I'd appreciate it, Charmaine, if you'd try to explain. I find it hard to believe you hit him with a book because you didn't like the way he looked at you.

I was trying to get his attention.

His attention?

His eyes were glued, like, you know, chest level. I couldn't get him to look me in the eyes. I actually bent down, for God's sake, trying to make eye contact. I don't know. The stupid bastard was practically drooling. The book was on his desk. Next thing, he's holding his head and staggering like a new foal. Then, boom! He hit the ground hard! And, Lord, blood? His nose was like a faucet.