The following Friday, Ben and I had made plans to spend a quiet evening at Gra--- I mean, my house, eat pizza, and as he put it, "Break in that amazing DVD player of yours."  In typical date fashion, I expected there to be a conflict in movie selection once he suggested a trip to the video store.  I can't remember ever once agreeing on what to rent when I was with Eric.  Eventually we became the couple that would forgo the couch cuddling movie nights.  If there were a movie the other wanted to see, that person would end up watching it by themselves.  At the time I chalked it up to a mere difference in tastes, but the more I looked back upon our years together, I became more and more frustrated for waiting for the ax fall without dropping it myself.

            However, Ben's perfection stemmed into the world of film selection and compromise.  The deal was that one of us would be the sole selector of the movie, while the other would have complete control over pizza toppings.  It was a tough choice, but my love for peppers and pineapple on pizza was too strong to relinquish.  Also, I figured that if he picked something particularly hideous for our viewing pleasure, I could always retaliate with something in the anchovy family.  Of course I knew that whatever he picked would miraculously be the most wonderful film ever watched, his talents knowing no bounds.

            The issue of Ben's never faltering abilities were weighing somewhat heavily on me.  I was most certainly not a person without faults.  In fact, in most instances I could be guaranteed to make the wrong choice, or to say the wrong thing.  When driving, if my instinct is to go left, that is a clear cut sign to turn right.  My past relationships alone were a complete lesson in poor management.  Comparably speaking, the wonder that was Ben Stevens was an awful lot to live up to, not that I felt that he expected me to, but surely after some time, my knack for walking through life on two left feet would lose its amusing quality.  Eventually, he would find something, or simply tire of my antics, and while common sense told me to avoid the impending doom by fleeing wildly in the other direction, I can't deny that unbridled selfishness kept me going on my path of self mutilation.  I mean, soul crushing embarrassment or no, this way, I at least got to spend time with him. 

            I was beginning to feel that I was mooching off of him, allowing him to chauffeur me around thus far, and even though I didn't have a say in his paying for meals, I still was feeling a twinge of guilt, so when the time came to venture out for our date night supplies, I insisted on driving.  Once we were in the car, I immediately regretted this.  The inside of my at least a decade old car was nothing like the luxury ride he was accustomed to, and I was rather embarrassed. 

            Now the proud owner of of nearly a quarter of a million dollars after my meeting with Mr. Vaughn, it popped into my head that updating my ride might be on my list of to do's.  Although that might mean that I would have to actually cash the damn check.  I took it with me, somewhat speechless, equally dumbfounded by the prospect of inheriting such a large amount from a woman I had no clue had anywhere near what she left me, but also from the simple presence of Martin Vaughn.  There was something so unfathomably comforting, just being near him.  Very hard to explain, but I imagine that visiting the Dali Lama or similar would have the same effect.  In fact, Mr. Lama might take some pointers from Martin, but that is fairly subjective I would imagine.

            If Ben minded riding in my little puttering compact, he never showed it, not that I might have noticed.  I was so paranoid about my driving all of a sudden.  As operating a vehicle went, my record was spotless, save for a speeding ticket five years ago, but with my luck, I was certain I would hit a speed trap and get nailed for going a single mile over the limit, or that a suicidal squirrel would chose my car to end his tormented rodent life.  With all the other insanity I had laid at the feet of Ben, I was determined to make it through one night in one piece, and with at least a hint of dignity.

            My chances for this either increased exponentially, or decreased hilariously, depending on how one chooses to look at it, when we ran into Callie at the video store.  A picture of ethereal spunkiness, clad in a black and blue plaid pleated mini skirt, knee high motorcycle boots, and a baby blue t-shirt donning the characters of Snap, Crackle, and Pop from the old school Rice Krispie commercials.  What I was not prepared for was the man she had with her. 

            I had heard her mention several times during our outings together, a fellow named Nate.  She spoke of him casually, as if I somehow knew him, and super cool friend that I was being, I never even stopped to think about it.  If I'd managed to pull my head out of my ass for a second, perhaps choosing not to fret over things like date outfits, or Allison Rodgers, then maybe I would have put together that this Nate, was Callie's boyfriend.  It was a very pleasant moment when she introduced us as I stood racking my brain trying to put two and two together, before I gave an over enthusiastic "Of course!" as I shook his hand a bit too excitedly.

            Nathan Sanders was most certainly not someone I knew.  He was maybe a few years our senior and looked more like a surfer than someone I would have spotted in Biddleton.  He was very tall, he even had a few inches on Ben, which was made all the more obvious as he stood next to the tiny little Callie who stood well over a foot beneath him, and surprisingly buff.  His dark blond hair was neatly trimmed, and simply styled, and he was dressed very casually in a t-shirt and jeans.  He seemed so clean cut, and it was an interesting difference when looking at the two of them together.  The thing that struck me the most was how comfortable they seemed together, so completely at ease. 

            I am still not clear on how this happened, it all went down so quickly, but after realizing that we were both organizing our Friday night movie date nights, Callie suggested we double up sometime, to which Ben offered to do so that night.  I became a little too giddy at the thought of all of us hanging out, I loved who I was around Callie, I felt more like myself than I had in so long, and deeply hoped that that comfort would translate with Ben there.  A chance for him to see the real me, and on a date no less.  The one caveat was knowing how both she and Ben seemed to gain eternal enjoyment at seeing me blush, and their awareness at how easy it was to do didn't help matters.           Now, with our twosome instantly a foursome, the quest to pick a proper film became a bit of a conundrum again.  Turned out that Callie and Nate liked to curl up with cheesy horror films now and then, and that was their menu for the evening.  Ben, ever the peacemaker, suggested that we pick several selections, and I silently thanked him when he picked out a romantic comedy and an action movie.  My tolerance for scary movies has always been rather low.  Real life is scary enough. 

            We agreed to meet back at my house, and yet somehow in the five minute drive from the store, Callie and Nate disappeared.  We went inside, and while Ben tinkered with the DVD player to get it going, I wished to myself that I had spent more time cleaning, or at least moving boxes around.  Eventually, I was going to have to do something to make the home look slightly less nomadic.  A short time later, we heard them pull up, and I opened the door to see the two of them, arms completely loaded with various things.  Several bottles of wine, and oddly, an impressive collection of board games.  Callie responded to my quizzical look by simply saying, "Hey, it's date night!"

            Everything fell into a very comfortable place quickly, the wine was uncorked, scary movie playing in the background, pizzas ordered, although now with the added people I decided to be fair and get an extra pizza, sans fruit and peppers.  It was wonderful.  Conversation was easy, Ben moved along as if he had been lifelong friends with Callie and Nate, and I found that it being me was in fact easier than I thought.  I wondered if Callie would have a problem tagging along on all my dates with Ben?

            While we waited for dinner to arrive, I learned that Nate was a thirty year old radio deejay that lived in St. Louis.  They met two years ago while he was manning a booth hosted by his station at some function on Callie's campus.  Currently, his show ran from the uncovetable hours of two in the morning until five, or as he put it, "Right before the guys that people actually listen to." come on the air.  He was extremely witty, his gift for banter not lost, even on the likes of me.  They looked to be an odd pair, him very casual and clean cut, her a little firecracker mixture of punk and fairies, but they went together so well, their affection for each other was so open, with a stolen kiss here, or a thoughtful glance there.  It was so fascinating to watch, and made me feel even worse that I had neglected to give her relationship any sort of inquiry when we had been together before.  I would have to make this up to her.

            With the boys bonding over technical things that I couldn't keep up with, something about benefits of an LCD television over plasma for the ultimate high definition experience, I snuck off to the kitchen to dig out plates for the arrival of food, and Callie quickly followed.

            "Hey, we didn't mess up your date did we?" she whispered in the confines of the kitchen.  "'Cause we can leave if you want, I can make something up!"

            "No way!" I hissed, "I can actually relax with you here!  Don't you dare leave!"

            She laughed and hopped up to sit on the counter by the stove.  "So why can't you relax?" she spoke softly to avoid detection.  "I thought you and Ben had gone out a few times?"

            "We have," I sighed.  "I don't know.  Nothing ever seems to go right when I am with him.  I am so damn spastic.  I am sure he only keeps asking me out so that he can see the bloopers first hand."

            "Oh, whatever," she snorted.  "That is not a man in search of pratfalls!  He is so very in to you."  I rolled my eyes, and dug through the cabinets looking for chips.  "Okay, seriously, what makes you think that?  It is lost on me whatever it is.  All I see is a smitten guy!"

            "Every thing just goes wrong," I muttered.  "I am like this completely disheveled mess in front of him, and all the little hideous things that the person you are dating shouldn't see until long after your golden anniversary just keep happening right in front of him."

'           "Has he kissed you yet?" she asked quietly.

            "No," I shook my head.  "It seems like he is about to, but then..."

            "Then what?"

            "I don't know," I sighed.  "It's like he comes to his senses or something.  He'll kiss my cheek or forehead or something, but never a real kiss.  See?" I tossed a bag of pretzels on the counter and leaned against the fridge, feeling somewhat defeated at my own explanation.  "I think maybe he just wants to be friends or something.  If that."

            I stared into space and lost myself in a little daze thinking about what I had just spoken.  All too true that I was in over my head.   I was getting sucked into my own little pessimistic spiral when I felt something bounce off my head before it landed at my feet.  I looked down and saw one of the pretzels.

            "Stop that right now!" Callie smiled, pretzel bag in hand.  "That is my friend you are talking about and I won't let you talk smack about her."  I had to laugh at her mock tough girl look.  "I am telling you, Ben is interested in you, Max.  I can see it, pretty much anyone that sees the two of you could see it.  If you stopped being so hard on yourself for two seconds, I promise you will see it too."

            She smiled at me, watching as her words of wisdom sank in a bit until the doorbell rang.

            "I got it!" she trilled and flew off the counter, her boots making a loud clunking sound when they hit the linoleum.  "Pizza!" she called to the boys and did a twirl just before she opened the door, and I grabbed the plates I had just set out and walked them over to the table.

            "Who the hell are you?"

            The sound of the voice speaking those words made my blood run cold.  My breath caught in my throat and I instantly felt like I might throw up.  The plates slipped out of my hands and crashed loudly onto the table top, breaking the one on the bottom of the stack. 

            There was no way, it wasn't possible.  A scream filled the room, and while I assumed it came from a woman being chased by some maniacal killer on the television, I couldn't be certain that it hadn't come from me.

            "Um," Callie stammered and backed away from the door.  "Can I help you?"

            Nate and Ben were up in an instant, moving right beside Callie as she backed further into the living room, her eyes never leaving the now terror filled entry way.

            "Where is she?" the voice snapped, making me jump.

            I had to force myself to breathe, and the oxygen wasn't reaching very far.  I thought about bolting, just running out the back door and hiding in the woods until this was over, but I knew I wouldn't make it far before I was taken down.  Every part of me was shaking so hard that it was beginning to hurt.

            "Mom?" I squeaked, my voice perfectly conveying my fear.

            I didn't dare look over, but I could feel the eyes of my friends all turn on me as their heads whipped around.  I clenched my fists over and over, trying to force the feeling back into them and slowly made my way towards my mother, standing in the doorway with a man I didn't recognize, but was nevertheless petrified of.  He was huge.  Not so much in height, he was under six feet, but his lack of inches was made up for with his burliness.  He was big, scary looking.  My brain raced to remember him, and I could only assume that this was the man I had heard of nearly a year or so ago, Bruce, I think his name was, a trucker with a short fuse, and who very well could have been my step father for all I knew, making him husband number five for my mother.

            "Mom, what are you doing?" My voice was frail and unimpressive, and I could feel what little of my soul was left abandoning ship before it was mortally wounded with shame.

            "Where is it?"  she barked.  She was visibly enraged, but had her usual smug look to her.  She came for a fight, and she clearly came to win.  I remembered her stance all too well from my childhood.  I felt myself regressing to the eight year old version of myself, scared, humiliated, wondering what seemingly unforgivable thing I had done, and was about to be unyieldingly punished for.

            "Where is what, mom?"

            My obvious cluelessness mattered not to her, she was on a mission.  If I'd had any clue what was going on, believe me that I would have done anything in my power to get whatever it was she was wanting and get her out as soon as humanly possible.

            "The money, Mackenzie,” She stepped further into the house, Bruce right along with her.  "I want that money."

            "What?"  I stared at her.  It was all I could do.  There was no way this was happening.  Was my mother seriously there to shake me down to take Gram's money? 

            "Don't you lie to me!" she screamed.  There was no in between, it went right to top volume, and it made all four of us jump.  This was a patented move of my mother's, and it never ceased to scare the living shit right out of me.  "My lawyer told me that piece of trash Martin Vaughn gave it to you this week!  You stole that from us, and I want it back.  Now!"

            "You, you..." I stammered.  "You want me to give you Gram's money?"

            "That is our money and you damn well know that you don't deserve it!"  She took another step closer as she spoke and I flinched.  I don't know if I expected her to slap me, even as an adult, but memories of burning cheeks from decades before had made an indelible mark.

            I didn't know what to do.  I could feel all the eyes in the room resting on me.  I wanted to cry, I felt the tears fighting their way up, but even they had the good sense to stay hidden.  Bruce folded his arms across his chest, solidifying the threat on his end, my mother's glare steadfast, not wavering in the slightest.

            "I don't think I can give it to you," my cowards voice quiet and shaking.  "It's written out to me, I don't think they will let you cash it."

            "Fine, then you give me the check and tomorrow I will take you to the bank and you can sign it over," she ordered.

            I blinked hard at her, but knew I had lost before she had even pulled into the driveway.  I stared for one second more before heading into the across the dining area to Gram's desk, and pulled the check out of the top drawer, where I had placed it, not knowing what to do with it even if I had cashed it.

            "Wait a minute!" Callie yelled.  Her little voice was surprisingly powerful, and especially with the silence surrounding my walk of shame, it had  extra gravity to it.  "There is no way you are giving her anything!"

            "Excuse me?" seethed my mother.  If I hadn't been panicking already, that would have done the trick.

            "I said she is not giving you anything!"  Callie reaffirmed.  Oh the poor girl, I would miss her after my mother and her beefy friend murdered her with their bitter words and icy glares.

            "This is not your business," Bruce's gravelly voice piped in.   It was just as menacing as his appearance suggested.

            "Who do you think you are?" Mom growled.

            "I am Max's friend," Callie bit right back.  "Who the hell do you think you are?"

            "Oh, I see," My mother’s voice took on her ever effective tone of condescension and mockery.  "Now that you have a little money, you were able to buy yourself a few little friends."  My chest was ripping apart.  "Well, let me tell you, once that money is gone, you will be too.  Behind that check, she is still the same nothing she has always been."

            "That is enough!"  I had never heard this voice before.  It was ferocious, and yet underneath the threatening nature, there was s hint of satin.  My head yanked around so hard I thought I might have injured myself.

            Ben Stevens took his place, moving in front of Callie, who, even with her diminutive frame wasn't about to back down and maneuvered beside him.  I had never heard or seen Ben a fraction above composed, never so much as perturbed, but there he stood, his perfect features molded into a mask of anger.  It was the most shocking part of the whole fiasco.

            "You do not talk to her like that," he warned.  "You need to leave immediately."

            My eyes were bugging out of my head, my mouth popped open with an audible sound.  There was no way this was occurring, I had to have fallen and hit my head, or maybe I was having a stroke. 

            "Do you really think I give a shit what a spoiled little football player and a whore bartender says?" Mom's smirk widened.  "I am not leaving without that check."

            "That is enough," Nate said, a chuckle escaping as he moved towards the two by the door.  Ben quickly put his arm out across Nate's chest, blocking him.  Bruce countered, moving forward enough that I felt my blood pressure drop violently.  I could only focus on trying to stay conscious.

            "You don't get to talk to my friends like that," a shaky voice asserted.  "You don't even know them."

            No one was more shocked than I to discover that those words were leaving my mouth.

            "Oh, honey," the arrogance returned.  "You don't have any friends.  All you have are fiancés that dump you to trade up, and people who pretend to put up with you."  With a smug tilt of her head, she added, "Now give me the check so you can stop humiliating yourself in front of these people."

            I held the offensive piece of paper in my hand and looked at it.  A quarter of a million dollars, written out to me.  Did I care about the money aspect?  No.  I had no plans for it, it wouldn't hurt me to lose it, I would just be where I was before, but without my mother's malevolence burning down on me.  Giving her the money wouldn't please her.  She would just come back for the rest.  She and Bruce would blow through it in a matter of months, I could guarantee.  My hand began to reach out towards her, but I caught a glimpse of Gram's pink hat by the door.  That unnaturally colored hat. 

            Mom couldn't pull this on Grams.  She was the one person impervious to my mother's aggressive presence and manipulations.  That is part of why my mom hated her so much, Grams could see right through her, knew what she really was.  The sad thing was that, so did I.  I saw everything just as Grams had seen it, the thinly veiled cloak of being a bully masking a woman with nothing, all by her own doing.  For years I had served as the bulls-eye for many of her insecurities, brandished as punishments and insults directed towards me.  Maybe some of what she'd said about me was right, maybe all of it was.  Maybe I was nothing, maybe I had no one.

            But I did have someone before, and I knew that if I moved my arm one inch further towards my mother with that check, that person would put on her wings and pink hat and fly down to Earth to kick my spineless ass. 

            I may have had no clue of how I was going to spend that money, but at the moment, I knew what I was going to do with it.  For the first time in my mother's and my relationship, I was going to win.

            "Get out."

            I saw her demeanor crack for just a second, but it gave me enough to know that I was going for it.

            "You don't get to tell me to get out," she snarled. 

            "No, I really do," I exhaled, rolling my neck around, my whole body loosening up, air coming freer.  "I am not giving you this money.  She didn't want you to have it, so I am not giving it to you."

            "You show your mother some respect!" Bruce boomed, shaking the floor as he stomped forward.

            He didn't get far.  Ben and Nate followed his movements, until they were a few feet apart.  While ol' Bruce certainly had them beat in the heft department, there was no arguing that their height, builds and considerably fewer years than Bruce carried were intimidating.  They stood, at a complete standstill of locked jaws, death stares, and testosterone.  Bruce, who was rightfully a scary bastard only a few moments before, now showed a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.  Had it just been me here, they would have had me pinned in minutes, turning over the check, and my 401k within seconds, but not today.  Not like this.

            "If I recall, I don't have a mother," I reminded her.  "So I was told anyway."  I had never experienced what people described as eerily calm before, but this had to be the general idea.  "Get out."

            Our eyes were locked, my mother and I, the men in a challenging standoff, Callie somewhat blocked by Nate and Ben seemed disappointed to not be in the thick of things. 

            Behind my visitors appeared a young boy, perhaps seventeen, armed with several pizza boxes and look of alarm on his face.  He had come to deliver food, but walked in on what looked like a mob hit gone awry.  He stood in the door frame, taking in all the murderous looks, the palpable tension, and for a moment, I could tell he was about to drop the boxes and run like hell. 

            "Um," he cleared his throat nervously.  "Mackenzie Parker?"

            "Yeah," I smiled, not once breaking the gaze I held with my mom.  "This is my house."

            No one moved still.  The pizza boy began to breathe heavily and I hope he wasn't asthmatic.  A collapsing teen covered in pizza was not the thing to cap off this night.  \

            My mom, never one to lose graciously, attempted to scoop together a shred or two of dignity, much as she had when she left Gram's wake.  Before it had been hurtful, watching my only family disowning me as they walked away. 

            This time?  This time it was satisfying.

            "You will be hearing from my attorney," she threatened.  She worked hard to keep her words measured and controlled, but the cracks were noticeable.

            "I look forward to it," I smiled politely.  "Have a safe drive home!" I called after them as they slowly made their way back out the front door.

            My eyes followed after them until they were in their car, and even until they pulled away.  No one around me moved a single inch, said a word, maybe not even breathed.  I was proud of myself, and I could feel Grams around me, and knew she would have been too, but my pride was short lived. 

            If anything is going to kill a new relationship or budding friendships, it is going to be stand offs with fifty-five year old women and their sixty year old, scary ass male companions.  If I had thought before that everything that could have gone wrong in front of Ben had, I surely found the cherry for that cake of disaster.  Combined with the reality sinking in of standing up to the woman who had terrified me with her control my entire life, and I could feel the seams ripping apart.

            I turned quickly and made my way into the purple room, shutting the door behind me.  There was no way to face what had been left out there.  I put my back to the wall and sank to the floor, legs curled up underneath my chin as I lost the fight with my bodies need to hyperventilate, and the tears that had been held at bay thus far. 

            It had been one thing to live these moments out as a teenager, and I knew Ben and Callie had both been privy to similar, but slightly less horrifying displays back in my youth.  I remember seeing Ben in the parking lot the day that I had forgotten a science book and had to run back into the school to retrieve it, and come out to find that my mom and sister had left me there, only finding out later that this had been a lesson in responsibility and that I needed to learn respect for their time.  Why should they have to wait in the car while I corrected my mistakes, they'd said.  I had just walked on, pretending that I had meant to walk home anyway, never meeting anyone’s gaze, even though they all knew.

            I wondered how long I could stay in there before they all headed home.  I listened carefully to try and hear their cars pulling away, but the only noise I heard was the sound of the door to the purple room opening.

            "Max?"  Callie called softly into the dark room.  I looked over and saw Ben standing beside her.

            "Hey guys," I tried to chuckle to cover my sniffling.  "Man, do I know how to throw a party or what?"

            "Are you alright?" Ben asked making his way over to my spot on the floor.

            "I'll be fine," I tried to push the tears back and straighten up as best I could.  "You guys can take off.  I really am sorry about all that."

            "Yeah, no," Callie smiled and plopped down on the floor beside me, wrapping her arm around my neck.  "Not gonna happen."

            "Really, I am okay," I frowned, not wanting to keep them there because of some ill conceived need to repair my well being.  "You have done so much for me tonight already, honestly, you can go home.  If I were you I would be racing for the door." I tried to laugh, but another tear escaped.

            Ben walked slowly over and sat on the other side of the floor beside me.  The feeling of them both around me was starting to choke me.  I didn't want to do this in front of them, in front of him again.

            " You don't look okay," Ben spoke gently, leaning into me a bit.  "That was a big deal, you don't have to be fine after that.  No one expects you too."

            "Do you know what?" I tried to come off as casually as I could, but my voice was breaking, and the tears kept falling.  "My whole life she has done that, been like that.  But this, this was the first time anyone ever stood up for me to her?"

            "I am so sorry that you grew up with that," he whispered, pulling my head into his shoulder, Callie's arm still wrapped firmly around my shoulder.  "You deserved better than that."

            That just made me cry harder. 

            We all sat there for some time, wrapped in a twisted version of a Mackenzie sandwich.  I worked to get the tears to stop, and to calm as much as possible.  I hadn't wanted them to stay, to feel as if they owed me something for what they had witnessed, but I didn't really care anymore.  I was happy to have them, silently surrounding me, just being there.  It was not a feeling I had ever known, but a girl could get used to it.

            Eventually, the door cracked once more and Nate's head appeared.

            "Hey, I just wanted to say that I paid the kid for the pizza, and um, I locked the doors and set up a couple of rabid guard dogs."  His face was completely serious,"Ya know, just in case."

            I burst out laughing. 

            "Who needs a guard dog?" Ben wondered, "I thought Callie was going to mangle that guy!"

            "I could have totally taken him," she announced, completely sure of herself!

            "Yeah, sweetie, could you do me a favor and not challenge anyone that is too much bigger than I am?" Nate mock pleaded.  ""Cause if Ben wasn't there, that guy so would have kicked my ass.  And I mean hard."  We all cracked up together.  "No seriously man, thanks for holding me back.  I would have pissed myself if I had actually gotten to him.  Fetal position on the floor, begging him not to break my face, for real."

            "Aww, honey," Callie cooed and hopped up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him for a kiss.  "I thought you were very brave."

            "So what do you say we get this night going again?" Ben smiled, smoothly getting to his feet, and holding his hand out to me. 

            "No, really, you don't have to stay," I persisted.  "I think that might have been enough excitement for you all tonight."

            "Are you kidding," Nate deadpanned. "I am in it for the pizza!"

            I snickered, and took Ben's hand, climbing slowly to my feet.

            "Um," I murmured, "Listen.  Thank you all, for what you did." I stared sheepishly at the floor.  "You didn't have to do that, but it meant a lot to me and I really appreciate it."

            We were all silent for a beat.  Ben pulled me into his chest and lightly kissed my hair.  Why he was still there, I couldn't figure out, let alone holding onto me the way he was, but I wouldn't have let go for anything.

            "Okay, so let’s get to it," Nate interrupted the moment.  "But, um, would it be unmanly of me to ask that we turn off the slasher movies and give that girly movie a shot?"

            Callie and I giggled as she took my hand and pulled me back towards the living room, with Ben close behind.

            "What?" Nate demanded.  "Can you blame me for wanting to limit the psychopaths for the rest of the evening?"  As he walked out of the purple room, closing the door behind him, he added with a whine, "Damn, am I ever gonna have nightmares tonight!"