CHAPTER 13: THE RESURRECTION, PART 2
Author's note: The following chapter contains a written adaptation of the beginning of the episode 'Arnold and Lila'; Season 3, Episode 13A. The original plot and dialogue is written Steve Viksten and was directed by Steve Socki. No copyright infringement is intended and all credit to the original writers where it is due.
Several years ago, during a simpler time in a simpler place...
Another day goes by for the 4th graders of P.S. 118; after hours of boredom brought on by tedious lectures and information that seems useless to these children, the time for such troubles are over, and a time to play and socialize is now. Children are but the energy of youth condensed to small bodies, and their worlds are all they have to express that energy.
While others seek out other activities to fill their day with, perhaps occupying their time with sports or television or perhaps even reading, there are a few who stay behind to socialize with their friends. One such child is newcomer Lila Sawyer, and she has had no trouble finding her own friends ready to flock to her.
Keeping up with her good and friendly nature, the young Lila opted to share a joke with the group.
"And, then, the farmer said: 'That's no kid, that's my baby goat'." Lila said.
Gathered by a few listening ears looking to socialize more with this new student, some of the surrounding ears belonged to Rhonda, Nadine, Sid, and Stinky, to name a few, but, lest we forget, Arnold as well. Though she has had no such troubles as of yet reaching out for a friend here, if there were before, the sounds of their laughter would confirm they are no more.
One such onlooker, however, is no so eager to make friends with this new girl. This one outsider is Helga Pataki, a known ruffian among the girls and all-round troublemaker; a child not many others would seek out for a friend. Looking upon the flock as they surround Lila, Helga feels a hint of jealousy regarding this new girl.
"Oh, brother. Why does everybody over that Lila? Even Arnold." Helga lamented.
She still retains her jealousy over this new girl, believing her to be a threat in the goal of obtaining Arnold for her own. Though she does not yet have the courage to share her feelings, there will soon and eventually come a time when it is right for her to share her heart.
Though we, those looking into the past now know, that her wait will have to be prolonged, there is this glimmer of hope for the young Helga, coming now from these members of Lila's flock passing by. As she hides behind an alleyway in fear, there are three others who pass on; Arnold, Sid, and Stinky, none taking notice of her.
"I reckon, when I get growed up, I'm gonna ask Lila to be my gal." Stinky said.
"Not if I ask her first." Sid said.
"What about you, Arnold? Are you holdin' a torch for Lila, too?"
Though this one question might have seemed simple and innocent to the boys, this one inquiry was enough to make her very heart jump out of her chest. Nonetheless, despite her terror at what might come out of her betrothed's mouth, the answer gave her the hope she was looking for.
"I don't know, Stinky. I mean, I like Lila, but I don't 'like her' like her." Arnold said.
As the boys continued on their way to whatever event might have beckoned their attention at that moment in time, none still noticed the hiding Helga in her hole, nor could they bear witness to the spectacle that followed. Having the anxiety brought to an end, Helga's eyes closed up tight to hold in her excitement.
"He doesn't 'like her' like her." Helga said.
Levitated at her very own words, Helga slid down to the ground, landing on a cardboard box to break her fall.
"Oh, Arnold! So discriminant, so patient and thoughtful! Spurning the golden girl and saving his affections for one less likely, yet, ultimately, more deserving." Helga said.
Continuing on her dramaticized rants of romance, pondering on her delusions of grandeur wrapped in a need for approval and love, Helga spoke her words while looking into her prized possession: Her golden locket, complete with a picture of Arnold himself. Picking herself up off the ground, Helga continued down the alleyway, furthering her own dreams of romance.
"One who may not be the prettiest or the wittiest, but whose primitive beauty, grace, and charms lie tragically observed and unawakened. Someone like... me, Helga G. Pataki. Oh, Arnold, bane of my existence, blight upon my tortured heart, if only you knew my true feelings for you, and, if only you felt the same true feelings towards me. Dare I imagine, if for only one brief mad moment it were true." Helga said.
An artist at heart deep down at her core, Helga finds inspiration to express her emotions at every corner; speaking out her feelings aloud like this very moment, writing epic poems focused on her love, or creating statues and other works to convey her feelings. In this alleyway, there is once again a stroke of inspiration that calls to her, coming today in the form of a piece of chalk.
"Call me mad, but I dare. I dare, with this chalk and no witnesses in sight, I will write the words upon this wall which bear my soul, expressing all. I hope, I dream, I pine and I pray, it was true forever and a day." Helga said.
Finally, no longer wasting her time with mere monologues, Helga took her chalk to the brick wall in front of her, writing out her words to fulfill her fantasy at last.
"Arnold... Loves... Helga." Helga wrote aloud.
Surrounding her words within the shape of a heart and drawing an arrow through said heart, her drawing was now complete. With her work of art complete for her to gaze upon, Helga sat herself back and did exactly that; fantasizing over the days on when Arnold would finally be hers.
Though, her fantasy cannot last forever, and an imminent danger comes around the corner for Helga. Voices began to crawl up the alleyway, growing louder and louder by the second; the voices carrying with them a group of children coming near and dangerously close.
"She mixed navy blue with black. What was she thinking? Totally outrageous." Rhonda said.
Letting out a loud gasp, the frightful Helga began to panic and let go of all capability to rationally think. Unable to let anyone see the mural that she had crafted in chalk, Helga sought to hide her work, but not in the most efficient way, instead causing herself a new problem.
Wiping off her own name, Helga quickly wrote 'Lila' in her place, changing the message of the writing to convey not her fantasy, but her nightmare. With her work done, Helga dashed out of the alleyway and out of sight, unable to let anyone see her or realize the truth behind her drawing.
Rhonda, as planned, did not notice her departure, and only led on the group of others, Nadine and Lila, down the alleyway. Not as planned, however, Rhonda did spot the writing on the wall, sending the wrong message towards the others and bringing more troubles for Helga than she had imagined.
"Hold up, girls. 'Arnold loves Lila'?" Rhonda asked.
Back in the present time...
The morning hours are never quite so easy for the Sunset Arms Boarding Home: With 5 adults and 2 children to tend to, tasks as simple as cooking breakfast becomes a challenge on par with a game show, and keeping order at the dining table like pacifying a prison riot. The duties of tending to the boarders are not easy ones by any means, but the married couple of Miles and Stella Shortman do their best to keep the most important meal of the day moving smoothly.
For 2 more occupants of the boarding home, the morning is not quite as difficult; the morning moves slower for these two. These two late risers are Arnold Shortman and Helga Pataki, the son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law of the Shortmans. They have no such desire to join the chaos just for breakfast, but instead they choose to enjoy the morning hours with one another.
Where Helga is far more than a night owl than an early bird, Arnold is neither; having little need for sleep, daring to consider it more of a luxury following his many years of being a Spirit Master. The luxury more important than sleep, however, is the loving arms of his fiancee, giving him all the warmth and escape he needs from his own troubles.
Likewise, Helga finds much of the same comfort in him, and she forgets her own troubles. Though Arnold has had no share of an easy life in Hillwood without his parents, he has at least had his grandparents to fill those shoes, and the hope that he would one day see them again. The loss of his grandparents not withstanding, his life has had its sense of peace.
Helga, however, has not found that peace just yet. Since her first interaction with Arnold when they were but 3 years old, he became the one and only focus in her own life. This fixation was bred out of neglect from her biological parents; favoring their firstborn over her and forsaking the runt of the litter, not even bothering to remember her name. Her life has not been so pleasant.
For now, it is pleasant enough for her. All she needs now is the hold of her lover to sleep, and she does just that.
Though she is all that Arnold usually cares to keep his attention towards in the morning, his phone has gained it with a sharp and stinging ring. The beckoning of the phone was not particularly pleasant to hear, breaking the two out of their comfortable sleep, but it still led Arnold to answer its call.
Picking up the phone, Arnold placed the receiver to his ear, beginning the conversation with this mystery caller, albeit with a groggy voice.
"Ugh... hello?" Arnold asked.
"Hey Arnold, it's Lila." The caller said.
"Wha... Oh, hey, Lila, uh... How'd you get this number?"
"Last I remembered, you lived at the Sunset Arms. I found the number, then I found you."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, one second."
Getting himself up out of bed, Arnold stretched his back out, letting out a crack from his bones and a loud yawn from his mouth. Properly waking himself up to continue the conversation, Arnold put the phone back to his head.
"Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?" Lila asked.
"No, no, it's okay, I was gonna get up soon anyways. So, what's up?" Arnold asked.
"Well, I wasn't particularly doing anything today, so I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for some coffee down at Big Al's Cafe?"
As Lila asked her question, Helga began to wake from her sleep as well, propping herself up on the bed to inquire about the caller.
"Who's that?" Helga moaned.
"It's Lila. She's asking me out for coffee. Should I ask if you can come, too?" Arnold asked.
"Ugh... No, thanks, I'm just gonna lay here."
With his answer from Helga, Arnold turned back to his conversation with Lila.
"Uh, okay, sure, what time?" Arnold asked.
"Oh, I was thinking about 8:00 AM. Would that be okay?" Lila asked.
"Yeah, sure, that works. I'll see you then."
"Oh, perfect! It'll be oh so great to see you again!"
"Yeah, same, see you in a little bit."
With his date made and his conversation ended, Arnold hung up the phone, putting it back in its place. Finally coming to and gaining her full attention back, Helga realized the context of the conversation, inquiring further about the full implications of the date.
"Hey, you said that was Lila that called? As in, 'Little Miss Perfect' Lila?" Helga asked.
"Well, I wouldn't really go calling names like that, but, yeah." Arnold said.
"Ugh, she's back? Did you tell her that you and I are engaged?"
"Relax, Helga, it's nothing like that. She already knows about you and me, I talked to her yesterday, she just wants to meet for some coffee."
"Yeah, right, maybe for you to put a little 'creamer' in it."
"It's just coffee, Helga, nothing like that. Besides, you remember that there's nothing between us anymore. We're just going as friends, believe me."
"Yeah, right, that's what they all say. First thing, you two are just going for coffee, next thing, I'll find you bending her over the stove and I'll be-"
Upon contemplating such a possibility, Helga began to remember the instance in how their romance came to be, and how it was a direct result of her own actions. Realizing that she had gone too far in her suspicions and began to show signs of jealousy, Helga leaned herself back against the bed, holding a pillow in her arms.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Arnold. I don't mean that, I just... I remember how you always tried to go after her back in the day. It wasn't easy, not being able to talk to you, and knowing you wanted somebody else. That was all my fault." Helga said.
Not allowing her to blame herself for the unreciprocated relationship between him and Lila, Arnold grasped Helga's hands, taking her full attention to share this important piece of his thoughts.
"No, Helga, nothing about that was your fault. I didn't know how you felt, and I wouldn't have gone after Lila if I didn't realize she didn't like me sooner." Arnold said.
"Oh, but, Arnold, you don't get it, it really is my fault, I was the one who-" Helga began to say.
"Shh, no, Helga, don't say it was your fault. Don't blame yourself for how that went."
"But, Arnold, I was the one who made that happened, back then, I-"
"Helga. It doesn't matter. That was the past. What matters now is you and me here, in the present. Okay? Promise me you won't worry about the past anymore?"
Although Helga was indeed the one who was the one who caused the confused feelings between him and Lila many years ago, Arnold was not willing to hear any sort of apologies out of her. Still under the naive belief that she was simply blaming herself irrationally, Arnold did not allow her to make any more attempts to apologize, leaving her unable to speak the truth.
Accepting his request anyways, Helga let out a sigh, nodding her head in agreement.
"Okay, I won't think about the past anymore." Helga said.
"That's better. Still sure you don't want to come with me and say 'hi'?" Arnold asked.
"No, still not quite looking forward to seeing her. Besides, I've got some more work to get done here. I think I'll do a painting today after I finish my sculpture."
Arnold gave a kiss to bid Helga a temporary goodbye, which she quickly accepted and shared.
"I'm looking forward to seeing it finished. Bye, Helga." Arnold said.
"Bye, Arnold." Helga said.
Not wanting to deal with the chaos still unfolding downstairs at the dining table, Arnold instead opted to head out of the building in a different manner, heading up to the window.
"I thought you were going to coffee?" Helga asked.
"Yeah, but I thought I'd take the express route. Not interested in navigating through breakfast today. Feed Phil for me, will you?" Arnold asked.
"Sure, Arnold. See you later."
Heading up to the roof and closing the window behind him, Arnold walked his way to the edge of the roof, scanning out for any prying eyes that might lie in the alley or beyond. Fortunately for him, there were no bystanders or onlookers in the vicinity, allowing him to head to ground level in a more fun way.
Rather than climb down the fire escape, Arnold leapt off the edge of the roof, gliding down the edge of the wall of the building next door. Needing to slow his descent, he leapt to the adjacent wall, sliding back down the wall of the Sunset Arms. With each few feet he reached down, he jumped back and forth between the walls, gliding down until he reached the ground.
Making his way down the alley, Arnold buttoned up his plaid shirt, fully and properly dressing himself for his coffee date with Lila. Before making his way down the streets, however, there were still two prying eyes that caught him leaving the alleyway: William and Annie Grossman.
"Hey Arnold, how'd you get down here so fast?" William asked.
"Yeah, Mr. Arnold, tell us!" Annie said.
"Oh, I, uh... took the fire escape." Arnold said.
"Down a whole flight of stairs that fast?" William asked.
"Well, you know, you just gotta stay in shape. You know, eat your greens and get plenty of exercise."
"Really? Mom always says that, she wasn't kidding!" Annie said.
"Then I'm eating your greens before you can!" William said.
"Not if I eat yours first!"
Successfully playing an excuse to have made his way to the ground so quickly, Arnold watched the two children make their way back inside, smiling as he watched the siblings fight their way inside. Now, with a long walk ahead of himself to make his way to Big Al's Cafe, Arnold set himself on his way to his destination, putting on a pair of earbuds and playing a Dino Spumoni tape during his walk.
With some good jazz music behind his walk, he can relax and enjoy his walk in leisure.
Art Spiegelman's Maus was unlike anything the world of comics had seen at the time of its release; completely shifting the paradigm regarding comic books as a medium and leading to the format being taken more seriously. Released in full format in 1991, it chronicles the life of Vladek Spiegelman, the author's father, and his time of survival in Nazi Germany.
Starting from his humble roots as a child, moving into the rise of Nazi Germany and the start of the country's crusade to create a white ethnostate, detailing his survival in Auschwitz, and leading up to his freedom and adjustment to life again, the book allowed others to gain a new insight to the horrors of the Second World War; viewing it from the eyes of one of its victims from the inside.
Wolfgang is a self-identified Nazi, and follows their political and philosophical views; holding the belief that only the white man is the superior species, and all others are merely dregs and parasites in his land. Hoping that he could give him a chance to see his ways differently, and perhaps get some change in his life, Arnold gifted him with a copy of the book.
Although the idea of reading about the life of a Jew portrayed in a sympathetic light was not the most intriguing concept to him, Wolfgang eventually found himself reading it anyways. Not having anything to do with his days save for lay in his bed or exercise his one arm, it seemed only inevitable that he would read the book. Perhaps, he thinks, he can at least get a laugh out of it somewhere, if he can get past the frustration of reading a book with one hand.
Though said challenge is not easy to overcome, Wolfgang found a way to read through the book; managing to flip through the pages and hold his spot open with only one hand. The reason he was gifted said book was to give him a new insight to his beliefs, giving a way to humanize those who he views as inferior.
While reading, however, the book does not do its job.
Reading about the tales of Vladek Spiegelman and many of his loved ones being hunted down by the Third Reich, dehumanized and demoralized, forced to hide for their very lives, and struggle for survival, he does not root for his survival.
Reading about his eventual capture and imprisonment in Auschwitz, hearing detailed descriptions of the Zyklon-B chambers and of the dead bodies of the Jews burned up the chimneys of the ovens, Wolfgang does not feel pity.
Seeing the way in which the characters were portrayed, in which Jews were shown as mice and Nazis as cats, this served to cement his own views. The relationship of a cat and a mouse, a predator and its prey, he felt pride in his status as the predator. The machinations created to destroy his enemy, the untermensch, he gains strength knowing that he is part of the race that had the knowledge to accomplish these tools of ethnic cleansing.
The book was meant to sway him from his beliefs.
Instead, it strengthened them.
And, with that, Wolfgang gave a laugh.
Though his laughs do not last long, as the opening of the door to his room gave him the presence of a visitor. Walking into his room, Edmund, his best friend and now caretaker, sought to converse with his housemate regarding some of his own beliefs and thoughts.
"Hey, Wolfie, I got some weed. Want a toke of the smoke?" Edmund asked.
"No, man, I don't smoke nigger-leaf. They turn themselves brain-dead and lower their sperm count with that shit. Sure, it means less of them on my tax dollar, but, still." Wolfgang said.
"Hey, man, weed never hurt anybody. Look, I wanted to talk to you about that. This whole Nazi thing you've got going? I really think you outta start to... I don't know... maybe re-think some of it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I... Look, man, the shit you do just makes me uncomfortable, to say the least."
"Why's that? You starting to be ashamed to be white? You're not turning race traitor on me, are you?"
"You see? That's what I'm talking about. You've gone full Nazi on me, man. It's not you."
"'Not me'? This is me, man. It's all of us. I was too stupid not to realize the real problem until later, when I started to see just how much damage these untermensch were doing to our country."
"Who?"
"Who? The niggers who killed my dad. He was shot dead just from walking home. That's what opened my eyes to the real problem in this country."
"Jesus, man, what about black people getting killed by other black people? Or when blacks get killed by whites? What do you call those?"
"I call one the monkeys killing each other like the savages they are, and the other cleaning up our country."
Unable to take the disgusting words coming from his best friend's mouth, Edmund turned away in disgust, needing a moment to compose himself. While trying to keep himself from losing his mind or his lunch, the young man contemplated on how he could have befriended such a monster, and why he was nurturing such a man.
"Goddammit, man, are you even listening to yourself? So what difference does it make if your dad got killed by some gang members? I'm sorry he's dead, I really am, but how are you any different from anyone else in the same position? You think this shit is gonna bring him back? Or he would even approve of this?" Edmund asked.
"No, but it'll stop anyone else from losing a loved one to some savage that only wants to rape and kill." Wolfgang said.
"And exactly what makes them 'savage'? Just the fact that they have darker skin?"
"Not exactly. Where did a lot of the niggers and spics come from? Africa and South America. You see what half those places have? No clean running water, war everywhere, cannibal tribes, paganism, and all kinds of sick shit. Damn monkeys are better off dead."
"And even if those were as big as you say, you think every one of them here are like that?"
"Who knows what kind of stuff they do? They probably do worse. And don't even get me started on the Jews."
"And what about the Jews? Need I remind you that a couple of guys in our school were Jews, like Harold Berman?"
"Oh, no need, I remember that prick. That asshole was nothing but a troublemaker and a nuisance to everybody. All he did was just play the school bully to everyone. Hell, that dumbass was even held back 4 years in a row."
"I gotta be honest, you and I were worse bullies back then."
"Yeah, but at least we were the superior ones; pushing down on those beneath us. That's the white man's way. As for the Jews, look at the shit they do. They funnel all our tax dollars to Israel for their bullshit holy war, with two religions against each other that are both fake anyways, with guys like Soros buying our politicians. Let's not also forget ones like Epstein, pedophiles who round up little kids and rape 'em. I see even the most liberal and communist people make points like this, and they accuse them of being anti-semetic. If that's their idea of 'anti-semetic', wait till they get a load of me."
"C'mon, dude, I could just as easily make the same argument about white people, but I'm not going to, because I don't care at all about color. What I do care about is you, because you were my best friend in school and I don't like seeing you turning into something hateful like this."
"What are you, my mother now? It's bad enough that bitch went and dated a nigger after my dad died, I can't even look at her in the eyes anymore. Now I have to deal with this shit from you, too?"
"Wolfie, I- You know what? Forget it, I can't take anymore of this shit."
Unable to stomach the conversation any further, Edmund began to walk towards the door to the room, trying to avoid the topic any further.
"Hey, wait a minute, where are you going?" Wolfgang asked.
"You always say this racist shit constantly. I took you in because you needed some help, and I was hoping I could convince you back to reason. From what I've seen, I'm not gonna get anywhere with you, and I should have realized that was obvious from the start. You're too far gone, Wolfgang. I'm outta here."
Turning to face the door once again, Edmund began to make his way out, aiming to make it the last time he would ever need to make his way out of this house again. Unable to let his caretaker and friend leave him for good, Wolfgang began to reason with Edmund, hoping he would make him stay again.
"Hey, Edmund, wait a minute!" Wolfgang said.
"I'll call somebody to take care of you before I go. Hopefully, you'll get somebody with a stronger stomach than me." Edmund said.
"No, dude, wait, I..."
Trying to appeal to Edmund's emotional core, Wolfgang changed his arguments to that angle, hoping that he would manage to convince him to stay out of sympathy.
"You're right, man. I'm really screwed up." Wolfgang said.
Not expecting to hear this sentence to come out of Wolfgang's mouth, Edmund stopped in his tracks; his intrigue rising to listen to more.
"Look, man, I get that I go too far sometimes. But, how can you really blame me? Look at me, man, I've only got one goddamn arm and I can't move without your help. You think this shit's easy? It's not. Sometimes, I can actually still feel my other arm and legs like they're still there, and I'll try to move them, but it just hurts. It makes everything hurt, including my head." Wolfgang said.
Having his attention brought more in by Wolfgang's words, Edmund turned to him, no longer dedicated towards walking out the door.
"This... this pain makes it harder for me to think. I try to stave it off by exercising, and I try to put my anger somewhere so that I can't hurt the people I care about. I care about you, too, Edmund, and I don't want you to hate me. I already hate myself for this. You think I enjoy being a goddamn stump laying in a bed all day? I don't wanna be a burden to anybody. At least, with you here, I can still talk to my best friend. Don't let me lose that, too. You're all I got." Wolfgang said.
At this point in his speech, Wolfgang began to break in his speech; his voice cracking under the uncomfortable emotions he was sharing with his friend. This was his final attempt to convince his friend not to leave, and there was not much hope left for the broken man if Edmund left.
Fortunately for him, these appeals did indeed pay off, and Edmund no longer began his approach towards the door with intent to leave. Instead, his approach went towards Wolfgang, giving his friend a hug to comfort him from his moment of pain. Reaching his one remaining arm over his friend's shoulder, Wolfgang returned the hug in full.
"Okay, I won't go anywhere. I'm sorry. I'll try to be more patient with you." Edmund said.
"Oh, thank god. Thank god for you, Edmund. You're all I have left." Wolfgang said.
Of course, this was not all that Wolfgang had left in his life to live on for. Deep down within his belly, there was still a raging hatred for the untermensch, any minority or group he perceived as 'inferior'. Though he would not speak it anymore on this day, he would still hold that hatred in his heart, letting it fuel him on.
Why?
Because, sometimes, hatred is a stronger force than love.
Meanwhile, far away from any such affairs regarding race, there is an affair regarding mental health. The location is the Hillwood Home for the Emotionally Troubled, and the subject is the one and only Thaddeus 'Curly' Gammelthorpe, better known to the world as the infamous killer named 'The Freak'.
Being completely paralyzed from the neck down, most of his days are very uneventful. Wrapped up tight in a full body cast, preventing any more injury to come to his destroyed body, he mainly sits in his bed and stares at the TV, watching newscasts play daily; keeping him up with the rest of the world, but bringing him boredom for sure.
Every one and a while, a janitor comes by to tend to his room, cleaning up any sort of dirt and debris that may show. As the Freak never moved much from his spot, maintaining his room was a breeze... for those who could get past being in a room with the man who helped usher in a new wave of supervillains in the country.
This janitor is not mentally strong enough for that. After collecting the wastebin and moving his way to sweeping up the windowsills, the entirety of time during his work left him watched with a pair of piercing black eyes; the soulless creature behind them looking through him like a predator looking at its prey.
The janitor does not know what kind of thoughts run through the Freak's head, nor is he sure he wants to know.
Right now, the Freak's thoughts are what the janitor would look like with his ribcage ripped out and his legs and arms sewn in its place.
Upon swiftly and carefully finishing the last of his tasks, never breaking his eye contact with the Freak, the janitor quickly made his way out of the room, leaving the bedridden and paralyzed patient alone once again and undisturbed by any other guests to leave him entertained.
His solitude, however, does not last long. Coming in the door soon after the janitor was Dr. Peyton Harvey Scott, bringing with him a clipboard with several notes written down on it. Double-checking each of his notes and making sure that he was fully prepared, the doctor made his greeting to the Freak.
"Greetings, doctor. Come for another one of our typical conversations?" The Freak asked.
"Not this time, Curly. This time, I have something a little different in mind." Dr. Scott said.
"How different?"
"You'll see."