Noah Stone 6: No More!

By Patrick M. Browning

Noah Stone is a man! The kind all men would like to be! He is like the famous 'Pardner' in that he too is the epitome of the 'Lover, Fighter and Wild Horse rider! We are going to follow him through his life. It is not always the typical 'Hero Fluff' most authors try to present. Noah's story is a more realistic tale of a bold and fearless man who

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing
• Release date: Feb 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888872260

Patrick M. Browning

Patrick M Browning has spent his life Cowboying all over the west and deep into Old Mexico, managing some of the largest cattle and horse ranches in both countries. These many years in the saddle have given him the advantage of a perspective and knowledge of his subject matter, few writers of our generation have the benefit of drawing from. His works on Contemporary Cowboy life have a true to life feeling and flavor that only comes with actual experience. PMB, 'Lives the life he writes, and Writes the life he lives!"

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Copyright © 2023 by Patrick M. Browning.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Westwood Books Publishing LLC

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Synopsis

Biography

CHAPTER 1

Who is that crazy man? The arrogant Rodeo Star inquired of Matts’ bartender. He’s just standing there staring at that painting on the wall! I believe he drank a toast to it!

Mister, do us all a favor and keep on drinking your beer and telling your friends how great you are, and don’t worry about that fellow! The Bartender made a wide suggestion.

Hell, Barkeep! I ain’t worried about him. I am Dan Anderson! The toughest, bronc-ridingest man to ever enter this establishment! I am just wondering why you would allow a nut to stand in here, upsetting your good customers, is all! The loud-mouthed Arena Cowboy stated.

Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave. iF you can’t behave yourself. Please, have a beer on the house, and leave that man alone, I am asking you nicely. The Bartender offered.

This isn’t the only bar in town! Come on fellas, let’s go somewhere they don’t allow pitiful fools, pretending to be Cowboys to run around loose. Dan announced, even more loudly and pompously than before.

Noah Stone was, as always wearing a pair of Wrangler Cowboy cut jeans, a white, long sleeve, western shirt, his Olathe boots, and belt, and a ‘El Presidente’ Stetson hat His shirt and jeans were clean and pressed neatly. His boots were polished, and his hat was brushed clean.

No, Sir. It is not the only bar in town. There are many more establishments here in Prescott and I am sure that someone as important as you think you are, would be much safer in one of them. The bartender said losing his patience with this braggard.

Safer? Are you going to throw us out, and let that pretender stay? Dan asked threateningly.

The bartender responded calmly. That, gentleman, has made, given away more money, ridden more rough broncs, and fought more tough men, than all of you goofs together will in your entire lives, and to answer your question, I am not going to throw you out. He is! Carl the bartender and now part owner of the place, said and nodded toward the end of the bar. Noah had stopped talking to the painting of ‘C.W. Doc Pardee’ and having heard this idiot’s claim of being the toughest man and best Bronc rider to have ever stepped in here, Noah walked directly to Dan.

Little man, you have a big mouth and an even a larger sense of self-worth! One of two the things are about to happen here. You are going to walk down to the end of the bar, take your hat off and apologize to the actual ‘Greatest Bronc Rider’ who ever lived. Noah said, as he was fed up with this fellow’s mouth.

What is the second thing, old timer? Because I am not taking my hat off to nobody, let alone a painting of some old fool! Dan said. It seemed like he was going to say more, but Noah stopped the conversation by hitting Dan on the point of his chin, knocking him out cold!

Noah! That’s enough, please? He is just a loudmouth, and his friends are about to drag him out of here and are never to bring him back! Carl asked Noah, and then made sure the Rodeo Boys understood.

Sorry, Carl. Noah said to his long-time friend behind the bar. Then, Noah limped back to talk to the painting again. Carl told the rest of the men, Get Dan out of here and be thankful that he had only been hurt and not killed. Then, he took Noah another water glass full of Sombra Mezcal Joven, just like he had been doing, on and off for over 20 years now.

Thank you, my friend. They are all the same, only with different faces! They seemed to be getting younger though! Noah said smiling.

My dear friend, do you think that maybe it is that we are just getting older? Carl teased.

I suppose you are right, Carl. It is sad when a man gets to the point he just doesn’t care, anymore! Noah said sounding very lonely.

Noah, what is going on, my friend? I have known you for 2 decades and have never seen you down, like you have been this past of week. Carl asked.

Do you ever wonder if you really made any difference, Carl? Noah asked philosophically.

Made any difference in what? Car asked, without fully understanding.

In life, in the world, you know, did you matter? Noah asked as the two old friends sat down at a table where Noah could still look up and see the painting of Doc.

No, Noah. I don’t really suppose I have done all I could or should have with my life. I did raise 2 fine kids and took care of them and my wife all these years. But you can’t tell me that you don’t think you have mattered, my friend. Carl said. You have saved and helped more people that any 100 men in all of history. Carl said truthfully. Then added to try to lighten the mood a little, Hell Noah, you have made more money, rode more broncs, fought more men and loved more women that any man who ever lived!

Maybe, but I can’t remember them all, Carl, and that shames me greatly. Noah said again sadly.

Being with too many women to remember is something most men should be proud of, Noah, certainly not ashamed of! Carl said.

Damn it, Carl! I remember every woman I have ever been with from Sandra Fleming on! It is some of the men I have killed I can’t remember. I will have to answer for every life I’ve taken and I am worried that I won’t recall them all when time comes for my judgement. Noah stated even more solemn now than before.

My friend, what has happened? Carl asked, worried he knew already.

Carl, I’m dying of a broken heart. I am living in my range teepee and showering in the forest service station there at the foot of Thumb Bute and a gal at the Ranger station does my laundry for me once a week. It gives me enough quiet time to reflect. I also have you and Doc to visit with. What else does a man really need? Noah asked.

Damn it, Noah! There are a hundred of us that would be honored to have you stay with us. Why didn’t you say something? Carl asked.

Say what? That I am sad and feeling sorry for myself? Hell Carl, you know I am wealthy. Noah said.

How long have you been alone, Noah? Carl asked.

Since my old dog Slash died. That has been a year now. I have been meaning to get another one for the company but just haven’t yet. Noah said smiling back through time remembering his tough old dog.

I meant living by yourself, Noah, how long has it been? Carl asked. Since February 1, 1981. Noah said and looked up at Doc’s picture mumbling something.

What happened back then Noah? That has been almost five years! Carl asked.

Well, Carl, if you really would like to hear, I will tell you the whole story. It will most likely take some time to tell it all. Noah said, and started telling the story of a life lived wild and free, full of action and adventure, love, and hate!

"The end really started after I went to save the Jefe Alverez’s son, Julio in Hermosillo where I killed the four men holding him, and got Sabrina killed. After that, I returned him to the motel safely. I went back to where the kidnappers had first taken the boy and I killed everyone that was there! Then, I took Julio home, or rather he drove me back to Cananea saving my life, as I was once again shot all to hell.

After I healed some, I went back to Hermosillo to kill the remaining drug and kidnapping cartel members. I wound up rescuing the Governor of Chiapas’s wife, Marquez Delgado, from the Cartel’s Hacienda near Empalme. There was a young boy being held for ransom there as well, as were three young girls who were to be sold into prostitution. I brought them all back to the Alverez compound, and the three girls are grown women serving Julio. I went back down to make sure I had completely eliminated every member of the Cartel and found two men left there at the private airfield."

They went back to the Hacienda with me, and I had to kill them as well. Then I took three paintings and gave them to Jefe Alverez’s companion back in Cananea. I also brought the two German Shepherd guard dogs back to the Jefe. I flew back to the Ranch then, and before long I received a call from The Governor, wanting to thank me for saving his wife. That was just a phony show for the press, as it turned out."

Anyway, Helena, Angel, Deloris, the Estrella Ranch assistant manager, and I had planned a trip to a resort in Mexico City, and the Governor, his wife, and a retinue of his bodyguards, met us there for dinner. They had men come get me and threatened to kill my Ladies if I didn’t go with them, so I went. They slapped me around a little, trying to get me to give up the Jefe, but I refused, so they shot me in the back twice.

I fell to the floor tied to a chair, and when one of the shooters came to check on whether I was dead or not, I took his gun away and killed all of them. I went into the house that was next to the garage they had me in. On the way to the house, I killed two more of them and then went inside and killed the last two."

I took their SUV and drove back to the Resort where we were supposed to have dinner. By the time I got back, Helena had everything under control. She had called her father a Colonel in the Federales, and he and his men had arrived, and the Governor and his entourage had run for the hills! They left Deloris there, and she rolled over on them, spilling her guts to the Federales. Telling them the Governor was the head of the Mexican wing of a much larger Columbian Cartel.

Deloris had been a part of the drug smuggling and human trafficking cartel from the beginning and was partially responsible for the deaths of my wife, Angel, our friends, Adriana, Raquel, Bianca, Agustina, and the huge Cane Corso dog, Samson, beside the Pilot, Emanuel Estevez.

I left the Colonel to deal with the Governor and went back home with Helena and Angel. Deloris did not return with us, as she had been arrested and taken to jail. Things calmed down some for a while, and then one day I saw in La Prensa (Mexico City’s largest newspaper) that the body of the Governor’s wife had been found murdered.

I told my Ladies that things were likely to get a bit active around there soon and asked them to let me take them up to Cananea to the Jefe Alverez’s compound where they would be safe, but they refused to go, saying they would stay there with me, and their 2 big dogs would protect them.

The Colonel called and told me he needed to see me and asked if I would meet him at the Federales offices in Mexico City. I went straight there and met with him. He wouldn’t talk inside, so we went for a walk around the grounds. He told me that in the La Prensa tomorrow morning, I would read that the Governor of Chiapas had been assassinated, along with 12 of his men, after a violent shootout in the streets of Tuxtla Gutierrez. It will be reported that his own connections in the Columbian Cartel had claimed full and sole responsibility for the killings.

I am hoping this will bring enough attention to the Columbians that they will lay low for a while at least. I wanted to warn you, son, that several of the Governor’s men informed us that the Governor had told the Columbians all this was your fault. He then told me the hardest news of all, that two of the Governor’s body had not been present at the alleged assassination and had run to Columbia for refuge.

I hurried home, and once there, I let Andre, my Segundo be sure to have all the Vaqueros keep their eyes open for any signs of Cartel activity that there might be some repercussions for my efforts to rid the world of the Mexican Cartel. I didn’t know for sure that they were simply a satellite of a much larger Organization of Columbians. Andre said they would all defend the ranch to their best ability, but they were not soldiers, they were simple Vaqueros, and could only do so much.

I realized that Andre was correct, so I called the Jefe and asked for some gunmen to come protect the Vaqueros. Rafael and a dozen of his former cattle thief compadres came down and stayed at the ranch guarding both the office and the Vaqueros. I Helena and Angel stay at the house with their two guard dogs and had Guadalupe the ranch’s housekeeper come sit in the office during business hours and answer the phone. I took care of all the books evenings at first and after a week or so, Guadalupe’s partner’s daughter who was Angel’s best friend asked if she could come and help with the paperwork.

I figured with the guards there now and with the Columbians not knowing Cheryl and I had any past association, she and Guadalupe would be safe, so I allowed her to come with Guadalupe weekdays and help in the office. It turned out that Cheryl was brilliant and was able to take over the accounting of both the ranch and field operations in almost no time at all.

This freed me up to spend more time on the ranch, actually working with the cattle. One day, while I was checking the new heifers down in the new southern pastures, I came across something I considered, the last straw. There nailed to a Cypress tree, was the carcass of my Jaguar. He had been shot, gutted, and his body mutilated. He had been castrated as part of the dismemberment, and his testicles were hanging out of his mouth. There was a note on the carcass, inviting me to come to Bogota.

So, I went. When I arrived, there were men waiting for me. They took me to Buenaventura and on to Cali. Not far outside Cali was a compound that made the Alverez place look like a slum. The gate guard house was as nice as some palaces. I learned it also serves as the compound guard’s, quarters. The security was better than I had ever seen. Even though the men with me in the car were known to the Gate keeper and we were in a Cartel Vehicle, we were all made to step out and the automobile was searched including under the hood and in the trunk.

I assumed they had drug sniffing dogs, but one was a drug dog, and the other was a bomb detection dog! Every man was made to show his ID, which was copied and recorded in a logbook. Only then were we allowed to enter. It was not an option previously, as the huge metal gates were not opened until everything was verified. They weren’t very impressed with my very old and expired Arizona driver’s license, but it was all I had, so they had to let me in or send me away. It made no difference to me either way.

I wasn’t all that nervous about them killing me, because if they had wanted me dead, they had a thousand opportunities to get it accomplished already. I was taken into a foyer as large as the Jefe’s patio. I had to try hard to not be impressed with the wealth and grandeur of everything around me. I had been to the Hearst Mansion years ago, helping them with their cow herd, anyway this place made the Hearst home look like a garage.

"There was Italian Marble and Mexican tile everywhere. They had statues from the renaissance and paintings from the 1500’s.

It was one of the most fantastic collection of art anywhere in the world, and that caused me to damn near get killed a little later, but for a while those paintings were one of the few reasons I was not killed right away. Them and the fact the Head of the Cartel wanted to show me the talents his men possessed in the art of torture. I was actually kind of excited to see them at work! I also kind of hated that they would be demonstrating their skills on me!

They did not even allow me to see the Head man, but spoke to him in a different room, then took me to the ‘Party Place’ to entertain me. After 2 hours and 50 new scars, none were terminal by themselves but collectively, they were taking their toll, ‘The Man’ himself came in. ‘Senior Stone, I am Caesar Castillo. This is my home, welcome. He said."

I couldn’t think of anything too clever in my current condition, so I spit out a couple of teeth and said, Thank you for the hospitality, Sir. You have a beautiful home. I especially enjoyed admiring your artwork. I believe it is the most spectacular gallery anywhere in the world!"

He responded, ‘You appreciate fine art, Mr. Stone?’ Caesar asked me. Certainly Mr. Castillo. I found the Da Vinci’s awe inspiring and the Renoir spellbinding. The ‘The Card Players by Paul Cezanne 1892, I am sure is the original! Nafea Faa Ipoipo? By Paul Gauguin 1892, The Portraits of Maerten Soolmans and Oopjen Coppit, by Rembrandt van Rijn 1634, along with the Bal Du Moulin De La Galette, Pierre-Auguste Renoir 1876, The Portrait of Joseph Roulin, Vincent van Gogh 1889, and Irises also by van Gogh 1889! Add, Mona Lisa del Giocondo, by Da Vinci 1506, if it is a reproduction, it would have fooled Da Vinci, himself. The Salvator Mundi, also by Da Vinci 1500, would make Leonardo struggle to determine its authenticity. I congratulate you Sir. Bravo!

Cut this man loose and see that he is cared for and get him something proper to wear. He has bled all over the ones he has on. Tonight, bring him to my dining room. I shall visit with this man, Noah Stone! He said and before he walked away, he added, Mr. Stone, I was told you were a barbarian, a murderous assassin, and a big dumb Cowboy! I have been lied to Sir and I regret not investigating your character further for myself.

As I said, my love and limited knowledge of fine art transformed me from a torture victim into a welcome guest. They cleaned me up as best they could, bandaged my many cuts, and gave me a fine pair of dress slacks, a silk shirt that I ruined bleeding through my bandages, and a smoking jacket! I’ll tell you, Carl, I was one dressed-up son-of-a-bitch that night! I was cut, bruised, swollen, black, and blue, but I was damn sure dressed for dinner.

Two armed men walked me into the dining room. I thought it was too late to eat but I was wrong! There was a table for 14 people sat for 8 and the Queen of England never sat at a finer service. ‘We live a harsh and ugly life, Mr. Stone. I like to take time to enjoy the finer side of it, as often as I am able.’ Castillo stated. ‘Sir, May I introduce you to my wife Paula, my consorts, Maracella, and Luisa. The two gentlemen here dining with us is, my Capitan’s, Angelo, and Cyrus. They have been with me from the beginning and are as much family as employees.’ He more announced than said.

I explained that I too enjoyed the finer things in life and had a terrible distaste for its ugliness. Some of the unpleasant parts of life are mandated by the way we have chosen to live it, but some of the most troublesome events, even in our chosen fields of endeavor, are and should be avoidable. They are not necessary or advantageous to our desired result and cause the inevitable retribution, which is always unwanted and unpleasant. This Brunello di Montalcino is from Tuscany, is it not? It is paired quite perfectly with the Pheasant, Mr. Castillo, miei complimenti allo chef!

(This feels like a good time to remind you all of this conversation in Columbia, was in Spanish only these few phrases were in Italian)

The Boss’s wife, Paula asked, ‘You speak Italian, Mr. Stone?’ ‘Si, Signorina! Non e molto diverso dallo Spagnolo.’ I replied, then addad, French is the language of love, Italian is the language of music, art, and food, German is the language of war, English is the language of business, and Spanish… well, Spanish is the language of prayer! This was the bait I needed as it was Paula who was the reason, they owned the paintings. She had traveled to Italy and visited both Rome and Tuscany. She not only brought home the paintings and cases of fine wine, but she also brought back with her a love of the culture and langue of Italy.

She asked me, ‘Parli davvero italiano o hai solo una frase o due memorizzate?’ and I responded, ‘Dovrei essere insultato dalla tua richiesta, mia cara?’ She looked shocked and the Boss simply stared at us. Paula then apologized with, ‘Ti prego di perdonarmi signore. Non avrei mai pensato che mio marito avrebbe avuto un uomo colto come sei ovviamente, torturato! Per favore perdonami un’ipotesi errata!’ I could see our conversation was not understood by the Boss, so I reverted back to Spanish.

Mr. Castillo, my sincerest apologies, Sir! I realize we were being inconsiderate of the rest of you, please forgive my poor manners. It is just so seldom I meet a beautiful Lady who so eloquently speaks the Language of music and art, I forgot where I was and why I am here. I said again respectfully speaking Spanish. Mrs. Castillo spoke up in our defence, ‘It is your own fault, Caesar! You could have gone to Italy with me and chose not to and stayed here with Maracella and Luisa, instead!’ Paula said scoldingly.

You must forgive my wife, Mr. Stone! She forgets her place too often!’ The boss spoke harshly. ‘Forget my place! Mr. Castillo, do I need to remind you that THIS is my domain? It has been my family’s for over a hundred years! My family built this plantation and successfully grew the best coffee in the world, we exported cut flowers, bananas, rice, tobacco, corn, sugarcane, cocoa beans, oilseed, vegetables, fique, and panela, for a century before my father drugged you in off the streets and taught you everything you know.’ She scolded him, unafraid. This told me a great deal, and I used it immediately to get the conversation under control.

Mrs. Castillo, I have seen you have exquisite taste in art and wine, did you also develop a desire for the music while in Italy? I asked. ‘Why, yes, I did Mr. Stone. Are you going to tell me that you know something about Italian composers as well as you do its artist?’ She asked me. I assumed they were going to kill me anyway so I might as well drag it out as long as possible, so I responded, ‘Yes, Mrs. Castillo, she stopped me and said, Please Mr. Stone, call me Paula!’ she offered and I replied, ‘Only if you call me Noah!’ I said. So, I continued with, "Alright then, Paula, some of my favorites are,

‘Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina 1526-1594, Giovanni Palestrina, was an Italian Renaissance composer, is perhaps the best known example of the Roman School of music. He wrote mostly in the idiom of sacred music, which was crucial in the progression of church music and is often considered the pinnacle of Renaissance polyphony and counterpoint. In the ultimate musical compliment, Johann Sebastian Bach scrutinized and performed Palestrina’s Missa Sine nomine whilst writing the historic Mass in B Minor.

Also, Claudio Monteverdi 1567-1643, Claudio Monteverdi was a revolutionary Italian composer whose work signaled the evolution between the Renaissance and Baroque period. His innovative compositional style included two differentiating features: the conventions of Renaissance polyphony, and the basso continuo method of the new Baroque era. Monteverdi was a member of the Florentine Camerata, who are credited with inventing opera as we know it. His most celebrated opera L’Orfeo is still performed in opera houses. A highly innovative and original composer, Monteverdi enjoyed considerable success in his lifetime and is revered worldwide to this day.

And, Antonio Lucio Vivaldi 1678-1741, Antonio Vivaldi, playfully nicknamed The Red Priest, due to his striking red hair, was an Italian composer of the Baroque era, in addition to being a virtuoso violinist. Highly regarded as one of the greatest Baroque composers, Vivaldi, is most commonly recognized for his violin concertos, choral works, and his large canon of over 40 operas. However, the violin concertos entitled The Four Seasons are the most illustrious part of Vivaldi’s breathtaking oeuvre. Whilst being highly regarded in his lifetime, he declined in popularity until the arrival of the neoclassical movement of the 20th century.

Then there is Domenico Scarlatti (1685–1757). Giuseppe Domenico Scarlatti was an Italian composer who is credited for the transition from the Baroque to the Classical era. He spent a large proportion of his life serving the Portuguese and Spanish royal families, and like his father, Alessandro Scarlatti, he composed on a multitude of musical platforms. However, he is mostly recognized for his 555 keyboard sonatas, which incorporate inventive techniques such as unconventional key modulations and the use of discords. Only a small portion of Scarlatti’s work was published in his lifetime, but in the centuries since, his sonatas have been published and influenced composers ranging from Chopin to Shostakovich.

"A list of Italian composers would not be complete without, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi 1710-1736, Giovanni Pergolesi was an Italian composer of the Baroque era and one of the most important early composers of opera buffa (comic opera). His opera seria (serious opera), Il Prigionier Superbo, included an opera buffa act called La Serva Padrona, which eventually became a popular piece in its own right. However, its 1752 premiere in Paris created a divide between the French school of serious opera and Italian school of opera buffa. This contention segregated Paris for years, with Pergolesi being highlighted as the leader of the Italian movement of comic opera. Pergolesi also wrote sacred music such as Mass in F Minor and his most famous work, Stabat Mater.

We must include Gioachino Antonio Rossini (1792–1868). Gioachino Rossini is nicknamed The Italian Mozart as a consequence of his inspired song-like melodies, which feature throughout his 39 operas, sacred music, chamber music, piano pieces, and other songs. His most eminent works included Il Barbiere di Siviglia, The Barber of Seville, the drama giocoso piece La Cenerentola, and the stunning French-language work Guillaume Tell. Before his retirement in 1829 and the emergence of Verdi, Rossini had been widely regarded as the most popular opera composer in history.

Of course, Vincenzo Bellini 1801-1835, Vincenzo Bellini, a native of Sicily, was the quintessential composer of bel canto opera, which focuses on light tone and legato production through vocal ranges. Bellini is mostly recognized for his use of legato vocals and long-flowing melody lines, which earned him the nickname The Swan of Catania. His most famous works are Norma, Beatrice di Tenda, and I Puritani.

This is also, Giuseppe Verdi 1813-1901, Giuseppe Verdi was an Italian composer of the Romantic era and is still considered one of the most influential composers of the 19th century, his works still being performed in opera houses worldwide. Political agenda was crucial in the works of Verdi, such as the The Chorus of Hebrew Slaves, which endeavored to unify the country and free it from foreign control O mia patria, si bella e perduta / O My country, so lovely and so lost. Verdi was often criticized for his overly melodramatic and diatonic works but is still considered to be the most important Italian composer of the Romantic era. His most notable works include La Traviata, Rigoletto, Falstaff, and Aida, which influenced a young Puccini.

I also enjoy the works of Giacomo Puccini, 1858–1924. Giacomo Puccini, born in Lucca, began writing music after watching a performance of Verdi’s Aida. Puccini is celebrated for his stunning melodies, lush orchestrations, and expert musical dramatization. While often criticized for his flirtations with popular music and over-sentimentality, he is considered the only true successor to Verdi. Puccini’s masterpieces, Madama Butterfly and La Bohème, are still the two most performed operas in the U.S. While Puccini’s works embraced late-nineteenth-century Romanticism, he was a key figure in the Italian Verismo movement, which sought to incorporate the naturalism of writers such as Emile Zola into opera.

Paula stared dumbfounded and Mr. Castillo who was still pouting for being reminded that this magnificent estate was actually his wife’s, said, ‘I suppose anyone could make up a bunch of names trying to impress you!’ Sweetheart, you are proving your ignorance yet again!

"Noah is obviously a genius and