CINDY

SO IN JR. HIGH SCHOOL A BUNCH OF US TOOK THE CITY BUS TO SCHOOL AND BACK BECAUSE THERE WEREN’T ENOUGH SCHOOL BUSSES MAKING THE TRIP TO WYCHWOOD (WHERE A BUNCH OF US LIVED). ANYWAY THERE WAS THIS ONE GIRL NAMED CINDY WHO WE ALL HATED. SHE WAS ENORMOUS (WHICH OBVIOUSLY ISN’T A GOOD REASON TO HATE SOMEONE BUT THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE TWELVE) AND SHE HAD ABSOLUTELY NO TONE TO HER VOICE. SERIOUSLY. WHEN SHE SPOKE IT SOUNDED LIKE A TRASH COMPACTOR HAD JUST COME TO LIFE AND WAS TRYING TO COMMUNICATE. AND SHE WAS DUMB AND PERPETUALLY AGGRAVATED AND JUST NO FUN TO BE AROUND.

SO ANYWAY THIS ONE DAY WE’RE ON THE BUS HEADING HOME. THE CITY BUS DRIVERS HATED TO PICK US UP BECAUSE WE’RE LOUD NOISY KIDS, AND THE DRIVER THAT GOT SHAFTED WITH THE 3:45 STOP AT HALDEY JR HIGH ALWAYS TRIED TO BE ABOUT FIVE MINUTES EARLY SO THAT HE’D ONLY PICK UP THE STUDENTS WHO DIDN’T DICK AROUND IN THE LOCKER BAYS AND LEFT THE SCHOOL THE MINUTE THE BELL RANG AND RAN UP THAT FUCKING HILL IN ORDER TO CATCH THE CITY BUS.

ANYWAY YEAH, THIS ONE TIME THE BUS DRIVER IS ON TIME SO WE’RE ALL WAITING FOR HIM AND WE ALL PILE INTO THE BUS. CINDY IS ALWAYS THE LAST ONE ON, NOT BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T LEAVE THE SCHOOL ON TIME, BUT BECAUSE SHE CAN’T RUN UPHILL VERY WELL DUE TO HER SIZEABLE GIRTH. SO SHE’D ALWAYS BE THE ONE WHO HAD TO STAND ON THE CITY BUS. SO ANYWAY THIS PARTICULAR TIME I’M SITTING IN THE VERY BACK ROW, DEAD CENTER, AND CINDY IS STANDING ABOUT TEN FEET IN FRONT OF ME.

MY FRIEND BEN AND I ARE JUST BEING RUTHLESS TO HER. DEFINITELY NOT COOL, BUT AGAIN WE’RE TWELVE AND ENJOYING OURSELVES. CINDY, ALWAYS IN A FOUL MOOD TO BEGIN WITH, IMMEDIATELY STARTS FROTHING AT THE MOUTH AND STARTS MAKING THESE DISTINCT GURGLING NOISES SHE MAKES WHEN SHE’S IRRITATED. BEN AND I DON’T STOP AND KEEP MAKING JOKES AT HER EXPENSE. CINDY’S BOMBASTIC CHASSIS BEGINS TO SHAKE AND QUIVER ALL OVER AND HER LITTLE BEEDY EYES NARROW. THIS IS ALWAYS A SIGN THAT WE’RE APPROACHING THE APEX OF HER WRATH, AND TODAY IS NO EXCEPTION.

VERY SUDDENLY CINDY STRAIGHTENS UP AND BASICALLY SCREAMS OUT IN THAT ROBOTIC WHEEZE OF HERS "LOOK OUT EVERYBODY!!! IMA GONNA KICK DAVID IN THE FACE!!!!!"

I KIND OF SIT UP SMARTLY AND FEEL LIKE I’VE JUST COME OUT OF A DREAM OR SOMETHING. HAVING THIS MASSIVE BEAST OF A WOMAN KICK ME IN THE FACE IS A SOBERING THOUGHT. I’M CONTEMPLATING THE WHOLE SITUATION WHEN CINDY BEGINS HER CHARGE AND SLOWLY PLOWS TOWARDS ME LIKE A LINEBACKER. I’M THINKING I MIGHT HAVE FIVE, TEN SECONDS BEFORE I’M ON THE RECEIVING END OF A FLABBY FOOT WHEN CINDY SUDDENLY KICKS FORWARD.

AT THIS POINT SHE IS STILL A GOOD NINE FEET AWAY FROM ME. I HAVE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE MISJUDGE DISTANCE SO BADLY IN MY LIFE. SHE HAS TAKEN MAYBE TWO STEPS, TOPS, AND HAS SOMEHOW DECIDED HER TONELESS WRETCH OF A LEG IS GOING TO REACH ME. OF COURSE IT DOESN’T, BUT WHAT’S INTERESTING IS THAT SHE DOES MANAGE TO KICK THIS 80-YEAR-OLD WOMAN SITTING QUIETLY RIGHT IN THE FACE.

THE WOMAN JUST SORT OF TOPPLES OVER BACKWARDS AND GOES TOTALLY LIMP. I AM POSITIVE HER NECK MUST BE BROKEN IN A THOUSAND PLACES, IF HER SKULL ISN’T FRACTURED ALL TOGETHER. CINDY IS BELLOWING LIKE A HARPOONED WHALE, EYES CLOSED. SHE ISN’T EVEN LOOKING AND SHE’S STILL ON THE RAMPAGE. SHE TURNS ABOUT TEN DEGREES TO HER LEFT AND KICKS AGAIN. ONCE MORE I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF SHE HONESTLY THINKS SHE’S ANYWHERE NEAR ME.

THIS TIME CINDY KICKS THIS POOR KID’S DISCMAN RIGHT OUT OF HIS HANDS. I REMEMBER THE DISCMAN DESCRIBED THIS BEAUTIFUL ARC ACROSS THE BUS AND PULLED THE KIDS EARPHONES OUT OF HIS EARS. HE LOOKED UP IN A HURRY, I CAN TELL YOU THAT MUCH, AND TURNED GODDAMNED WHITE WHEN HE SAW CINDY IN FRONT OF HIM, HER MONSTROUS MOUTH OPEN AS WIDE AS A HIPPO’S. I FELT AWFUL FOR HIM.

THEN CINDY KIND OF OPENS HER EYES AND QUIETS DOWN. THE BUS DRIVER IS PUSHING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CRUSH OF ASTONISHED KIDS TOWARDS CINDY. THE OLD LADY I SERIOUSLY THINK IS DEAD, AND IS LYING VERY STILL WITH HER HEAD TILTED BACK TO AN UNNATURAL DEGREE. THE BUS DRIVER GRABS CINDY BY THE SHOULDERS, TURNS HER AROUND AND MAKES HER GET OFF THE BUS.

THEN HE WALKS UP TO THE OLD WOMAN, GRABS HER BY THE SHOULDERS, SHAKES HER LIKE A CAN OF PAINT AND SHE IS MIRACULOUSLY REVIVED AND LOOKS A LITTLE DAZED BUT OTHERWISE OKAY. THEN THE DRIVER SAYS SOMETHING MENACING TO BEN AND I, TURNS AROUND ABRUPTLY AND MARCHES BACK TO THE FRONT OF THE BUS. WE TAKE OFF.

I TAKE A QUICK LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOW AND SEE CINDY STANDING ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. SHE’S SWINGING THOSE COLOSSAL ARMS OF HERS AROUND LIKE LOGS AND IS DEFINITELY STILL SCREAMING AND SHOUTING OUT NONSENSE. BEN YELLS OUT "HEY CINDY!!" AND SHE TURNS TO US AND THE LAST THING SHE SEES THAT DAY IS BEN HOLD UP HER KNAPSACK TO THE WINDOW WITH A GIANT GRIN ON HIS FACE.

DIVER'S WATCH

ALSO ONCE AT THE COTTAGE MY DAD AND UNCLE DON ARE NOW ARGUING OVER WHO HAS THE NICEST WATCH. DON IS GOING ON ABOUT HIS IS ATOMIC OR SOMETHING AND MY DAD IS TALKING ABOUT HOW HIS IS POWERED BY WRIST MOVEMENTS AND THEY ARE BOTH MAKING EXTRAVAGANT CLAIMS THAT I CAN NEITHER VERIFY NOR DISREGARD. WE ARE ALL WALKING DOWN TO THE LAKE TO GO SWIMMING. AS WE APPROACH THE SHORELINE UNCLE DON CAREFULLY REMOVES HIS WATCH, WRAPS IT IN A CHAMOIS HE MUST HAVE HAD HIDDEN IN HIS BATHING SUIT, AND PLACES IT DAINTILY IN THE CENTER OF A FOLDING CHAIR.

"CAN’T TAKE IT IN THE WATER, EH?!" MY DAD SHOUTS OUT TRIUMPHANTLY AND UNCLE DON GLOWERS. "MY WATCH ISN’T JUST WATER-RESISTANT, IT’S WATER-PROOF!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT!" MY DAD SUDDENLY TURNS THE BAND OVER AND SCRUTINIZES THE BACK OF PLATE. "YEP!!!" HE CONTINUES GLEEFULLY, "SAYS IT RIGHT HERE - WATERPROOF UP TO 14 WHOLE ATMOSPHERES. WHAT A WATCH!"

DON SILENTLY WADES OUT INTO THE LAKE. MY DAD SPLASHES IN LIKE HE WAS DROPPED OUT OF A PLANE AND SWIMS PAST UNCLE RON, SHOUTING ALL THE WHILE. "14 ATMOSPHERES! THAT’S PRETTY DEEP!! CAN’T DO THAT WITH YOUR WATCH, CAN YOU!" HE SCORES HIS POINT AND TAKES IT FURTHER WITH A LITTLE DIVE UNDER THE WATER. HE SURFACES EXUBERANTLY. "YES, SEE - STILL TICKING!" HE PUTS THE WATCH TO HIS EAR AND SMILES BLISSFULLY ALTHOUGH I’M CONVINCED HE CAN’T HEAR A THING AMID ALL THE SPLASHING HE’S DOING. "YES, THIS IS A FINE PIECE OF CRAFTSMANSHIP. I BET I COULD GO DOWN TO THE BOTTOM OF THE LAKE WITH THIS THING!" HE TAKES AN EXAGGERATED DEEP BREATH AND DISAPPEARS INTO THE MURKY DEPTHS OF THE LAKE.

UNCLE DON AND I WAIT. DON LOOKS AS THOUGH THE LAKE IS FULL OF VINEGAR AND HE JUST SWALLOWED A LOT OF IT. ABOUT A MINUTE LATER MY DAD’S HEAD POPS UP A GOOD FIFTY FEET AWAY FROM US. HE’S STILL SHOUTING HAPPILY UNTIL HE LIFTS UP HIS HAND - THE WATCH ISN’T THERE ANYMORE. HE’S SOMEHOW MANAGED TO LOSE IT WHILE SWIMMING AS FAST AS HE COULD UNDER WATER.

A THIN SMILE BEGINS TO CREEP ACROSS UNCLE DON’S FACE AND WITHIN MINUTES HE IS JUST BEAMING. HE STILL REFERS TO THAT TIME AS ONE OF THE BEST SWIMS HE’S EVER TAKEN IN THE LAKE.

THE ANSWER IS TAWNY

SO ALSO IN KINDERGARTEN I APPARENTLY THOUGHT THAT THE KIDS IN MY CLASS DIDN’T KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT COUGARS FOR SOME REASON, BECAUSE I DEFINITELY MADE A SWEET COUGAR QUIZ WHICH I INSISTED ON GIVING OUT TO THE CLASS THE NEXT DAY.

WHAT COLOR IS THE COUGAR? GOLD? NO! BROWN? NO! RED? NO! THE ANSWER IS TAWNY.

CAT FIGHT

SO EVERY CHRISTMAS MORNING AFTER WE HAD OPENED OUR PRESENTS, KYLE AND I WOULD RUN OVER TO EACH OTHERS' HOUSES AND BANG ON THE DOOR AND YELL OUT "MEET ME IN THE CLUBHOUSE!" AND WE WOULD CLIMB UP TO THE TREEFORT IN THE FRIGID FROZEN WINTER WITH ALL OUR NEW TOYS AND WOULD COMPARE OUR GIFTS. WE STARTED DOING THIS WHEN WE WERE PROBABLY ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT YEARS OLD.

ANYWAY THE "CLUBHOUSE" WAS BUILT BY KYLE'S DAD AFTER WE HAD SORT OF DISCOVERED A REALLY CRAPPY TREEFORT IN THE EMPTY WOODED LOT ADJACENT TO OUR HOUSES AND HAD MOVED IN. THIS TREEFORT HAD INITIALLY BEEN BUILT BY THIS KID DEREK AND HIS FRIENDS, BUT THEY WERE A GOOD FIVE YEARS OLDER THAN US AND THEREFORE OF NO CONSEQUENCE TO ANYTHING. ONCE THEY HAD ABANDONED THE DANGEROUS STRUCTURE WE SORT OF TOOK CLAIM OF IT AND SPRUCED IT UP AS BEST AS WE COULD. IT WAS ACTUALLY PRETTY HIGH UP, AND POORLY NAILED TO THE TREE, SO ONCE OUR PARENTS' REALIZED WHERE OUR HIDEOUT WAS THEY DETERMINED TO BUILD US A REAL AND CONSIDERABLY SAFER 'CLUBHOUSE'. ANYWAY THE TREEFORT PART RESTED OF A COUPLE OF 6x6 POSTS, MAYBE EIGHT FEET OFF THE GROUND. A SANDBOX WAS CONSTRUCTED BETWEEN THE POSTS, AND OUR FORT WAS BUILT OVER IT. IT HAD A BIG METAL SLIDE THAT WE WOULD LIE ON IN THE SUMMER AFTER SWIMMING. WE HAD NAILED AN OLD STEERING WHEEL TO THE BACK OF IT AND WOULD OCCASSIONALLY PRETEND WE WERE DRIVING THE WHOLE THING.

ANYWAY, THIS PARTICULAR CHRISTMAS MORNING I HAD RECEIVED ONE OF THOSE JUNIOR-TACKLE-BOX MONSTRONSITIES THAT BOASTED ABOUT 500 INDIVIDUAL PIECES CONSISTING CHIEFLY OF HOOKS AND SINKERS AND ALL THAT. I WAS PRETTY EXCITED ABOUT IT AND COULDN'T WAIT TO SHOW KYLE. AFTER I HAD OPENED UP ALL MY GIFTS I GRABBED THEM ALL, SPENT THE CUSTOMARY 40 MINUTES OR WHATEVER IT TOOK TO DRESS ONE'S SELF AGAINST THE BRUTAL CANADIAN WINTER, TRUDGED THROUGH THE KNEE-DEEP SNOW OVER TO KYLE'S BACKYARD, AND BANGED ON THE DOOR. KYLE'S PARENTS USUALLY ANSWERED AND I TOLD THEM TO TELL KYLE TO MEET ME UP IN THE CLUBHOUSE. THEN I PUT ALL MY BOUNTY ON THE SLIDE AND PUSHED IT UP INTO THE FORT BY WEDGING MY BOOTS INTO THE SIDES OF THE RAILINGS. (WAY EASIER THAN CLIMBING THE LADDER).

ONCE UP I LAID OUT ALL MY PRESENTS IN A NICE COMPLIMENTARY MANNER AND THEN DECIDED TO START LOOKING THROUGH MY JUNIOR TACKLE BOX. I CAREFULLY OPENED UP ALL THE LITTLE PLASTIC TIERS THAT LIFTED OUT AND REVEALED A HUNDRED LITTLE COMPARTMENTS ALL SPORTING DOZENS OF HOOKS AND LEADERS AND LURES AND FLOATERS AND EVEN A LITTLE PAIR OF PLIARS. THEN KYLE CAME RUNNING UP THE SLIDE HOLDING THIS LITTLE MINIATURE POOL TABLE THAT WAS ABOUT A FOOT LONG AND RAN INTO THE CLUBHOUSE AND YELLED OUT "LOOK WHAT I GOT!!" AND PROMPTLY KICKED OVER MY TACKLE BOX.

FIVE HUNDRED SMALL SHINY HOOKS ALL SPILLED OUT AND FELL THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE FLOOR AND INTO THE SANDBOX BELOW. KYLE STOPPED DEAD IN HIS TRACKS AND LOOKED HORRIFIED. I WAS EQUALLY REVOLTED - FIRST I WAS REALLY PISSED OFF ABOUT LOSING ALL THIS STUFF, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY I FELT LIKE WE COULD BE IN BIG TROUBLE FOR THIS. KIDS ARE EQUIPPED WITH THIS STRANGE AUXILIARY SENSE OF BEING IN TROUBLE WHICH THEY OBEY ALMOST INSTANTLY. KYLE AND I BOTH CLEARLY FELT IT AND FOR A LITTLE WHILE CHRISTMAS WAS THE FARTHEST THING FROM OUR MINDS.

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!" KYLE WHISPERED AT ME, TERRIFIED. "I DON'T KNOW!" I REPLIED, "LET'S AT LEAST SEE IF WE CAN GET THEM OUT OF THE SANDBOX!"

SO WE LEAVE OUR PRESENTS BEHIND AND SORT OF GINGERLY WALK AROUND THE SANDBOX LIKE IT'S A LION THAT WE JUST SHOT ONLY WE AREN'T SURE IF IT'S DEAD OR NOT. THERE'S A GOOD FOOT OF SNOW ON TOP OF THE SAND AND THERE ARE TINY, TINY LITTLE HOLES WHERE THE HOOKS FELL THROUGH. SOME OF THEM ARE STILL HANGING ABOVE OUR HEADS, TOO, CAUGHT IN THE WOOD SOMEHOW. THE WHOLE THING IS REALLY DISCOURAGING. WE HAVEN'T PLAYED IN THE SANDBOX IN YEARS (AND IT'S WINTER ANYWAY), AND KYLE'S KITCHEN WINDOW AFFORDS ANYONE WHO LOOKS A GOOD VIEW OF THE CLUB HOUSE - IT'LL JUST BE WAY TOO SUSPICIOUS IF WE'RE SEEN POKING AROUND THERE AND BENDING OVER AND PICKING THINGS UP.

"KYLE, I DON'T THINK THERE'S ANYTHING WE CAN DO," I HISS, AND HE SORT OF GIVES ME THIS PORTENTOUS NOD. "WE'RE JUST GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THE SNOW MELTS, AND MAKE SURE THAT THE SECOND IT DOES WE'RE THE FIRST PEOPLE THERE SO WE CAN PICK UP ALL THOSE HOOKS". AGAIN, KYLE GIVES ME ANOTHER FATEFUL NOD.

WE CLIMB BACK UP INTO THE CLUBHOUSE AND COLLECT ALL THE HOOKS AND STUFF THAT WE CAN FIND, AND DO OUR BEST TO MAKE SURE THERE AREN'T ANY VISIBLE HOOKS LEFT, AND THEN WE SORT OF TALK OURSELVES BACK INTO THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND TALK ABOUT EATING PIES AND ICE CREAM AND FIGURING OUT WHO IS GOING TO BRING WHICH TOYS TO SCHOOL ONCE THE BREAK IS OVER.

SO PROBABLY ABOUT FORTY-FIVE MINUTES AFTER THIS WE'VE BOTH COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN THAT THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF HOOKS BURIED IN THE SANDBOX AND WE GO ABOUT OUR LIVES.

LATER THAT SPRING, AFTER THE SNOW HAS THAWED AND THE GROUND IS STARTING TO SOFTEN AND WE'RE FINDING TOYS WE LEFT IN THE YARD OVER THE WINTER AND WORMS ARE STARTING TO COME OUT AND LITTLE RIVULETS OF COLD WATER ARE RUNNING DOWN THE STREETS, KYLE AND I ARE ON THE ROOF OF THE CLUBHOUSE, TRYING TO SCARE EACH OTHER OFF OF IT, WHEN SUDDENLY WE HEAR THIS AWFUL FUCKING YOWL WAY OFF IN THE DISTANCE. INTRIGUED, WE SCAN OVER THE BLOCK (WE'RE NOT REALLY THAT HIGH UP, BUT MOST OF THE HOUSES ON OUR BLOCK DON'T HAVE A SECOND FLOOR) AND SOON ENOUGH WE SEE TWO CATS GETTING INTO A FIGHT. WE SORT OF WATCH THE CATS SPILL UP AND DOWN THE STREET, SCREECHING AND HOWLING LIKE CRAZY, AND PRETTY SOON WE'RE DELIGHTED TO OBSERVE THAT THEY'RE HEADING IN OUR DIRECTION. WE'RE GOING TO SEE A CATFIGHT UP CLOSE!!

THE CATS ARE TOO BUSY WITH EACH OTHER TO NOTICE A COUPLE OF KIDS HIDING UP IN THE TREES, AND BY SOME BLESSED PROVIDENCE THEY BRING THE FIGHT TO KYLE'S YARD. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE'VE SEEN A CAT FIGHT UP CLOSE, AND WE'RE BOTH INTERESTED TO NOTE THAT THEY'RE HARDLY TOUCHING EACH OTHER, AND MOSTLY JUST MAKING NOISE. THE CATS GET NEARER AND NEARER TO THE CLUBHOUSE. SUDDENLY KYLE WHISPERS "I WONDER IF THEY'LL GO INTO THE SANDBOX", AND I HAVE ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS WHERE LIKE A MILLION DEJA-VU-LIKE MEMORIES GO COURSING THROUGH MY HEAD AND SUDDENLY I REMEMBER. "KYLE!!!" I ROAR, "THE HOOKS!!!"

KYLE, EVIDENTLY ABSORBED BY THE BRAWL BELOW, CERTAINLY WAS NOT EXPECTING MY VOCIFERATIONS AND LOST HIS BALANCE. THE ROOF OF THE CLUB-HOUSE WAS SHAPED LIKE AN UPSIDE-DOWN 'V', AND COVERED WITH REAL SHINGLES, AND WE HAD BEEN SITTING FACING EACH OTHER WITH ONE LEG DRAPED OVER EACH SIDE. KYLE PITCHED OVER TO HIS LEFT WITH THE STARTLED, INNOCENT, WIDE-EYED EXPRESSION YOU SOMETIMES SEE ON VERY SMALL CHILDREN WHEN THEY ARE STARTLED AND FALL BACKWARDS. HIS RIGHT LEG CAME UP AFTER HIM AND HE STARTED A MURKY DESCENT HEAD-FIRST DOWN THE SIDE OF THE ROOF WITH BOTH ARMS OUTSTRETCHED AHEAD OF HIM. I THINK IT WAS AROUND THE POINT WHERE HE ACTUALLY PLUNGED OFF THE ROOF AND INTO EMPTY AIR THAT HIS BRAIN AND HIS MOUTH MADE SOME CRUCIAL CONNECTIONS, AND THIS LOW, GHOSTLY "AHHHHHHHHHHH" SOUND EMITTED FROM HIS PERSON. THE CATS, WHO HAD STOPPED FIGHTING THE SPLIT SECOND THEY HEARD MY SHRIEK, NOW FOCUSED THEIR ATTENTION ON THE HURTLING BODY FALLING FROM SPACE AND TOOK THEIR LEAVE WITH ADMIRABLE CELERITY. I LEANED OVER JUST IN TIME TO WATCH KYLE LAND ON AN OLD TIRE WE HAD SALVAGED THE PREVIOUS YEAR. HE SEEMED SOMEWHAT INJURED AND I QUICKLY GOT OFF THE ROOF AND ALERTED HIS PARENTS TO THE DETERIORATING CONDITION OF THEIR CHILD. I KNEW HE WAS FINE, THOUGH, BECAUSE HE WAS DOING HIS EXAGERATED FAKE-SOBBING.

INTERESTINGLY ENOUGH, THE EVENTS THAT HAD JUST TRANSPIRED ONCE AGAIN ERASED THE PROBLEM OF THE FISHING HOOKS FROM MEMORY, AND IT WAS NOT UNTIL SEVERAL YEARS LATER, AFTER KYLE'S PARENTS PROVIDED HIM WITH A BABY SISTER, WHO WAS NOW THREE OR FOUR AND OLD ENOUGH TO ENJOY THE SANDBOX, DID THE ISSUE FINALLY COME TO LIGHT. THE SANDBOX WAS EMPTIED, THE PARENTS ALL MADE A GREAT UPROAR ABOUT HOW THIS COULD HAVE HAPPENED, WE STAYED QUIET, THE SANDBOX WAS REFILLED, AND THE MATTER CLOSED.