serious about it, all right?"

"Fine!" I spat. I was already mad that Spot had told Swifty and Bumlets about my crush, and not just that, but Spot had also convinced them to 'prep' Snitch and me for our conversation.

What is this? Jesus Christ!

"Snitch, I like your boyfriend."

"You know Snitch, he wouldn't get it. We'd be there all day."

"Snitch, I want your boyfriend."

"I don't like it."

"Screw you. It's the only one that would really work."

"It's kinda vulgar."

"They're all vulgar. There is no not vulgar way for me to say this."

"Oh, yes there-"

"Swifty. This is me."

He stared, then nodded. "Good point. Go get 'em, then."

I sighed and entered the cafeteria. Standing down in the line, talking to Bumlets and Spot, was Snitch. I held my breath and started my last mild. Snitch actually looked up and smiled curiously as I approached. Bumlets and Spot, the cowards that they are, ditched as soon as I showed up. I scowled after them.

"What's up?" Snitch asked. He was bouncing with curiosity.

"What did they tell you?"

"You got something to tell me. What?"

"Snitch..."

"Yes?"

"I want your boyfriend."

His head jerked backwards in surprise. "What?!"

"I. Want. Your. Boyfriend. In the 'Lets-screw-all-night-long' kind of way."

He stared. "Stop joking, asshole."

I sighed. "Not joking."

"But... Race..."

"I won't go after him."

"You better not."

"I won't. I'm not like that." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked Snitch in the eye. "But Skittery? Yeah. He's gorgeous."

"Yeah." Snitch frowned. "And he's mine."

I leaned against the wall and stared at my red Converse shoes. "Maybe if I had a date for prom, I wouldn't be after yours so hard."

Something in Snitch's face flickered. "I... wouldn't worry about that."

"You wouldn't?" I glanced up at Snitch, studying him. "Why not?"

"Well, you're good-looking. Someone'll want you."

"No one has wanted me for seventeen years. And since when am I good-looking?"

"Race, girls want you. They just know you're gay so they don't go after you."

"How do you know that?"

"They ask me all the time. 'Who's that cute Italian you hang out with?' 'That hottie with the dark hair. Who is he?'" Snitch held up his hands, grinning slightly. "I always feel guilty when I have to tell them 'His name is Race, and he's gay. Sorry!'"

I couldn't help grinning myself. "Yeah, but girls are different from boys."

"No fucking kidding."

"Yeah, man." I paused. "Do you think I'm hot?"

He glanced at me and grabbed a sandwich as we reached the front of the line. "What kind of question is that? You so horny you gave up on Skittery and coming after me now?"

"You wish. Seriously, do you?"

He thought for a minute, filling a Styrofoam cup with Sprite. "You're cute, Race. You're not my type, but you're cute."

"What is your type?" I asked, feeling a little dejected.

He gave the cashier a five and grinned at me. "Tall."

I scowled for a minute, then started to laugh. "Ouch. Harsh. Too bad. Tall women are rare, lezzie."

"I am not a lesbian!"

~*~*~

I arrived at school the next day and to my surprise, people were watching me and giggling, pointing, whispering as I passed. I frowned at a pair of freshmen girls who squealed as I turned to corner to my locker... but then I stopped.

My locker, halfway down the hall, had two large, heart-shaped balloons tied to it. It had also been decorated with pink silly string, and when I opened it, a yellow envelope slid out and onto the floor. Inside, written in a chicken-scratch man-type hand, was a note saying:

"I'm sorry you like someone you can't have. What's good is you're the someone I couldn't have. And now I can."

Stupidly, I looked up and around, checking for some unknown admirer who had undoubtedly gotten away by now. Sighing, I glanced back at the note.

Snitch had set this up. There was absolutely no doubt about that. But it wasn't Snitch's handwriting. So who had he gotten to do it?

"Holy crap, Race!" My head jerked up as Bumlets grabbed my shoulder. "What's all this?"

"Are you involved?" I asked him suspiciously. His eyes widened.

"What? No. This isn't my kind of work. It's more like something Snitch would do."

"But why would Snitch do this for me?"

"I dunno. Maybe he feels bad about Skittery." Bumlets shrugged. "I don't know a thing. Swifty might."

"Swifty's got that choir thing today; he's not here."

Bumlets groaned. "Thanks for reminding me I'm without my other half today."

I grinned. "Not a problem."

"What're you gonna do with all this stuff?"

I grabbed my books and shut my locker door. "Leave it here. I'll pick it up after school."

"Will it still be here?"

I paused. "Well... I hope so."

~*~*~

After school, I went first to my locker to get my gifts, and then out to the parking lot to put them in my car and drive home.

"Oh holy God..." I muttered upon seeing my Miata coated in streamers and more pink silly string. "I knew I should've gotten a frickin' alarm!"

Okay, it was cute at my locker. But you don't touch my Miata.

"Hey! Race!"

I turned, and Spot was jogging up to me, grinning at my car. "Who the hell did this?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" I sighed. "Secret admirer or not, nobody touches my car."

Spot laughed. "If I help you clean this up, can I have a ride home?"

"That'd actually be cool of you." He smiled and went to the other side of the car, pulling streamers off and tossing them into a garbage can on the median. I followed his lead, and when our fingers brushed while gathering streamers off the top of my car, I noticed.

I very much noticed.

"Uh, Race?" He said while cleaning my rear window with his jacket. "Did you see this?"

"See what?" I went to stand next to him. Pinned under the windshield wiper was another yellow envelope. I grabbed it and opened it, reading the note aloud:

"I know you love your car, so I knew you'd see this. You'd have to clean it before leaving, huh? That's so cute. It's so you."

I stared at the card. "Cute?" I asked Spot. "Did Snitch send this?"

"What makes you think it's Snitch?"

"He told me I was cute."

"Snitch has a boyfriend."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Guess you're right."

"Do you want it to be Snitch?"

I glanced at him. "I want it to be Snitch's boyfriend. But it's not. I don't know who it is."

Spot grinned. "What if it's a girl?"

I showed him the card. "This is not a girl's handwriting, Spot. Duh."

He shrugged and picked off a line of silly string. "Oh well." He flung the string into the parking lot. "Can we go now?"

I gave my car a once-over and nodded. "Yeah. Let's cut."

~*~*~

Snitch caught up with me after third hour the next day, and walked with me to our next class. He was very bouncy, excited, twitching and grinning.

"What's up with you?" I asked him finally. "You get laid last night or what?"

He frowned at me. "Who am I? Spot?" He hesitated, then giggled and started bouncing again.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, then, what's up?"

"You'll see."

We turned the corner to our classroom and I stopped in the middle of the hallway. Snitch hid his mouth behind his hand and giggled madly as I gaped.

The entire arc of hallway was decorated with streamers, balloons and banners. The colors had changed from pink and red to blue and green, and hanging in the very center of the hallway, tied to a streamer, was another yellow envelope.

I stormed forward and grabbed it, opened it. The note was shorter this time, and accompanied by a ticket to prom.

As Snitch sidled up next to me, I read the note: "Use this. I'll see you there, and bring you a rose the color of this envelope.'" I looked up at Snitch. "When is prom?"

"This Saturday."

"Holy Jesus. Thank God I have that tux from my sister's wedding in December."

Snitch's face lit up. "So you're going?"

I shrugged. "Why not? He got me a ticket. And I know you know who he is, but you won't tell me."

He grinned. "Nope. Not a word from me."

I smirked. "Then I'm going."

Snitch squealed with delight and hugged me.

He is such a girl. No wonder I call him lesbian.

~*~*~

The night of prom, I ended up in a group with Snitch, Skittery, Swifty, Bumlets, and another pair of fags that Swifty hung out with, Specs and Dutchy. I felt not just lonely (being the only single guy there) and uncomfortable (they were all making out in the back of the limo on the drive over, and I hate wearing tuxedos anyway), but also very jealous. Snitch knew I liked Skittery; he didn't need to shove in my face that Skittery was his and not mine.

But oh well. Watching them cuddle in the back seat, I thought that maybe it wasn't love I had for Skittery after all. Just lust. I mean, he was hot, but the only tug I'd felt was in my jeans, not my heart.

But he was still hot.

We arrived at the dance hall, and I was the first one out of the car. Even though I hate tuxedos, I felt good. Like I was the best looking guy on the planet in my black tux with the red rose blossom in the chest pocket.

I also felt like I should be carrying a machine gun in a violin case.

But that's cool 'cause I'm Italian.

I waited for the others to get out of the car, and we all entered the building together. Prom was being held in a ballroom way in the back, so we walked in a group, but weren't really a group; we were three couples and one single boy.

Again, I felt lonely.

The ballroom was dark, lit with white and gold Christmas lights strung on the ceiling and wrapped around potted trees. The deejay had the stage for that first hour, blasting Outkast's 'Hey Yah.' Swifty and Bumlets, both dancers, headed straight for the floor, clinging to each other's hands. Specs and Dutchy went to check out the refreshments. Snitch and Skittery stayed with me for a while before taking off for a private moment. And I was left alone in the dark.

I sat down on a nearby branch and tried to make it look like I was just waiting for my date to come back from the bathroom or something. But I knew that wouldn't work forever.

Where was my date, anyway? I had one. Where was he? With his yellow rose?

The song tapered off, and someone sat down next to me. I looked up and saw Spot.

"Hey!" I said, grinning. "I didn't know you were coming!"

Spot shrugged. "I had a ticket, so why not?"

"Have a date?"

He paused and glanced upwards at the stage. I followed his gaze and saw Bumlets up there with the deejay, arguing fervently, holding a CD. The deejay grabbed it and shoved it into his player. Despite the angry look on his face, he still sounded calm and cool when he spoke: "Okay, our next song is a special request, dedicated to..." he paused, consulting Bumlets. "To Dominick 'Race' Carrani. From: You'll Know Who!"

I snorted. "I will? Fine. Where is he, then?"

Spot smiled.

I narrowed my eyes and started to ask him what he knew, but words left me when I heard the song start. Now, I tease Snitch because of his obsession with anime, because he squeals like a girl when he's excited, because he bounces on his toes all the time, and it's okay for me to do this because I don't act like him.

Except when it comes to one thing: Wicked.

My head jerked to the stage, gawking. "Holy crap!" I gushed. "'As Long As You're Mine!' I love this song!"

"Is it your favorite?" Spot asked.

"No, my favorite is 'What is this Feeling?' This is second favorite." I started to laugh, delighted. "Who is this guy?!"

Suddenly, a yellow rose dangled in front of my face. I blinked at it for a minute, then followed the line of hand, arm and shoulder to see it connected to Spot's body. I stared in disbelief, and he grinned sheepishly.

"You know my secret crush? I told you you'd find out who he was at prom?" He shrugged, still smiling. "Hi, Secret Crush."

I stared at him, taking the rose and twirling it in my fingers. "This is so... not you."

He shrugged again. "I told Snitch I liked you and wanted to go to prom with you. The rest was his idea."

I smiled. "That lesbian. He's such a romantic."

He smiled back, but said nothing. I noticed our hips were touching, and, unconsciously, a flush filled my cheeks. But I didn't move. Spot's hand fell over my knee, and that was okay too, I decided while toying with my rose. I'd never looked at him this way before, as if he were more than just my friend, and in a short glance at his smirking profile, I decided he was better looking than Skittery, and it was a better deal with Spot because I already knew how cool he was.

He looked at me, and I stuck the rose between my teeth, grinning. He laughed and squeezed my leg.

"Wanna dance?"

I thought it over for a moment, listening to Fiyero muse about falling under Elphaba's spell. I knew that Snitch would kill me if I didn't dance to my song, so I stood up, taking the rose out of my mouth and returning to twirling it in my hand.

"Sure."

Spot got to his feet and took my hand, leading me to the floor and putting his hands on my waist. Feeling silly, I placed the rose behind my ear, and clasped my hands behind his neck.

"You look so gay," Spot commented, but his eyes were fond. I grinned.

"I'm the lesbian now," I told him. He laughed and put his forehead against mine.

"I certainly hope not."

END