A bowl for you, sir. And I do call you sir, for your conversation was enjoyable...but had I known you'd keep that native hen when I tailed her for you, I would've choked you with your line and broken your rod over my knee. I spit in your eye. When I see you again I'll get your lisence number and report you, sure--but I also warn you, sir, of the bowl there in front of you and your children and all of your future generations. A bowl of blood, in front of your face, forever.