Remus' friends didn't stay away for long (how long did it take to hex Snape, really?). They played a fierce game of Exploding Snap on the train (even though it hurt Remus' ears), talked about their summers, and ate enough sweets to feed a small country. Life, Remus decided, was good.
Finally, the train stopped. "Firs' years this way!" Hagrid called, and Remus almost followed him before he realized that he wasn't a first-year.
He wasn't a first-year. He was a second-year. He was no longer the youngest, he was no longer eleven... he'd be thirteen in March!
Remus stared at the flock of uncertain eleven-year-olds. They looked so young and nervous. He remembered arriving at Hogwarts—riding the boats after Peter had anxiously talked his ear off all the way to the castle—forcing himself to think about sheep because he could not bear to think about werewolves—Hagrid nearly giving away Remus' secret on his first day there—Hagrid looking at Remus when he pointed out the Whomping Willow, and poor little Remus having no idea that it was to become his torture chamber...
"Second-years and up ride the carriages," said James, interrupting Remus' thoughts (which had become dark rather quickly). James grabbed Remus by the forearm and dragged him to a carriage.
"What kind of animal is pulling it?" asked Remus, glancing at the empty patch of air in front of the carriage. Something was there, he knew. He could smell it. He could hear it breathing. He figured that it was about the size of a horse, by the volume of the breathing and the scent. And he could see the reins... attached to nothing. Remus didn't know of any sort of horse-sized creature that was invisible.
"They're pulled by magic," said Sirius. "They're self-driving."
Peter crinkled his eyebrows. "They're not," he said... and then he deflated. "Oh. I see. That was sarcasm."
"Wasn't sarcasm, Pete... are you making a joke? There's nothing there."
"There is!" protested Peter. "See it? No, you've got to be pranking me... he's pranking me, isn't he, Remus?"
Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, because he definitely couldn't see it. Perhaps it was a horse under a Disillusionment Charm? Why would the professors put a horse under a Disillusionment Charm? And why could Peter see it, and he couldn't?
His blood suddenly turned to ice. What if only humans could see it? There were animals that Muggles couldn't see... maybe only wizards could see it, and Remus wasn't even technically a wizard...? That would be horrible. His whole life, he'd been telling himself that he wasn't human, but he was a wizard, and he was a person... what if... he wasn't? Not really?
No, that couldn't be it. Because Remus could see Hogwarts, and Hogwarts was only visible to wizards... unless Dumbledore had lifted the charm, just for Remus? No, that was far too complicated! Remus was being irrational.
Remus decided that only humans could see the horses, and Sirius was playing a prank on poor Peter. It was the only explanation. And if only humans could see it, then Remus had to pretend that he could, too. He was a wizard. A wizard. Not human, no... but a wizard.
"Of course there's something there, Pete," he said, giving Sirius a death glare. "Sirius is just trying to make you confused."
"I'm not!" protested Sirius. "I'm actually not. James, you don't see them either, do you?"
"Nope," said James.
"Knock it off," said Remus. "You're scaring Peter."
"Marauder's honor!" said James. "I solemnly swear it, Remus. I only see a carriage with two reins being pulled by magic. Nothing is there."
Remus considered. James would never, ever, ever say "Marauder's honor" if it weren't true. James took the Marauders far too seriously.
"All right, I believe you," said Remus. "That's odd. Peter can see them."
"And you can too," said Peter, and Remus nodded, completely guilty. He hoped he hadn't dug himself into a hole with this one.
"What's it look like?" said James.
Remus looked at Peter.
"It's... like, all skeleton-y," explained Peter. "And greenish. And it has huge wings, like a bat or something... and its skin looks a little like a lizard's."
"Mm-hm," said Remus. "And it's about the size of a horse." That was the only thing he knew.
"Weird," said James. "We should ask the new DAD professor about it. Maybe she knows."
Remus rolled his eyes. "If she recommended Mindfulness Made Easy, James... she probably doesn't."
The Sorting Ceremony was starting, and Remus wanted very much to listen to the Sorting Hat's song. He'd zoned out a little last time due to the panic of being in a completely new place (and all the thinking about sheep that he'd been doing), so this was going to be a brand-new experience. The Sorting Hat opened its mouth, and Remus shushed James, who was now detailing the aspects of his new Nimbus to Sirius.
Oh, I see you're all quite nervous
to make friends and learn some magic.
But put me on, don't be afraid—
I'm nothing more than fabric!
I'll look inside your little minds,
I'll tell you what I see.
I'll find the House that fits for you—
the place where you should be.
I'll put the ones in Ravenclaw
who seek to strengthen mind,
I'll put the ones in Slytherin
who seek to only find.
I'll put the ones in Gryffindor
who seek despite their fear,
I'll put the ones in Hufflepuff
who seek with allies near.
Wherever I may put you,
and whatever you may seek,
I've never made mistakes before,
so listen when I speak.
And have some fun this year, but
don't forget the golden rule:
For heaven's sake, kids, turn in your homework. I've had far too many complaints from Professor McGonagall that students are flat-out refusing to do homework, and I'm sick of it. I'm only a Hat. I can't fix that for her or for you. You need to learn responsibility so that you won't grow up homeless and end up alone and sad. Follow directions. Do your work. It's not that hard. Gosh, even I could do that if I wanted to, and I'm only a Hat. I come up with this stupid song every year without fail. Take some responsibility. Sheesh. If I can write a rhyming song like this and memorize it, then you can do some homework. I don't even have a brain, for Pete's sake. Gosh. Anyway.
Make friends, work hard, have fun, enjoy
your seven years at school!
Remus looked at Dumbledore, who was smiling and nodding along to the music as he casually conducted with two fingers. "Wise words," he announced. "Let the Sorting commence!"
Remus leaned over to James and Sirius and whispered, "I think you two are the reason the Hat added that verse. When was the last time you did homework?"
"What's homework?" asked James.
Remus didn't know how to respond to that extremely stupid comment, so he simply rolled his eyes and watched the Sorting. "It's different, isn't it," he mused aloud, "to be on this end? I was so nervous last year that I hardly paid any attention at all."
"Me, either," Peter admitted. "And it was even harder to pay attention when you started spouting facts about sheep."
Remus laughed. "Sorry about that, Peter. I didn't know I was saying any of that out loud."
"I'm honored to be the first person your age that you'd ever met," said Peter, grinning, "but it was a little odd at first."
Suddenly, McGonagall called a name that Remus had never expected to hear. "Black, Regulus!"
Remus' head swiveled towards the small boy who looked exactly as Sirius had in first year—now, of course, Sirius was slouching a little more and was always smiling, with messier hair and robes due to the influence of James. But this boy was a miniature Sirius, except prim and proper. "Who... Sirius, is that a relative of yours?" Remus asked, watching the boy sit on the stool.
Sirius looked rather constipated. "Yes. My brother. He'll be a Slytherin, just you watch."
"SLYTHERIN!" called the Hat only a split second after it touched Regulus' head.
"See? He's an idiot. We're nothing alike."
Remus watched Regulus, who stood up gracefully and walked to the Slytherin table—he didn't make a sound, and his expression didn't change at all. There was a smattering of clapping from the Slytherins, but it was nothing like Sirius' boisterous shouts and leaps after he'd been Sorted. Regulus sat down next to a girl with blonde hair whom Remus recognized to be Narcissa Black. Narcissa smiled gently and put a hand on Regulus' shoulder. Regulus' expression still did not change.
"You've never really mentioned him," said Remus.
"No, I haven't. Because we're not alike. At all." Sirius' expression hardened. "Look, Lupin, I don't want to be associated with him. And he's made it clear that he doesn't want to be associated with me."
"Sure," said Remus.
To be completely honest, Remus was a bit afraid of Sirius when he got like this. Sirius could be rather intense. But then James poked Sirius on the arm with his fork, Sirius laughed, and the spell was broken: Sirius' black mood dissipated as soon as it had formed. "Hey, look, it's a Ragfarn," said Sirius, chipper once again. "Dad works with one at the Ministry. I've seen him around; he's not too bad."
Remus remembered Mr. Ragfarn from the Werewolf Registry and cringed. The boy in question looked too much like Mr. Ragfarn for Remus' comfort, and Mr. Ragfarn was definitely not a nice person. But Remus knew he shouldn't judge people on the basis of blood; that would be extremely hypocritical.
The Sorting Ceremony dragged on. By the time it was finished, there were quite a few new Gryffindors. James and Sirius couldn't stop staring, so Remus leaned over and whispered, "Don't you dare corrupt them."
"Corrupt them?" said James. "Never! You wound me, Loopy. I only want to... you know... maybe pull a few jokes on them. Harmless jokes, you understand."
"Perhaps hex them," added Sirius. "They're so young. Nervous. Impressionable."
"We won't kill them, but we might come close."
"Scare them half to death, maybe."
"Put bats in their beds."
"Put Peeves in their pajamas."
"Put trout in their trousers."
"Put frogs in their food."
A first-year with red frizzy hair stared at Sirius, wide-eyed. He opened his mouth and... squeaked. Sirius and James erupted into laughter. "He sounds like... a mouse!" said James. "A mouse!"
The first-year looked embarrassed and teary. Remus' heart broke.
"That wasn't nice," Remus said quietly, but no one heard him. And he didn't particularly want to work up the courage to say it again. So he settled for giving the first-year an encouraging smile... but the first-year turned away, probably thinking that Remus was teasing him, too. A disapproving Puttle, the Gryffindor Prefect who was sitting by the first-years, gave the Marauders a death glare. Remus cowered.
Then he sat back and waited for Dumbledore's speech. There was no use in feeling bad about everything. He couldn't let anything ruin his evening—after all, it was probably his last first day. There was no way he'd last this year without his friends finding out, was there?
As he contemplated that, he noticed that Dumbledore was standing in front of the crowds of students, smiling serenely. The talking died down until there was complete silence. "Good evening, Hogwarts!" said Dumbledore grandly. "I welcome all new students here, and I welcome all old students back. Before we begin the feast, a few reminders. First, the Forbidden Forest is... say it with me..."
"Forbidden," muttered most of the student population.
"ENCOURAGED!" shouted James and Sirius.
"Most everybody is correct," said Dumbledore. "It is forbidden."
"You should have told us!" shouted James. "We would have stopped having tea parties in there much earlier than this."
"Now you know," said Dumbledore. McGonagall looked like she was having a seizure, but Dumbledore was not fazed at all. "On that note, does anyone know what the Whomping Willow does? Say it with me... the Whomping Willow..."
"Whomps," muttered most of the students.
"GIVES GREAT HUGS!" shouted James.
"MAKES TEA FOR THE TEA PARTIES!" yelled Sirius.
"It does not," said Dumbledore. "I do not recommend drinking anything the Whomping Willow may offer you. And I don't know much about hugs, but I know the Whomping Willow does not give them."
James and Sirius were laughing so hard that they almost fell out of their chairs. Remus wasn't exactly sure why Dumbledore humored their antics, but he looked to be having nearly as much fun as they were.
"Third-years and up are permitted to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. No magic in the corridors. Avoid antagonizing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Speaking of which, I'd like to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Pensley."
Remus looked at the staff table, where a very slim woman was sitting. She was quite tall, was wearing an extraordinary amount of make-up, and had very wispy blonde hair. Her robes were far too tight for her body, and they were pink with orange polka-dots. Her heels were impossibly high. She had no eyebrows—at least, none that Remus could see.
"Professor Pensley?" said Remus. "D'you think she wrote Mindfulness Made Easy? That was Joy Pensley, wasn't it?"
"Leave it to Remus to remember the authors of all of his textbooks," said James, even though he probably remembered, too. James never forgot anything. "But honestly—she looks like the sort to write something like that."
"Look how her wispy hair's flying all about her face like that," said Sirius. "She really needs to tie it back or something."
"It's just feeling the energy of life," said James wisely, and Remus nearly spit out his drink.
Dumbledore smiled, oblivious to their antics. "Without further ado," he said, "enjoy your meal!"
And Remus did, but it wasn't just because of the food. It was mostly because of James' jokes, Sirius' contagious laughter, and Peter's peppiness. It was indeed very good to be back... and the food was good, too.
The weekend passed quickly. Remus mostly watched James fly his broomstick—the boy was practicing endlessly for Quidditch tryouts. It was fun and all, but Remus was incredibly happy to be starting classes once again once Monday finally arrived.
Potions was first, and Remus didn't even mind how much Slughorn was looking at him. He didn't even mind the fact that every single ingredient that they were using was burning his nose (he'd lost some of the tolerance over the summer, he thought). It was good to be back, though it admittedly got significantly less good when Remus realized that he could taste the frog legs in the air.
"Words cannot describe how happy I am that second-years don't have to take Flying Class," Remus said to Peter, who nodded eagerly. James looked personally affronted, but he couldn't argue—he was currently in the midst of a very fierce ladle-fight with Sirius, and the tiniest distraction was sure to cause his demise.
Charms was next, and Flitwick complimented Remus on his Levitation Charm when they were reviewing first-year material. Remus grinned. He'd been practicing magic whenever he had a free moment with his father (which was frequently, seeing as Remus' home life was characterized by idleness). Remus almost considered doing the charm nonverbally, just to show off, but he decided that might be a bit arrogant of him.
They had Astronomy third period, and Sidus was disgruntled about the daytime class. But he told them that, this year, they weren't going to have to do drawings of the full moon—in second year, they were going to start focusing more on constellations. Remus was so happy that he probably could have flown if he'd jumped off of the Astronomy tower.
And then, it was time for the class that Remus and his friends had been looking forward to all day: DAD.
Remus kind of dreaded DAD, actually. He was excited to see what the new professor was all about, but... she'd never met Remus, and she was probably going to stare... or ask him questions... keep him after class... Remus remembered meeting Professor Questus for the first time and suddenly dreaded DAD even more. He resolved to avoid throwing pieces of parchment at her if she was Disillusioned. Right then and there, he made a vow to stay silent, keep to himself, and be an obedient, invisible werewolf. He could do that, couldn't he?
Remus and his friends arrived at the DAD classroom; as soon as Remus stepped into the classroom, he couldn't help but imagine Professor Questus' horrified reaction.
It was destroyed. Completely. The walls had murals of ocean scenes on them. The desks were arranged into a circle instead of in neat little rows. The professor was sitting at a desk... just like everyone else's!... instead of at her own. There were posters on the wall, but Remus couldn't quite make them out. And there were tiny hearts hanging from the ceiling. What's more, the ceiling had messages appearing on it every so often in hideous purple letters. Remus tried to read them. You're special... you can do it... believe in yourself... persevere...
"Er," said Peter.
"I think I'm going to vomit," observed James.
"I... almost want to go home," said Sirius.
Remus covered his face with both hands and groaned.
"More new arrivals!" said Pensley. Her voice was high and breathy, a little like an asthmatic soprano singer. She smelled of peaches, and the rest of the room smelled of... something very, very strong and very, very artificial. Remus looked around. There were scented candles all over the place. Of course there were. Remus hated scented candles. He was already starting to get a headache from the intense, conflicting scents... and there was classical music playing in the background, which certainly didn't help the sensory barrage. Remus sort of wanted to cry.
"Don't tell me your names," said Pensley eagerly. "I want to guess later, when we're all here. Have a seat!"
There were only four open seats, one of which was next to Professor Pensley. James and Peter flew into the open seats closest to them, and Remus and Sirius had a silent scuffle for the last remaining open seat that wasn't anywhere near Professor Pensley. "I had the unpleasant seat last year," Remus reminded him in hushed tones. "You three sat together, and I sat near the front with Lily Evans. It's your turn, mate."
"You wish," said Sirius.
"Git," said Remus after Sirius had pushed him away and stolen the seat. Remus may have been a hulking beast on the full moon, but his vaguely-birdlike daytime strength left much to be desired. He made a face at his friends and retreated to the seat next to Pensley. Evans was on his other side... again.
Life was terrible.
"Alright-y, I think everyone's here," tinkled Professor Pensley. It was weird, having a teacher teach as she was sitting right next to him. Remus wondered if it was too late to drop out of Hogwarts and be homeschooled. "My name is Professor Faith. Not Professor Pensley. I think it's almost metaphorical to combine the professional title with the intimate first name, don't you?"
Remus wanted to gag.
"Now, my name's not really Faith. But I change it every so often to suit my personality. Yesterday, it was Confidence. Today, it's Faith, because I can't help but have faith in the future of the wizarding world as I look at all of your smiling faces."
There's a curse on this position, Remus desperately reminded himself. There's a curse on this position. Maybe she won't even last the year.
"After all, as Juliet once said to Romeo... what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet! You do have homework from me tonight: a ten-inch essay about whether you agree or disagree with this view." Sirius and James groaned in perfect unison, but Pensley cheerfully ignored them. "Before I tell you any more about myself, I'd like to find out some things about you. First, I want to try to guess your names."
Remus perked up at that. She had heard about Remus, and she knew that there was a second-year werewolf in Gryffindor named Remus Lupin. Dumbledore had made it a point to alert all the staff personally, so there was no way she didn't know. To guess someone as Remus was essentially to guess them a werewolf, and Remus was curious to see how that would play out.
Pensley started with Peter. "You look like a Leonardo," she said, smiling.
"Er," said Peter. "I'm Peter Pettigrew, actually."
"Well, your name on the inside is Leonardo, my boy. From hence forth, you shall be called Leonardo."
Remus cringed. Was she really going to give everyone a new name? I should have listened to my parents and stayed home, he thought. This is very, very bad.
"And you, dear, look like a Meg," Pensley continued, pointing to Lily. "A gorgeous Meg."
"Lily Evans," snipped Evans. Clearly, she was as unhappy about all this as Remus was.
"Meg it is. Are you Maximus?"
"No," said Sirius. "Sirius Black."
"Hello, Maximus. And you..." She pointed to James and pressed one slender finger to her chin. Her nails were magicked to have floating images of hearts on the surfaces, and Remus gagged. "Your name is Griffin. A strong, courageous Griffin!"
"That is my name, actually!" said James. "Griffin. Griffin Door."
The class tittered, but the joke was lost on Professor Pensley. "Oh! I knew I'd get one right. The name of your spirit, young Griffin, perfectly matches the name that your parents have given you. Your parents must be very wise people."
"They are," said James, nodding.
Pensley pointed to a small boy from Ravenclaw. "Kenneth," she decided. The boy opened his mouth in protest, but she moved on.
Remus was last. "You must be Henry, then!" said Pensley.
"Remus," Remus told her reluctantly. He watched her face, but it did not seem to change now that she knew that he was a werewolf.
"Remus. A good name," she said thoughtfully. She pronounced Remus' name like some sort of sweet that she was trying to savor. "Good R sound, Remus. Starts at the back of the throat... moves to the lips... ends in the dead center. A satisfying name." Remus was uncomfortable. "Remus," she said again. "Yes, it suits you. Remus. Remus. Remus. I've never met a Remus before, you know. But I'm still calling you Henry sometimes... only when I feel it suits you better. Names can change, you know! I change mine whenever my soul tells me to do so!"
Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The fact that she was in the desk right next to him was simply too much. He hated her. He HATED her.
But he shouldn't hate people. Hatred was reserved for full moons and full moons only. He tried to breathe in order to calm down: in through his nose, out through his mouth...
...And then he immediately started choking on the intensity of the scented candles.
"Oh, dear. A spirit must have flown into your mouth," said Pensley. She patted his back a bit, and Remus scrunched up his shoulders in discomfort.
"Well. Let me tell you all a bit about myself." Pensley talked with her hands a lot, and her desk was so close to Remus that she occasionally hit him on the shoulder as she frantically gesticulated. The girl on Pensley's other side, Susanna (whom Pensley had christened "Georgette"), looked just as uncomfortable. "The book I'm sure you all enjoyed, Mindfulness Made Easy, was actually mine! I wrote it last year."
She smiled, clearly expecting people to be impressed. No one was.
Well, Remus was sort of impressed, but only because he hadn't thought it possible for one person to be so incredibly annoying. It was astounding, really.
Pensley kept talking, apparently oblivious to her own annoying-ness. "I grew up in London, but I moved to the country when I was still young. I am forty years old, but still as young as ever!" She laughed, even though it hadn't been funny. "This year, I aspire to make things as comfortable and friendly as possible. From what I've heard about your last professor, you all deserve a bit of a change!"
Goodness, did everyone have a bone to pick with Professor Questus? Besides, if Pensley was trying to make Remus comfortable, then she was failing miserably. Remus reckoned he would walk on rusty nails than spend another minute in this horrific class.
"We're going to focus on our minds this year—after all, a ready mind is the best weapon. Eh?"
Remus figured that she had probably been a Ravenclaw. That made sense. Ravenclaws had a bit of a reputation.
"Specifically, we'll be practicing feeling the energy of the universe around us, which will help us fight our inner demons—and once our inner demons are defeated, we can start defeating the demons on the outside that threaten our physical health."
She was definitely a Ravenclaw.
Pensley clapped her hands and smiled a horrible, crocodile-esque smile. "The first thing you're going to do is build a sculpture of something that scares you. That will help you face your inner demons, which will later assist you in fighting them!" She waved her wand, and a large clump of clay appeared on everyone's desk. "I'll turn up the music. Does anyone know this composer?"
It was Tchaikovsky. Remus typically didn't mind classical music, but it was simply too much sound at the moment. He wished she would turn it off so that he could actually focus.
"It's Tchaikovsky!" she said. "The Sleeping Beauty prologue. Have fun, you all! I'll be doing my own."
Remus watched her roll up her sleeves delicately and then plunge both hands into the clay. His classmates did the same. Remus glanced at Sirius, who was laughing at him. He made a face.
What was he supposed to build? His Boggart was the full moon, but he couldn't very well make that in public. He couldn't make a wolf, either, even though wolves scared him. And how was he supposed to depict society's hatred towards his kind with... clay? What else scared him? Try as he might, he couldn't think of anything else that truly scared him—nothing could compare to the horror he felt as the shafts of moonlight fell through the boarded-up window, the pure revulsion and shivery lurches of fear that cascaded through him as his frantic heartbeat became the only sound in the room, the frozen terror in the moments just before the indescribable pain struck his every nerve... alas, none of that was easily sculpted.
He could make a crystal ball, he supposed. He'd come up with a rather brilliant lie last year about being afraid of crystal balls because he was afraid of the inevitable... but he didn't want to stand out. Afraid of the inevitable? What kind of sculpture was that?
"Remus," whispered Professor Pensley, and Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. His first name sounded so foreign in her mouth. He'd almost rather she called him Henry. "Why aren't you making anything? Surely there's something you're afraid of?"
"There's plenty I'm afraid of," confessed Remus, just as quietly. There was enough talking in the room—and enough loud classical music—that he was confident no one could hear him but Pensley. "But none of it is... sculptable."
"Abstract!" squealed Pensley, and Remus wanted to hit her.
In through his nose. Out through his mouth.
"Sure," he said, and then he immediately began lumping the clay in an unrecognizable shape.
Remus could only imagine Professor Questus' expression if he knew about all this nonsense.
After about ninety-six years, the class period was finally drawing to a close. Remus had been dutifully rolling his clay over and over and over again the whole time, making it more of a shapeless lump and less of... anything else, really.
"Time to share!" said Pensley. "Quickly! You first, Maximus."
Sirius grinned. "I'm afraid of clay," he said. He hadn't done anything with his clay. "It's gooey and gross."
"Good!" said Pensley. "So candid! So honest! So clever!"
Griffin (James) said that he was afraid of Sirius. He had made a very unflattering sculpture of him. Leonardo (Peter) professed that he was afraid of dragons, and had made a very good dragon sculpture. Pensley, predictably, adored it. Meg (Lily) had made a broomstick. Remus hadn't known that she was afraid of flying, but he supposed it was a reasonable fear.
It was soon Remus' turn, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "This is my sculpture. It represents the inevitability of tragedy, the unpredictability of life, and suffering in general."
He hadn't wanted to stand out. But it was the only thing he could think of that merited "abstract".
Pensley squealed. "Now this is creativity!" she tinkled, flapping her hands wildly and smiling.
Remus knew that she was probably going to try to keep him after class (she'd probably have some annoying questions about his lycanthropy—or worse, she'd want to discuss his sculpture), so he ducked out the door before anyone else could and then sprinted down the corridor to wait for his friends before she could even say anything to him.
His first day with Professor Questus had gone better than that, and Professor Questus had kept him after and sharply lectured him for what felt like hours.
Typically, Remus was very good at not-hating-people, not-being-angry-at-people, and not-murdering-people, but it looked like all of that was going to be ruined by the end of this year.
AN: Pensley is a combination of Trelawney, Lockhart, and a teacher I had in high school. She is the product of my pain, and writing her makes me want to vomit. Hope you enjoy, because I sure didn't!