The following weekend, Sören and Anthony go on an actual date. It's overcast but rain isn't expected until the late evening, so they chance it by going on an hour-long drive to Niles Pond in Gloucester to see the mute swans and have a picnic.
Before they sit down for their picnic they take a stroll, hand-in-hand. There are leaves crunching underfoot everywhere but the trees still have plenty of leaves on them. Sören loves the fiery colors... and as they pause to admire a particularly large tree with golden leaves and the contrast against the silver sky, Sören feels a frisson go through him.
Since he was young, Sören has had two recurring dreams. One of them is about being ambushed by a pack of fire demons with flaming whips and being mortally wounded, going up in flames and smoke and ash - it's why he has fire inked on his right arm, and a firebird on his back, balanced out by ocean waves on his left arm and a water phoenix. The other dream - more pleasant but always making him cry when he wakes up, feeling an indescribable sense of loss - is about two trees, one made of silver light that turns the sky silver, one made of golden light that turns the sky gold, and sometimes the light mingles. While the intense, rich golden color of the tree standing before him isn't the same as the brilliant light of his dreams, it still makes him think of those dreams anyway...
...and it feels right to be sharing this moment with Anthony, the man he loves, the man he wants to spend his life with.
Anthony squeezes Sören's hand and recites a poem by Robert Frost, from memory.
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Sören gets choked up. He turns to Anthony and touches the chiseled cheek, looks into the moss-green eyes flecked with gold. He doesn't know how to express the emotions he's feeling, connecting the vision of treelight with the beautiful man walking under the trees with him. All he knows is what he's feeling is deeper than love.
They hold each other, and as Sören rests his head on Anthony's shoulder, he hears himself whisper, "Stay."
Anthony whispers back, "Always."
Sören and Anthony make an interesting-looking couple - Anthony is wearing an oatmeal-colored cashmere sweater and indigo jeans, while today for their date Sören is wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck with a black Metallica T-shirt over it - the turtleneck hides the purple hickeys on his neck - and a black utilikilt with his Doc Martens boots. As they have their picnic, Anthony keeps staring at Sören's hairy legs, and after awhile he does more than look, reaching out to brush Sören's calf with a finger, or two fingers, then caressing and rubbing with his palm, making Sören break out in gooseflesh, his body tingling to Anthony's touch. After they finish their sandwiches and potato chips and cake, Anthony gives Sören a sultry look and asks, "So... are you wearing that kilt properly?"
Sören knows exactly what Anthony means. He grins and nods.
"Good, because I want second dessert."
There's no one else around on a cool, grey day like this, and Sören lays back on the blanket, his kilt hiked up as Anthony dives between his legs and laps at his aching, needy cunt. Sören looks up at the silver sky and out at the vibrant trees and the swans swimming on the serene pond, the cattails swaying in the slight breeze, and then into Anthony's hungry eyes, and thinks to himself how good it is to be alive.
Then he can't think at all, as Anthony's wicked tongue teases and excites his clit, and nothing else exists except the pleasure and tension, the heat between them. Anthony sucks on it, slurping noisily, and Sören's cries echo across the pond. Sören can't get enough of Anthony's mouth on him, never wanting the bliss to end, but at last his body reaches that peak and he shatters, coming, screaming as he bucks against Anthony's face, who murmurs approvingly as he feels Sören twitch in his mouth.
Anthony takes a few licks at Sören's contracting cunt, making streamers with the gushing cream, and Sören pulses harder, bucking again before he sprawls back, the world spinning, his body weightless. He laughs with sheer joy, and Anthony smiles lovingly before he lays down next to Sören and kisses him, letting him taste himself. Just before Sören can drift off, he feels Anthony shaking next to him. He opens his eyes and sees Anthony with his jeans undone, hand down his boxers, and he's just in time to watch Anthony shudder and gasp, eyes fluttering. Anthony sighs and then he brings his slick fingers to Sören's lips to taste. They kiss again, and rub noses.
Sören is worked up from watching Anthony playing with himself - knowing Anthony was that turned on by eating him out - but instead of doing more, with the ever-present risk of getting caught, they sit at the pond for a little while longer before heading out to the car and then on the highway back to Boston. They're not going straight home, as earlier that morning they had agreed to do a couple errands on the way back. First they go to Target to buy some shelves and storage units for Sören's art supplies, now that they're turning the spare bedroom into Sören's studio. Anthony stops in the accessories section and walks to a display of scarves and Sören figures he must be buying a new scarf with winter on its way, and uses the time to fiddle with Pokemon Go on his phone.
After Target they hit the supermarket. They buy their usual staples then head to the florist section to buy a couple bouquets of flowers to brighten up the apartment, which is right next to the organic food section where Anthony can get hummus for his lunches at work. While Anthony is picking out different flavors of hummus, Sören is in the next aisle over looking at curry sauces - and then he sees Jayde, wearing a baggy blue US Navy sweatshirt and corduroy pants and putting a can of vegan "Chik'n Noodle Soup" in his cart. Just before Sören can back out of the aisle, Jayde glances over and smirks.
"Oh, hey Sören," Jayde says.
Oh god. Sören swallows hard and says nothing. He turns back to the shelf to pretend to ignore Jayde, but then Jayde says, "Aren't you going to say hi? So rude."
Now Anthony is standing at the end of the aisle, scowling as he's looking at his phone. Sören bites his lip and wants to call out for Anthony to come intervene, but he feels frozen, like a deer trapped in headlights.
Jayde sneers disdainfully at the flowers in the top basket of the shopping cart. "Oh look. Flowers. Are you detransitioning now, going back to being a stupid girl? Oh wait - you never stopped being a stupid girl!" Jayde laughs at his own joke, while Sören's fists ball in anger and yet, still, he can't bring himself to move out of the way, heart pounding in his ears.
Sören looks over at Anthony, who still has his phone out and there's a disgruntled look of concentration on his face. While Sören knows Anthony probably got a text message of bad news and he's not unsympathetic, he wants to scream Goddammit Anthony, put your fucking phone away and HELP ME!
Jayde goes on. "So, are you painting them, like you think you're Great Value Van Gogh or something? I suppose it's an improvement from painting the same thing over and over again -"
And then Anthony marches forward, face murderous. He turns his phone over and presses Play. A video plays back of Jayde taunting Sören. "Are you detransitioning now, going back to being a stupid girl? Oh wait - you never stopped being a stupid girl!"
Jayde takes a few steps back, eyes wide, mouth open, and Sören can't help grinning at Anthony, elated that was what Anthony was doing with his phone.
"I'm sure the Board of Education would love to know one of their teachers, shaping impressionable young minds, is such a bigot," Anthony says with a look of utter contempt on his face.
"Uh..." Jayde squirms. "I'm... sorry. Look, don't show them that, OK -"
Anthony narrows his eyes. "If you ever come near Sören again, if you ever so much as even look at him the wrong way again, I am going to the Board of Education with this vid. I might do it anyway, but I will definitely do it if you don't stay the fuck out of our lives, you disgusting, hateful little pissant -"
Jayde leaves his cart there and runs.
With a satisfied smirk on his face, Anthony puts his phone back in his pocket, then he strolls over to Jayde's abandoned cart like a Viking looting for spoils. He picks up the can of "Chik'n Noodle Soup" and snorts. "Vegan chicken noodle soup, eh? That's just... annoying. Why can't they bloody call it tofu noodle soup or something?"
Sören throws his head back and laughs, finding Anthony's pedantic "autism mode" moments endearing. He comes up to Anthony to give him a little kiss, and wants to tell him don't ever change, but the words that come out of his mouth are "Stay gold."
That night Anthony grills out on the terrace before the rains come - steak kebabs with mushrooms and bell peppers - and they have a romantic dinner in the living room with fairy lights and LED lanterns, with a playlist of sexy music like Sade and D'Angelo in the background. But despite the delicious food and the sensual atmosphere, Sören is still shaken up by the encounter with Jayde at the supermarket, and after he collects the dishes and runs the dishwasher and comes back to the couch to snuggle with Anthony, his mate picks up on it.
Anthony kisses Sören's forehead. "Everything OK?"
Sören nods. "Yeah, dinner was awesome." He tries to smile, not wanting Anthony to think he did something wrong.
Anthony smiles back. "I had thought about just making us a lasagna or something, but after Mr. Vegan Chicken Noodle Soup, I thought some red meat was in order."
Sören snickers.
Anthony makes a face. "You know, for someone who's so manly and thinks flowers are 'for girls'..." Anthony makes air quotes with his fingers. "He doesn't eat meat."
"No," Sören says.
Anthony gets off the couch, kneels on the floor, and starts dragging himself around by his knuckles, pausing every few paces to scratch his head, his armpits, and his crotch. "Me big manly man! Me hunt veggie! Flower for eat, not for pretty! Me man! Big man! Ooga booga!"
Sören doubles over laughing and hits himself in the face.
Anthony gets back on the couch. "You know the stereotype about 'short man syndrome' and how a lot of short guys act like aggressive, hypermasculine twats to compensate for being short? I think a lot of our fellow trans brothers fall into this behavior as well. He has some nerve calling your art Great Value Van Gogh when he's like Great Value Man. Just a little boy pretending to be a big macho manly man..."
And then Sören's laughter gives way to tears - he's held it in since the supermarket but now the dam breaks. Anthony's eyes widen with alarm and he pulls Sören close and squeezes him tight. "Oh, sweetheart. I hope I didn't offend you -"
"Ooga booga," Sören says. Anthony laughs and Sören manages a chuckle too, then cries harder. He shakes his head. "No, you're right. It's just..."
"He's got so much internalized transphobia it's like a toxic fucking waste dump."
"There's that, but also..." Sören thinks of the comment about the flowers and his art in the supermarket, and now he finds words for the wound that's been festering since last week when Jayde rejected him and was clearly not impressed with his gift. "What he said about my art. Telling me I paint the same thing over and over again. He didn't like the paintings I gave him... he was underwhelmed with the one I was going to give to him when..." Sören falls apart again, not able to complete the sentence.
Anthony just holds him and pets him for a moment, then he asks softly, "Can I see it?"
Reluctantly, Sören gets up, gestures for Anthony to follow, and they walk to the studio. Sören opens up the closet and takes out the canvas with the aurora over the Goðafoss. Anthony's breath hitches and he puts an arm around Sören.
"It's beautiful," Anthony says.
Sören shakes his head. "Jayde said it looks 'a lot like the last one', which was an aurora at Reynisfjara."
Anthony facepalms. "I don't know how you could look at that, and then at Reynisfjara, and say it's the same thing."
"Well, he did. Because of the aurora, it was green in both pictures. But it's different patterns of green, different shades. Almost like changing colors." Sören starts sobbing again, cheeks burning with shame as he remembers the sting of Jayde's criticism.
Anthony pulls Sören onto his shoulder. "Well, I like it. Can I have it? Of course, you can sell it, it's yours to do with as you wish -"
"I thought about just throwing it away, but I don't feel right doing that with something I worked so hard on. But I feel like you deserve better than... I don't know. This feels tainted now..."
Anthony takes the painting, puts it down on the floor next to the closet door, and then he takes Sören in his arms and holds him tight, rocking him, rubbing his nose in Sören's curls as Sören cries into his shoulder. "Nothing you make could ever be tainted. You have such a beautiful, sensitive heart, and it shines through in your work, and I love that about you."
As much as Sören wants to believe those words, and be comforted by them - and he knows Anthony is being sincere, their bedroom is full of his paintings - he still feels hurt, and vulnerable. "I put so much of myself into each painting. I gave him something... really intimate... and he just... he just... ripped it apart..."
"He doesn't deserve you," Anthony says. He picks up Sören's chin. "He didn't deserve your love. My god, Sören, when you told him how you felt about him was like an aurora, it fucking killed me. I felt so fucking jealous of him. I hate that I feel vindicated that he's gone and it was me you wanted, but..." Anthony's own eyes are too bright.
Sören glances over at the painting of the aurora, and then at Anthony's green eyes - the green less mossy, and more like the soft greens in the aurora now, reflected in the waterfall. In Sören's mind's eye, a flash of green turns gold, hearing Anthony recite Robert Frost's words earlier: Nature's first green is gold. He thinks about the dreams of silver-gold treelight, and he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking. He just touches Anthony's face and then he cries more, this time with the frustration of not knowing how to tell Anthony what he feels for him - has felt for him for six years - makes an aurora look plain by comparison.
Anthony leads Sören across the hall to their bedroom. He goes out to the living room to turn off the music and the lights, and comes back with the hollow book where they keep their gummies, a bag of loose weed, and a dichroic rainbow glass pipe that Sören made in a glassblowing workshop three years ago. Anthony packs the pipe and they take turns puffing and passing; Anthony blows smoke rings, and Seamus comes in to get a contact high, purring and kneading blankets with a little cat smile.
As they smoke, it finally starts raining, and when they're done Anthony puts the paraphernalia away and they hold each other, listening to the rain. The buzz has soothed both of them - enough that after a little while it looks like Anthony is taking a catnap. So is Seamus. Sören watches them sleep, once again in awe of how gorgeous Anthony is. Studying him. Adoring. Worshiping.
With the angst receding into the back of his mind, Sören feels calmer, but not enough to sleep. Instead, he gets the urge to paint, which he hasn't done since Jayde was rude about his art several days ago. But now it's time to break in his studio.
Sören finds himself expressing with his brush what he cannot in words. He brings his dream to life as best as he can - the two trees, one of silver, one of gold. The light.
The light of Anthony's soul, lighting up his entire world like a sun.
Sören paints until he thinks it's done. He's still not completely satisfied with it - he never is, with his work - but he gets it "good enough" and hopes Anthony will feel the same way. He lets the painting dry on the canvas, goes out to feed Seamus, and then returns to the bedroom where Anthony is curled up. Sören takes a few more minutes to just look at him, serene in his nap, hair tousled, long lashes framing his cheeks. Anthony's nose twitches in his sleep and Sören finds it adorable. He leans in to kiss the tip of Anthony's nose, and then Anthony blinks his eyes open and smiles at Sören.
"Hi," he says.
"Hæ elskan."
Anthony's cheeks turn slightly pink. "You kissed my nose."
"You have a very cute little nose."
Anthony's smile becomes a grin and his blush deepens. He chuckles. Then he tries to put on a serious face, pretending there was an affront to his dignity. "My nose is not cute."
"Yes it is. Especially the tiny freckles on your nose -"
Anthony turns beetroot and makes a Muppet noise, and Sören cackles. He boops Anthony's nose then he kisses it again. "Anyway, I have something to show you," Sören says.
Anthony gets up, yawns and stretches, and once he's done his business in the bathroom he joins Sören in the studio. Sören feels a touch of anxiety, worried that this will be the one painting Anthony doesn't like, but Anthony gasps when he sees it.
"Sören, this is one of your nicest paintings, if not the nicest."
Sören takes Anthony's hand, elated... but now it's time for the most vulnerable part of sharing. "When I was small, I started having two dreams. You know about one of them. The fire."
Anthony nods and tenderly runs his fingers up the flames on Sören's right arm, before holding his hand again.
"This is the other one. Two trees made of light. No place that exists on Earth, but it feels like it's real. It feels like a memory, just like the fire does." Sören puts his free hand on his heart. "I know now what I've been dreaming about." Sören turns to him. "The light. It's you. It's your energy. Your soul. Even before I met you, my soul loved you -"
Anthony's mouth opens, and then his eyes well up. But instead of breaking down crying, he grabs Sören's face and kisses him deeply, passionately. Sören melts into the kiss and they keep kissing like their lives depend on it, like nothing else in the world exists.
They move across the hall to the bedroom, kissing all the way. Once they're in the bedroom they shuck their pajamas and let them fall to the floor. They kiss again and again, running their hands over each other's naked bodies, stumbling to the bed as they kiss and caress, all heat and hunger.
Once they're on the bed and Anthony is atop him, they stop kissing and just look into each other's eyes. Anthony looks at Sören with something like awe, and it aches in a good way. Sören reaches up to touch Anthony's face, pet his sleep-mussed hair. "You like it?" Sören asks.
"I fucking love it." Anthony kisses Sören's brow. "It's so beautiful I don't even know what to say, but I feel... so deeply touched, and honored." He takes Sören's hand and kisses it, then presses it to his heart, his eyes bright and misty again.
Sören's own eyes tear up, and he starts crying a little, tears silently spilling down his cheeks. "Good. I feel really... I'm still fucked up by what Jayde said. I know he's an asshole, but -"
"Even if I didn't like it, I wouldn't say the kind of mean, petty shit that he said. But I do like it, really and truly. It's magnificent. And... this is going to sound weird, maybe, but thank you - not just for the painting itself, but for... trusting me with something so... deep and..." Anthony can't finish the sentence.
"I trust you with my life, Anthony."
Their eyes hold for a long moment. Sören has never said that to anyone. Soren never could say that to anyone, after being abused by his aunt and uncle who raised him, and an ex-partner when he was still female-facing, before his transition. But Anthony was his guide in his journey of manhood - like an older brother or a father figure. He's been there for years, his rock, his fortress.
His light.
Anthony kisses him and then he says, "If that's so, I have a proposition for you."
Sören raises his eyebrows, feeling confused, a little anxious... and a little giddy, all at once.
Anthony quietly gets up, and walks over to his dresser. There's a Target shopping bag sitting on top of the dresser that hasn't been unpacked yet; Sören assumes this is the scarf Anthony bought, that he didn't really pay attention to either in the accessories section or the checkout, since he was playing Pokemon Go. There isn't a scarf in the bag - there are two scarves.
Black silk scarves.
Anthony twirls them around as he comes back to the bed. "There's something I'd like to try. You can say no, of course, and it's not a dealbreaker. But it might be fun. I want to tie you up."
Sören gasps. "This is one of my fantasies." He's had many dirty, kinky fantasies - Anthony spanking him, Anthony tugging him around on a leash... He's been skittish of mentioning it, because most people aren't into that stuff, and in the six years they were just friends they never talked about an interest in kink, while they knew the other was queer. He feels elated that at least this desire is shared.
Anthony's laughter rings out, and he grins. "I fucking love you."
They kiss, and then Anthony asks, "So I can tie you up?"
Sören nods.
"OK." Anthony takes a deep breath. "We should have, um... a safeword. If it gets to be too much for you and you need me to stop. So if you want to think of one -"
"Ooga booga," Sören says, feeling cheeky.
They laugh together, and kiss again, and then Sören lays back. Anthony takes Sören's right arm and uses one of the silk scarves to tether his wrist to one of the posts of the canopy bed. Then he does the same with the other, and has Sören move his arms around to make sure it's not too tight or uncomfortable but not so loose that he can slip free. After that he gently kisses Sören's forehead. "Good boy."
Sören's heart beats faster and his cunt throbs, feeling himself drip with desire. Already, he loves this, and can't wait to see why Anthony wants him bound.
Anthony opens up his desk drawer and comes back over with his hands behind his back. When he sits on the bed, he shows Sören what he has - the switchblade pocket knife that he carries with him for self-defense, since he's listed on the ACLU website under his legal name and is out as trans. "Do you need to safeword?"
Sören shakes his head, his cunt twinging again.
Anthony leans in and kisses him, and then Sören hears a snick and feels the sharp tip of the blade at his throat. Sören's breath hitches and he drips some more, as he looks into Anthony's eyes, feeling total trust.
Anthony drags the blade down from Sören's throat, to his heart. "That's a good boy, trusting your Daddy. Because you know you're safe with Daddy." Anthony makes a small nick at Sören's heart and watches the blood flow, then he licks it. Sören whimpers, almost coming untouched.
"Such a good boy for Daddy. Trusting Daddy to keep you safe from bullies like that nasty Jayde." Anthony drags the knife back up to Sören's throat - pressing in just enough for Sören to feel the bite of the blade, not enough to wound. His tongue follows the trail of the knife, making Sören shudder and cry out. His cunt feels like it's on fire, urgent with the need to come.
The tip of the blade scrapes across Sören's throat, then over his sternum, and back down to his heart, with Anthony kissing and licking in the wake. "Good boy," Anthony whispers. "My good, good boy."
Sören whines. He feels like he's going to die if Anthony doesn't make him come... and he knows that's not going to happen anytime soon.
"So beautiful." The knife traces around and around Sören's right nipple, then up and down, a little sting but not cutting it. Anthony seizes the nipple with his lips and sucks hard as the knife moves over to the left nipple, scraping in circles then back and forth over the hard, aching bud, before he suckles the right nipple, tugging with his lips, eyes fierce. He licks Sören's left nipple as the knife goes back to Sören's heart, pressing in harder, not drawing blood yet. "I love the sight of you all tied up, offering yourself to me." He laps at Sören's right nipple and Sören moans.
The knife drags down to Sören's stomach. Anthony makes little cuts here and there, kissing them, as the fingers of his free hand walk up and down Sören's sensitive tummy, and brush in lines and swirls. Then Anthony scrapes at Sören's right inner thigh, kissing here, licking there, and at his left inner thigh, nibbling, sucking. The knife drags back up to Sören's stomach, then down to his mound. Sören cries out, almost coming again as he feels the knife on his outer lips, then pressing into the top of his clitoral hood, but not cutting him.
Anthony gently pushes the handle of the knife into Sören's cunt and starts taking long, slow licks at Sören's clit. The feel of the knife handle slowly sliding in and out of him - knowing one slip could be a disaster, and trusting Anthony not to - as Anthony's tongue teases his clit is almost too intense. Sören feels like he's floating, flying, as he surrenders completely.
"Good boy." Then Anthony's tongue is inside him, lapping, as the knife presses on his hood again. Sören knows if he starts writhing with pleasure there's the risk of injury, and this too is part of Anthony's domination and control, for Sören to lay there still as Anthony drives him out of his mind with pleasure. Sören hears himself crying out brokenly, almost sobbing, as Anthony's tongue fucks him and the knife pokes at his hood.
Almost coming.
After what feels like an eternity, the knife starts moving up again, more tiny cuts at his thighs and stomach and chest, Anthony kissing them better, and then the knife at his throat again as Anthony kisses him passionately and Sören tastes his blood and sex. Sören is so wet that he can feel the sheets soaked underneath him, still dripping, wanting Anthony so badly it hurts.
Anthony gives in, spreading Sören's thighs and getting between them, cunt on cunt, clits touching. Sören cries out and Anthony grunts at the feel of their bodies fitting together so perfectly.
Anthony holds the knife to Sören's throat, kissing and licking his neck as he works his hips, their cunts smacking together, clits rubbing in that secret delicious rhythm that drives them both crazy. Sören knows it's an effort for Anthony to hold the knife still while his hips are rocking - once again trusting him not to slip. "Daddy," Sören moans. "Oh god, Daddy... fuck me, Daddy..."
"Such a good boy for Daddy. This is what good boys get. This is how daddies love their good boys..."
Sören is so close, but he never wants Anthony to stop fucking him... and that feel of his life in Anthony's hands is intoxicating. There's something so deeply healing about trusting someone like this, after so many years of abuse. Sören lets the tension build and build, feeling himself peak then holding back, craving more. Hearing himself beg "more, Daddy, more," like a wanton slut.
Shameless. No shame. Only lust. Only love. Only light.
When they're both right there they can't make words at all, breathing each other's breath, eyes locked. And then a long moment later Anthony kisses him and moans "mhm" into the kiss, giving Sören permission to come.
Sören explodes gloriously. He sees the light of the trees. He sees fractals. He comes and comes, a full-body orgasm that seems to go on forever, Anthony coming with him, cunt pulsing against cunt, gushing. They both gasp for breath, and the look of joy on Anthony's face brings tears to Sören's eyes.
After Anthony unties him, the tears flow, and Sören hears himself whispering "thank you, Daddy, thank you, takk Pabbi, ég elska þig svo mikið..." like a mantra, like a prayer.
"I love you, sweetheart." Anthony rubs noses with him and kisses him, one deep kiss then a soft, sweet, lingering kiss. "You were so good."
"God, that was amazing." Sören laughs through his tears, feeling the happiest that he's felt in a long time. "We should do that again."
"We will. And maybe some other stuff, if you're down." Anthony smirks. "Like spanking -"
"GOD YES."
Anthony laughs with delight and they kiss again. Then they hold each other; Anthony rubs his back, pets his hair, rocks him, and keeps whispering "Good boy. My good boy. Daddy's good boy..."
Sören dozes off a little and then there's a cool spot in the bed. He sits up with a noise of protest and he sees the light on in the studio across the hall. He walks over and Anthony is looking at the painting again.
"I wish I knew how to paint," Anthony says, frowning a little. "I wish I could... express my love to you like... like this. Words don't seem enough."
Sören takes Anthony's hand and kisses it. Then he can't help ribbing Anthony a little. "Ooga booga."
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