Last night:

(knock on door)

Errol’s daughters: PIE! PIE PIE PIE! (translation:  Do you want pie?)

Me: Sure!

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)