"Hey, HEY! HUNCHBACK! WAIT UP FER CHRIST'S SAKE!"

The Hunchback stops. Lit only by a tiny lantern he slowly turns, giving you time to think what a not very bright idea rushing up on him was.

"What... did you call me?"

"I... Uh...", you stammer cleverly, "It's just I don't know your name, so..."

"So you thought you'd use my deformity as a name? I don't know your name, did I just say 'Hi, shirt guy.' 'Cause your wearing a shirt."

You try to apologize, but it's hard to do on account of how nasty you feel about yourself just now.

"Did I call you 'Meat lips'? 'Cause as it happens, you have a pretty big set of meaty old lips there on your face."

Okay, you feel less nasty now.

"Like a couple big strips of liver on a butcher counter is what they look like, your lips. But do I use that as your name? No. No, I do not."

"Well, who are you?" You ask

"I'm your cousin Cletus. I got here late, Queez tells me the only place to sleep is in the secret room behind the armoire in your room. I tried not to wake you up, but I guess that kind of courtesy is lost on a person who hates the handicapped."

"No, I don't... I just," you stutter brilliantly, "Okay, so how did you know about this secret passage, and where are you going?"

"I gotta pee if it's any of your business which it isn't. And every rich old guy's mansion has a secret staircase and you always get in the same way. Aintchoo never read a Hardy Boys book? No, I guess you're too good for that. I guess a college boy liver lips like you prefers maybe the Blackberry to books. Hey, Hey, why don't you get on that internet, find a medical site, see what the hell is wrong with your gimongous, swollen lips, Angelina Jolie!"

You:

• Jump on the bastard hunchback, tumbling both of you down the stairs.
  
  
• Become so self conscious about the size of your lips, you start to cry.
  
  
• Shout "So's yer old man" at Cletus.
  
  
• Stand there stupidly and after a really long pause, go "Oh yeah?".