The All-American Reject
By stella maynard
Disclaimer: No. Non. Nein. Nothing. Rien. Zilch. Nada. Let's move on, shall we? And everything you recognize from the show (specifically episode 3x20, a.k.a. "Say Goodnight, Gracie," from which I take a lot - really way too much - of dialogue) belongs to not me.
Author's Note: Warning: I think I slightly mess with the timeline. I hope you can figure it out. If not, let me know so I can try to clear it up. Also, watch out for language. I censor myself for the most part, but not always. (Plus, I, like Jess, am from New York. I curse and I'm pretty certain Jess would too in the situations I'll be putting him in for pretty much the rest of my story.) And another note...when I get around to revising these chapters, it will hopefully be a lot less like the actual episode. However, that won't be for a while. Sorry.
Chapter 6: Yesterday
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Jess forced himself to remain focused on his breathing, drag after drag, cigarette after cigarette. Finally, after flicking the last butt into the lake, he allowed himself to think.
He'd messed up. Oh, how he'd messed up. If it had just been the fight with Dean, it wouldn't have been so bad. But why did he have to push Rory so hard? He'd always been the instigator of anything between them, besides that first kiss and a couple of others later on. But he'd push her farther, gently, persistently. Eventually, she always gave in. She wanted to. It excited him to know that they were doing things she and Dean never had, that he was the first one to make her blush that way, gasp in surprise and pleasure. He knew she was almost ready to take that final step. He could sense it when she looked at him, her blue eyes darker than normal. She was just waiting for the right time, the right place.
And he'd screwed it up. He supposed if he was looking for an answer to why he pushed her so hard, his self-searching would reveal that he was trying to prove he could still do one thing right. And what do you know? He messed it up. Jess Mariano was a complete failure.
Jess pushed himself up off the bridge and looked down at his reflection. A dark figure looked back at him, surrounded by discarded cigarette butts, its face mostly hidden in the shadows created by the bright moon.
He turned his back on the figure and walked away.
Jess ran around the diner. He was the only one out front handling the busier than usual lunch rush. Caesar was in the kitchen and seemed to be attempting the Guinness record for the longest time taken to make a cheeseburger. He had a really good chance of getting it. Luke was MIA.
Jess dropped a chicken Caesar salad in front of Taylor, who frowned. "Young man –"
"Not now, Taylor," he said tersely, cutting off the town selectman just before the woman at the table by the door once again yelled her demand for ham.
"Caesar, how long does it take to make a stupid hamburger? And where's the ham I've been waiting for? If I don't get that cow pretending to be a lady some ham now, I'm fairly certain she's going to eat me."
The cook shrugged. "No ham," he said casually.
"What? We just got a shipment yesterday."
Another shrug. "No ham."
"Well then get out your sewing kit and starting stitching slices of bacon together. One way or another, Miss Piggy is getting ham."
Stalking over to the man by himself occupying the table for four, he demanded, "You choose yet?"
"What? Oh, um…" The man look startled. "More coffee."
Jess rolled his eyes. "You got it. Glad to make your dining dreams come true."
Behind the counter, Jess turned to Dave, who was wearing a suit and feverishly reading a large book. "Hey, man. You want something to eat?"
Dave looked up, his eyes bloodshot and slightly wild. "No, no. No. Coffee. I just need more coffee." Jess raised his eyebrows but said nothing, simply refilling the mug. Dave blinked and stared at him with a somewhat more focused expression. "Jess. You read. Does 'Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done' ring any bells?"
After a moment's thought, he shook his head. "Sounds old though," he added.
"I'm reading the Bible. How much older can I get? Does it sound biblical to you?"
Again, the eyebrows rose. "Do I look like I'm familiar with the Bible?"
Blink. "Hmm. Fair point. Let me know if you think of anything, 'kay?" And with that, his head fell back down closer to the large book.
At that moment, Caesar finished making the hamburger, which Jess promptly took to the mafia table, dodging the people impatiently waiting for a seat. As he passed by the door, the woman screeched, "Ham!"
After chucking the plate in front of somebody at the table, he stalked over towards the door, more than ready to give the demanding woman a piece of his mind. However, as he was heading over there, the door flung open, the bells above tinkling, a scowling Luke entering.
Jess strode over to him. "Where've you been, Luke?" he demanded. "You were supposed to be back from fishing an hour ago. But, no, it's just been me and Caesar, who's decided to join the slow food movement," the teenager continued, ranting. "The place is packed. That lady is ready to kill for ham. Dave's been here since I opened, downing coffee and Biblical quotations. And that guy," he gestured towards the man at the table by the door, "has been taking up a table for four and just orders coffee. So I can't turn over the table and collect my tips –"
"You mean my tips," Luke interrupted.
"What?" asked Jess, walking over with the coffee pot to Gypsy who was waving her mug around.
Luke followed. "I didn't go fishing this morning, Jess. I got a call. Somebody named John. He's the father of Kyle. John got home at four this morning and found out his son Kyle threw a party a few days ago. There was a fight. Stop me if this sounds familiar." Jess scowled. "This fight went through the living room, through the front door, and right through the fence. Now, I don't know John and I certainly don't know Kyle, but I do know someone who leaves disaster behind him. He's a surly, James Dean/rebel-without-a-cause wannabe who is going to be paying me back for the next five years!" His voice rose in volume steadily. The whole diner stared and Miss Patty and Babette whispered frantically to one another.
Jess rolled his eyes. "Dean started it."
"I don't care what Dean did! I care what you did! Why were you fighting, Jess?"
"Dean was fighting, too."
"Dean was already at the house when I got there. Dean had already worked out a payment plan. Dean was acting like an adult!"
"Jeez. Dean's whipped. He'll make an excellent pet to some lucky lady someday."
Luke glowered. "Shut up. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to go to school. You're going to come back and work here. You're going to give me all your tips. You're going to do your homework and go to sleep. Then we're going to start all over the next day. Here's what you're not going to do. You're not going to fight with Dean. You're not going to skip class. You're not going to do anything that Miss Manners might find offensive. You got it?" he barked.
Jess glared. "I'm taking my break. You might want to get that woman some ham before she starts throwing things."
With that, he walked out of the diner, slamming the door shut behind him, but not before he heard a loud sigh he was sure was heaved by his uncle.
Not really seeing where he was going, he headed to his bridge and just stared at the water for a while. His mind wandered, for how long he did not know. Absentmindedly, he reached into his jacket pocket, searching for his pack of cigarettes. Only two were left. He smoked both of them before deciding to head back into town to buy some more.
Walking back out into Stars Hollow, Jess did not notice his attire did not stand out as much as it usually did. Most of the town was slowly entering the little church. Everybody was dressed in black. He headed over in that general direction, pulling a cigarette out of a brand new pack and lighting up.
He stopped in front of Weston's. Reading the noticed on the door, he surmised that Fran, the elderly owner, had passed away and that all the people streaming into the church were going to her funeral. Jess felt a twinge of sadness. He hadn't actually known the woman, but she was one of the few who hadn't hated the sight of him, at least once she'd gotten used to him. She actually had smiled at him whenever Rory had insisted they enter, craving a round cake, the roundest cakes Stars Hollow had to offer.
Jess finished his cigarette, dropped it on the ground and crushed the butt with his shoe. He then waited for the streets to empty before making his way to the church himself. Thankful that he was already in black, he opened the door and stood in the back. Nobody noticed him enter.
Eyes taking in the room, he noticed nearly every town member was in attendance. Dean sat in one of the last rows, his arm around a blonde girl. Miss Patty was loudly detailing her sex life with her second husband to Sookie and Lorelai. Rory, sitting quietly next to her mother, blew her nose. He felt a twist of guilt in his stomach.
He hadn't talked to her since Kyle's party a few nights ago. He'd tried, he really did. When he'd seen her passing by the diner the next day, he'd attempted to go after her. First try, he made it past the counter. Second try, the door. The third try, he actually made it out of the diner before he realized he had no idea what to say to her. I'm sorry I'm such a jackass? That excuse is only acceptable a few times and Jess was pretty sure he had already reached his limit. No, that wouldn't do.
Just as the service began, Luke, in a black suit, slipped in and stood next to his nephew, raising his eyebrow at him, but not saying anything. The two stood side by side in silence for the entire service.
When it seemed that everybody was standing up to walk with Fran one final time around town, Jess slipped out the back. He crossed the street and slipped into a shadowed alley where he could still see the door. He would wait until Rory appeared. He had to talk to her. He had no idea what he would say, but that hardly mattered.
People slowly emerged, following the casket. Sookie and Lorelai dashed off to talk to one of the pallbearers, while Rory stayed amongst the crowd. Jess started to walk towards her but quickly retreated when he saw Dean appear by her. She greeted him with a smile and he led her over to near Jess's hiding spot, ensuring he could hear every word that was said.
Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot, apparently very excited. "Okay. Um, are you ready?" he queried.
Confused, Rory repeated, "Ready? Ready for what? Dean, what's going on?"
The tall boy leaned forward and lowered his voice a little. "I asked Lindsay to marry me. And she said yes!"
Jess rolled his eyes. Rory just continued to stare at him, her mouth constantly opening to say something, but nothing would come out.
"Well, say something," he urged.
"Why?" she sputtered.
Now it was Dean who was confused. "Because I love her."
"No, I mean, why now? You're just eighteen, you have college in the fall." She looked up at him, worried, "You're still going to go to college, right?" Her panic increased tenfold, unknowingly voicing Jess's thoughts, as she demanded, "Oh my god! She's pregnant!"
Dean frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm still going. Lindsay's coming with me. And no, she's not pregnant. Come on, Rory."
She did not appear to be listening. "But you should be concentrating on that for now. You two should just keep dating. Dating's fun."
"Wow," he deadpanned. "Not what I was expecting. You couldn't just congratulate me, could you?"
"No, I mean, I can, I do. I want you to be happy. I was just surprised. You – "
"You know, you broke my heart when you dumped me for that jerk. I didn't know if I'd be happy again. Lindsay makes me happy. I'm sorry that you have a crappy relationship with Jess and that he treats you like dirt."
"Jess does not treat me like dirt," she argued.
"Whatever. I just wanted you to hear it from me. You know, before it got around. So now you know. Um, have a nice life, Rory."
"Jess does not treat me like dirt!" Rory yelled at Dean's retreating back. He made no response.
Jess watched, unable to move, as Rory continued to stand immobile for several minutes before walking quickly to rejoin the mourners. Letting out a tremendous sigh, he slumped to the ground in the alley. He couldn't believe it. For once, he was in complete agreement with Dean, the idiotic buffoon. He did treat Rory like dirt. But she defended him. He didn't deserve her. He could only drag her down.
Pulling himself up, he returned to the diner, avoiding the funeral crowd. When he was closer to Luke's, he could see that his uncle hadn't returned to reopen the diner. However, there was someone sitting on the steps, apparently waiting to come in.
Jess scowled and called out, "We're closed. There's a sign right behind you. Learn to read. Get hooked on phonics and all that." He got closer and recognized the man from that morning. "You're the loser coffee guy."
The guy stood up. "Well, not as cool as Bono, but I'll take it."
"What do you want? We're still clo-"
"I'm your father," the man practically spat out.
Jess stared, sure he had heard wrong. "What?"
"Your father. Jimmy."
"Are you sure?"
Flustered, Jimmy repeated in disbelief, "Am I su- yes, I'm sure. I'm the guy who ran out on you a couple days after you were born. I didn't mean to just surprise you like this. I thought Luke would've told you by now. Judging by the staring and frowning, he didn't."
Completely overwhelmed, Jess verified, "Luke knew?"
"Yeah, he came to find me earlier this afternoon and threatened to smash my head into a wall of my choice."
Not having the brain capacity to truly digest all this information, Jess simply nodded. "You want some coffee?"
"Oh, um, okay."
Jess led the way into the diner and turned on the radio. He then poured some stale coffee for the man claiming to be his father and brought it over to him before seating himself in a chair at the same table.
They continued to look at one another in silence, only the quiet radio in the background providing any noise. Suddenly, Jimmy pushed his chair back, causing it to topple over. "I gotta go," he stated abruptly then dashed out of the diner.
Jess watched him leave, not knowing what to do.
What was he supposed to do? Jess lay thinking, in the dark, ignoring his uncle's snores across the room. He'd screwed up worse than he had in a while. Rory. Graduation. Luke. His…dad. How weird to think about it. He didn't know what to make of the man. Why had he showed up after all these years? And Luke knew it was him but didn't say anything?
He was going to have to have a chat with Uncle Luke in the morning.
"Jess. Get up."
The teenager mumbled incoherently and turned to face the other side of his bed.
"Jess, come on. Get up already."
He pulled a pillow on top of his head.
"I know you're awake."
Suddenly, he was surrounded by cold air. Luke had pulled the sheets off him and now proceeded to shake him awake.
"What the hell, Luke?" he grumbled, moving his arm around in an attempt to find his alarm clock. "It's…" he squinted, "six something in the morning."
"Yeah, well, you owe me several years work, so you might as well get started," Luke replied gruffly. "You have ten minutes to make yourself pretty and get down there before I sic Lorelai on you." He then pulled him off the bed and pushed him towards the bathroom.
Stumbling, Jess muttered, "Jeez. All right, I'm going."
Ten minutes later, he found himself in the diner, ordering pad in hand. Refilling cups was pretty mindless work, something he could handle at this ridiculous hour. Kirk, however, was another story.
"I think I'd like an egg and cheese omelet." Jess wrote it down. "Wait, mother made me scrambled eggs yesterday and I found a website that said eating eggs too many times a week is unhealthy. And I'm really trying to stay in shape. It's why I practice yoga every morning before coming here. I find it gives me a good sweat sheen and it releases pheromones. Of course, this means –"
"Kirk!" Jess glared menacingly.
"Toast with strawberry jam," he gulped.
"You got it."
He turned to tell Caesar the order and found Luke standing right behind him. "What do you want?" he demanded.
Luke ignored his comment. "You've been here for an hour. You can go now."
"What? I thought I had years of servitude to work off," he reminded his uncle sarcastically.
"You do. But you also have school, which begins in fifteen minutes."
"Nope."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Is today a holiday?"
"Nope."
"You're just not going?"
The grunts continued. "Yup."
"Jess, you need to go to class."
"Why?"
"So you can graduate."
He shrugged. "Not happening," he said nonchalantly.
Blinking and taking a step back, Luke demanded, "What?"
"I'm not graduating," he explained, slowly, as if to a child.
Luke let out a strangled sort of yell, before calling towards the kitchen, "Caesar, watch the place!" He then roughly put his hand on his nephew's shoulder and steered him back up to the apartment.
Once inside, Jess threw off the arm with a snarl. Luke didn't seem to notice.
"What do you mean you're not graduating?" he asked.
Jess rolled his eyes. "I am not graduating," he repeated.
"Well, why not?"
"I don't know, something about not showing up enough."
"Jess," Luke sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table, "we had a deal. You could come back and you would graduate. It's simple."
"Yeah, well, life doesn't always go according to plan."
His uncle glanced up, his eyes suspicious. "When did you find out?"
He shrugged. "Last week."
Luke looked overwhelmed again. "Last week?" he repeated. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jess glared. "I don't know. Why didn't you tell me my father came to see me?" he demanded harshly.
The older man look defeated again. "You know?"
"Yeah, no thanks to you. He came back after the funeral."
"Jess, Jimmy Mariano is a useless asshole who left you and your mother the same day you were born to run away to California. He deserted you for Venice Beach."
"I know who he is, thanks."
"He doesn't deserve to have you in his life. He'd just mess you up and bring you down the wrong path. He'd keep you from your future," he said sadly. But then his mind seemed to retrace his steps to the original topic. "But you did that on your own. How can you not be graduating? You've got to be the smartest kid in that hellhole."
"I'm no Doogie Howser, but I'm no sheep either."
Luke stood up. "I'm going to go talk with the principal," he stated walking to the door. "What's his name again?"
"I dunno."
"You don't…" he trailed off disbelievingly. "Okay, Jess, you stay here. I'll be back in an hour. We'll get you summer classes or something."
The teenager moved to lie on his bed. "Good luck," he scoffed. "I already tried that."
Luke's clearly waning patience snapped. "Tough luck, Jess. You're graduating. Or you're gone." He slammed the door behind him.
An hour and a half later found Jess still lying on his bed, awaiting Luke's return. It didn't seem like he'd be coming back anytime soon. He knew it wasn't worth the trouble. He wasn't worth the trouble.
Making up his mind, Jess rolled to the floor and looked under his bed and pulled out his duffle bag. He threw in things he thought he'd need. Some clothes. His hair products. A bunch of paperbacks.
He had to leave. He'd messed everything up too much. He couldn't repeat senior year while Rory was off at Yale. She deserved more than a guy who couldn't even graduate from the school where Kirk received a diploma. He didn't even know if she could forgive him. But if she did, he'd still only hold her back. No, he had to go.
Luke. Luke didn't ask for this. Jess knew Liz only called Luke after putting him on the bus to Stars Hollow. But he never tried to make him feel unwelcome. He'd done his best. And what did he do? He gave his uncle a constant headache and a big bill.
Only one thing left to do.
Jess pulled on his leather jacket as he looked out the window to see if Luke was on his way back yet. All clear. Shouldering his bag, he looked around the apartment one last time before turning his back on the place and running through the back so as not to let any of the diner customers see him. He ran to the bus that was pulling up across the street and hopped on, moving to the back.
On to Hartford.
He pulled out a book and started reading, ignoring the other passengers on the bus. That is, until he felt a set of eyes boring into him, forcing him to glance up.
There she was. As their eyes made contact, Rory blushed slightly and glanced down. Jess thought she'd continue to ignore him until he saw her bend down to grab her yellow backpack and weave her way towards him. He hastily dropped his book into his bag, which he kicked beneath the seat.
She sat next to him. "Hi," she said awkwardly.
"Hey," he responded with difficulty. He hadn't planned on seeing her. He'd thought a clean break would be best. Maybe if they left things the way they were at Kyle's party, everybody would heal much quicker. "I thought you took an earlier bus."
"I usually do," she assured him. "Teacher conference. My first class got cancelled."
"Ahh."
"Yeah."
"So what's been going on?"
"Nothing much. Fran died."
"I heard."
"I went to her funeral yesterday."
"Luke went, too."
"Really? I didn't see him."
Jess cleared his throat. "He said he was at the back."
"That explains it."
If he was leaving, he had to get a couple of things off his chest. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look at her as he said, "I couldn't get the prom tickets."
She turned her gaze to the dirty floor of the bus. "Oh," she muttered, clearly disappointed.
"I'm sorry." His voice was cold and crisp, but he tried to tell her with his eyes just how sorry he was. For prom, for the party, for just being an overall failure of a boyfriend.
But she never looked up. "Well, it's just a stupid dance. Nothing life-changing. I mean, we can do something else instead."
Jess sighed silently. There she went again, making excuses for him. He didn't say anything to her for the rest of the ride.
The bus stopped and Rory finally looked up. Glancing out the window, she said, "This is my stop."
Jess simply nodded.
As she stood up, she finally looked at him. Her eyes were brighter than usual. "So you'll call me?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He thought about it and decided what he needed to do instantly. He took a deep breath. "Yeah," he lied. "I'll call you."
She gave him a small smile and walked off the bus. Jess watched her until the bus started to roll away and he could no longer see her out of the grimy window.
"Fuck!" he muttered, kicking the fortunately empty seat in front of him. He ignored the looks of worry the other passengers shot him.
After a minute of glowering at the world in general, Jess heaved a sigh, reached underneath his seat and pulled his duffle bag onto the empty place next to him. Rummaging through his bag, he found another book that he had started earlier. It reminded him of Rory, whom he didn't particularly want to think about as he ran across the country from her. But he'd think of her no matter what. Might as well choose his own poison.
Soundtrack: "Yesterday" by the Beatles; "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie; "La Belle et le Bad Boy" by MC Solaar; "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by the Clash; "Konstantine" by Something Corporate
References: Not many this time. Um, The Guinness Book of World Records; Miss Piggy; James Dean; Bono; and Doogie Howser, MD. Did I miss anything?
Author's Note: I suck. I know. Not much to say, basically I'm still plugging away, albeit very slowly. Thanks for staying with me up to now. I'm going to try and be better, writing a few paragraphs a day. If you truly want the deets, go to my profile and all will be explained (look under the link to TAAR's playlist). I did not edit the second half of this. It's almost one in the morning and I think a half a year between updates is much too long so I'm posting it now. But I did try to make it extra long for you. Nearly 12 pages. Do you guys think I write a convincing male point of view? Any suggestions. I'm a girl, so any advice or tips would be treasured.
Last installment I told you some things about me so here we go again! One: For the past two years, since I left the town I grew up in to go to school, random strangers have been coming up to me and they start speaking Spanish. When I reply, "What?" they seem genuinely surprised that I have no idea what they're saying. I speak French. And very little Italian. Apparently, to a lot of people, I look Latina. But no. Not a drop. I just find it interesting. I was once out with a friend and earlier that day I had told her about how this has been happening to me a lot recently (she didn't completely believe me). Ten minutes later, a guy walks up to us, turns to me and says, "Hola." I wave back at him, fry in hand. He then holds up a book and asks me if I speak Spanish. I say that I don't and the guy walks away. He doesn't even ask my friend (who is trying to hold back her laughter) if she speaks Spanish, which, incidentally, she does.
Two: Do you know how people say, "Oh my gosh, you look just like insert-celebrity-name-here!"? Yeah. That doesn't happen to me. I'm not even one of those people who don't look like anyone famous. That's right, I do get compared to rather well-known beings. Cartoons, specifically. When I was younger, some lady I met decided I looked like Belle. Which I can understand, because when I was eight, my hair kind of fluffed out into the same style as Belle's (but less perfect) and I had really big eyes and was always carrying a book around. About a year or so ago, I was at this party where I didn't really know anybody, just a few of my friends. I was laughing while everybody else tried to remember my name and if they'd seen me before (they were a bit tipsier than they thought). Then one girl exclaims something along the lines of "I know where I've seen you before! You look just like Snow White!" Then she points at me and says to the others, "Black hair!" As I was retelling this story to my friend, and all the other cartoons I've been compared to, she decides that, "You do kind of look like Jasmine." And the character I get compared to the most: Pocahontas. It's usually when I decide to put my hair into twin braids, which is interesting because in the movie her hair is always down and usually blowing in the wind. But when I was in 7th grade, I went to a party and some of the guys there decided they were going to call me Pocahontas for the rest of the night (and since they were older, I wasn't going to argue when they chose me to be among their favorites). Another time, it was around Halloween and a friend asked me what I was going to be. I had no idea and said so. I was, for some reason, in PJs that day, and, when I haven't dressed up to go to school, I put my hair in braids. Her reply: Flick one of the braids and say, "You can always be Pocahontas." So extremely long story summarized: I don't look like a real person. But if you think of just about any Disney princess with dark hair, I've been compared to her at least once. I guess I should be flattered. They may be two-dimensional, but they are pretty.
Third: I cannot act. My mother used to be an actress and wanted me to follow in her footsteps, which I did not find entirely unappealing. So I was registered in this Saturday morning acting class for young teens. I soon discovered that I dislike the spotlight way too much to be an actress. Plus there's the whole, I hate lying and I'm terrible at it so acting is probably not the way to go. I struggled through the whole 8 weeks and came to a conclusion: I can only play two very different characters. I rocked the crazy, funny, tiny old grandmother who locked unassuming people away in her house if they were seeking shelter from the storms (I think I was especially good pretending to be short considering I'm over 5'9"). The other character that I can play is apparently Anne Frank. We were given monologues to read cold to whatever group you were put into (each group was 3 people). We each had to in turn read our part and the other two would give you points to improve on. I remember one girl was Lucy from Peanuts. So we did this. I went and they had nothing to constructively criticize me on (score!). But then we had to read our monologues in front of the rest of the class and the teacher. Since we'd been given the papers 10 minutes ago, clearly we didn't need to memorize, but we were supposed to look at the sheet as little as possible. We all offer advice on how to make the performances better. When my turn comes up, I go. I recite. The teacher looks curious and asks me, "What did your group tell you to change?" I reply, "Nothing really." She nods and doesn't say anything else. I wait a couple seconds to see if anybody is going to say anything. Nothing. I slink back to my seat and bask in my apparently convincing representation of Anne Frank. The next week I was back to my terrible acting self.
Wow, I just spent over a page talking/typing about myself. I honestly intended to only write a short paragraph and list the 3 facts about me. Oops. Well, if you made it this far, you are very persistent and for that I admire you, as well as for your many other admirable qualities, I'm sure. Anyway, peace out!