(knock on door)
Errol’s daughters: PIE! PIE PIE PIE! (translation: Do you want pie?)
Up in Errol’s kitchen:
Me: This is awesome pie!
Errol’s daughter: Is there enough for seconds?!
Errol’s wife: There’s one little sliver left. Did everyone get some?
Errol: No, I gave up my slice for Manda.
Me: (looks horribly guilty)
Errol: (not looking up from his knitting with stupid face) I don’t even need to look at your face. I can just feel the guilt. It’s awesome.
Me: (looks horribly embarrassed)
Errol: I don’t even like rhubarb pie.
Me: (resists the urge to snatch away his knitting needles and stab him in his stupid face)