I did what you asked. But then a man in a hat showed up and told me to mind my own fuckin' business. Then he showed me the butt of his pistol. I said, "You got the rest of the pistol shoved down yer pants. How do I know it's there?" He laughed uproariously, then scowled and said in a steely New England drawl, "You're lucky I have a hangnail" and flagged down cab. The last thing he did before he drove off was to warn me not to read the Home and Garden section of the local newspaper on a certain Tuesday in November and flashed me the hand sign for the Texas Longhorns.
In other words, can't help ya.