It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single girl of high standing at Longbourn Academy must be in want of a prom date.

And Nate? You kiss like a slobbering dog, you have bad breath, and you wouldn't know how to punch the right buttons on a girl if we came with manuals. Happy Thanksgiving, Jackass.

I suppose he's making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.

Speak softly and employ a huge man with a crowbar.

So many things to see, people to do.

All persons, living and dead, are purely coincidental.