 That's for sure. I expect you to be upstairs and in bed when I get back. And I do not want to see you riding that stupid donkey of yours to Mr. Marchetti's tomorrow or ever again. You're working so hard, Guglielmo. I'm so proud of you. Now, why don't you go on upstairs? I'll leave you a plate by your door and a salve for that burn. Make sure your father doesn't see. Real men don't ride donkeys.