[NOTE - If you have been reading these chapters, you've figured out these are CARTOON CHARACTERS. It's like on Tom & Jerry when one gets hit with an anvil and hollers and is back to normal in 2 seconds. Don't take any of this too seriously.]
Brad was making a fortune, running a gambling joint at the South end of Spank Island. And when boys ran out of money, he gladly took credit. And when credit couldn't be paid, he would get into bartering with the other island industrial ventures: party goods, enforcement, and best of all if the lads were hapless enough to not have anything of value, the rental of their rear ends to anyone who had the money to cover the gambling chit. It was a booming economy on the Island and who cared if a huge share had to be given the two demi-gods who ran the summer camp Chris and Justin. The teenagers were the ones who made a life of ease and wealth possible for Brad and the other head pawns who provided for the needs of the hundreds of eager-beaver boys looking for entertainment without the interference of any adults.
Brad had a busy Saturday lunch crowd and all the tables were full with waiting lines. His pitboss, Malcolm, seemed to be moving a little tenderly as if he'd recently gotten his butt busted, but Brad felt that the supervising lad was still watching all the dealers adequately. And his two star dealers, Mac and Josh, were working the blackjack tables at full speed to Brad's satisfaction.
What Brad did not notice was an impish blond boy and his mischevious brunette pal giving knowing nods to Malcolm, Mac and Josh. This was it. This was the setup that was going to put Brad's butt up for payback for the past punishment that was visited on his three "pawns"' during their adventures on the pier.
Ricky and Derrick each took a table. They were going to break the bank, but sometimes a mishap might make even a fixed deal misfire, so Mac and Josh would each try to play the right cards and see which one would run well. Malcolm, as pitboss, was to give the final nod.
Josh, looking like the young basketball player of Air Bud, dealt excellent cards to Derrick. But Mac, seeming like the young hollerer of Home Alone fame, was finding it easier to push the house riches into Ricky's hands. Malcolm, resembling the Meddling Munchkin In The Middle, did his best to keep Brad's attention from the dual win streaks.
Derrick made four great wins in a row, and then got the nod from Ricky. He was not to be the one to break the bank. He was just to walk away with such a huge win that Brad would have no reserve. Derrick cashed out.
Ricky winked to Mac and they went for it. Six hands put heaps of high-value chips in front of Mac before Malcolm was forced to bring Brad to the table because it was so serious.
"Why didn't you get me here before?" Brad demanded.
"It's happened in only minutes." Malcolm murmurred.
"So back the bet," Brad looked nervously around at the crowd starting to gather to watch.
Mac dealt 20 to Ricky and only had 17 himself. The huge stack doubled.
"Let's go for broke," Ricky smiled. "Deal again."
"That's more than 50% of the house right now," Malcolm said to Brad and winced as the big teen's hand reached between the pitbosses prepubescent legs and gripped his peanuts with a hard squeeze.
"How is that possible?" Brad demanded.
"Because," Malcolm squeaked, "we had a big loss on Josh's table just 10 minutes earlier. Some kid who cashed out."
Brad let go and grabbed the cards from Mac. "Get outta there!"
The crowd started murmuring in anger.
"You're not going to let me play?" Ricky asked loudly. "Everyone in this room has put their dollars on the line and risked losing everything. Why not you?"
Brad glared angrily. "Who are you, you little pipsqueak?"
"I'm just a customer waiting for the next deal."
"You just heard. I can't cover it."
"Then you have to risk breaking the bank," Ricky said, "and betting something you are always willing to take from everyone else here."
Brad gulped. That was the one thing that Ricky could say to get the entire crowd worked up against the gambling boss. Almost everyone in that room at one time or another had been bent over and had their butt bruised to make up for banked credit they couldn't back. Now they were all eager to see Brad put his own billiard balls on the table.
"Give me a fresh deck," Brad demanded. "You win, you break the bank and my ass is yours for the rest of the day. But if I win, I get the same. All your money and your ass."
Ricky licked his lips. He had not planned for a fresh deck. This was it, as he looked at the terrified eyes of Derrick, Josh, Mac and Malcolm. Had all their clever planning been a waste of time? Was he going to wimp out now when the odds would actually be even and the risk that Brad's usually creative punishments would now light up Ricky's rear for the rest of the day?
"I'm going to go for it," Ricky said confidently, squirming in his speedos on his seat as he thought of what he exotic plans he had prepared for the big bully. It might be his own buns in the campfire if he failed, but he was prepared to go for it. There was a bigger consideration than just helping the gambling pawns payback their teen boss. Having Brad at his mercy would get him closer to his real targets: the self-proclaimed camp kings Chris and Justin. "Deal."
Brad was also nervous, but he knew with the large mob of kids, he had no choice. He had taken their money all summer and was going to do so in the future. No punk upstart was going to derail his money machine. He dealt one card down and an ace to himself, then a 7 card up to Ricky and an 8 to himself. He had nine or nineteen. Ricky asked for a card, and got a three. He showed his down card as a Jack and that left him 20. Now Brad had no choice... he took a card. A 5 now gave him fourteen. He gulped. He had no choice again... and took another card. It was a queen. He was busted.
The entire crowd erupted into cheers and celebrations. They were all going to finally get a chance to witness the punishment of big, bad Brad, and for each of them it would be sweet payback for all time Brad had made them settle their bets with long nights of painful payment. Brad's pawns tried to look disappointed and contrite, but he knew Malcolm and Mac and Josh had taken powerful punishments from him and would be thrilled to see the tables turned.
"Strip," Ricky grinned, "right here. Right now."
Brad knew better than to resist. He would rather take off his own shorts and shirt and shoes than have the mob rip them off. He stood stark naked in front of the entire crowd and watched with embarassment as his rod rose up rigid right before everyone's eyes. This brought more cheers and jeers as Ricky indicated that Brad's butt-pounding was to be outside. The crowd escorted the tough teen as Ricky led the way out of the gambling shack and down to the beach.
They stopped at a boogie board on the dirt, a good quarter mile from the water. Next to the board was a round post sticking up two feet from the ground with a bowl-shaped hollow carved into the top.
"I'm going to ask your henchmen to help with the work," Ricky said. "Mac and Josh each grab an arm and a leg and position our friend so that his family jewels go into the hollow on the top of that post."
Mac and Josh had Brad get down spread eagle on the ground so they could lift him up and hold him hovering over the post. The crowd made an eager circle around the display, trying to figure out what was going to happen.
"Since you have a reputation for liking to give out your punishments with a little heat," Ricky said for everyone to hear, "I think you should get the same... or maybe even a little more."
He put on a pair of thick gardening gloves and pulled a sack from behind a bush. Brad was just as curious as the crowd, but certainly more terrified. Ricky reached in and pulled out a hefty handful of bright red balls of bristling prickles.
"Fire Nettles!" Malcolm cried out.
The entire crowd started to whisper excitedly.
"Oh man," Brad's eyes widened as Mac and Josh held him over the post. "You can't be serious. No way dude. That's too much."
"Too much?" Ricky asked, packing handfuls of the prickly nettle into the post hollow until it was full to the top. "My friend. This is just the beginning. Boys... his nuts and bolt go right in there. Since he's got a hardon..."
Ricky grabbed the rascal's shaft and pointed the arrowhead straight down towards the nest of fire nettle. "Let's give it a test drive. Just lower him two inches."
Brad's tender head was pushed into the bristly brush and hundreds of miniscule prickles did their work.
"YYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" the suspended spuds' entire body stiffened as pain shot through the lad's lollipop.
"I think this'll work," Ricky nodded to Mac and Josh. "Down he goes."
"No.. no....NOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWEWEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" Brad's protests turned into a long wail as his entire shaft was pushed into the fiery filling, followed by the fledgling's figs. His entire front package was shoved in hard and deep into the needling hollow of the post and every inch of his rod and marblesack was greeted with an ignition of blazing pain. The boy's arms and wrists flailed wildly, but Mac and Josh held firm as they stretched them out and then held them fast as pegs were pounded into the ground and twine fixed Brads ankles and wrists firmly. The sapling was balanced spread-eagle with all of his weight on his frontal point planted deep in the painful hollow of the post.
"AYYYYYAAAHHHHH!!!! AYYYAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" was all Brad could articulate as the felt a forest fire erupting between his legs.
Ricky held up a bottle of Deep Heat to Brad's tearing eyes. "This look familiar?"
"OHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Brad managed to blurt out, but he was stretched out tautly and could do nothing as the blond brat moved back behind the spread out thighs and could just get the bottleneck into the space where Brad's balls disappeared into a nest of red-spiked nettles. Ricky poured the fuming contents into the hollow until it flowed over the top. Ricky's hand pushed Brad butt in place so that the kid's knobstick and apricots fully corked the furious furnace.
Deep Heat on the sensitive genitals was agonizing enough, Brad knew from his dealing out hot punishments. But with his boy bulge buried in the zillion prickles that were sending waves of pain through his frontal toychest, the addition of the fiery liquid send Brad's bat and balls into a nuclear meltdown.
"HAAA....HAAAA..." the lad tried to find the wind to let out the holler as his miniature weiner and marshmallows began to get a royal roasting. Finally his lungs caught up with the pain. "HHHHHHHHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Ricky picked up two switches and handed one to Derrick. "I think he's ready for his butt-whipping, don't you?"
Brad's rump was positioned perfectly as the boy was balanced with all his weight on his groin raised two feet up on top of the post, grinding his boy-basket into the fiery nettle stuffed into the top hollow, ams and legs stretched tautly down to the pegs on the ground in spread-eagle fashion. Ricky and Derrick stood on each side and gave each other a wink. Then the real punishment began.
"TTTHHHHHWWWAAAAACCCCCKKKKKK" Ricky's switch cut an angry red stripe across both buns.
"WWWWHHHHHHAAAAAAAA" Brad reacted to the new source of pain to his rear. While his frontal boytoy was smouldering to new heights of intensity on top of the post, the loud linear lick to his leeward buns burned with an intense white-heat across his cheeks.
"TTTHHHHHHWWWAAAAAAACCCCCKKKK" Derrick laid down a stripe right below Ricky's red welt.
"OHHHHHHHHH! OHHHHH! DUDE!!!! I CAN'T... CAN'T.... AAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
And that was all Brad could articulate as the two cut branchlets began to rain down bruising stripes up and down the boy's butt.
THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK
The birching was delivering such a painful basting that the pinioned pup was grinding his own groin vigourously into the blazing brush that seated his burning baubles, bringing the heat to even higher levels of powerful pain.
THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK
This delighted the crowd and whipped them into a frenzy as they witnessed the effects of the furious flogging of the fledgling's fanny.
Ricky and Derrick whipped the whelp's wagging rear until the entire rump was bright red and completely covered with raised welts. Then they handed switches to Josh and Mac who worked out another five minutes of solid shellacking. Malcolm then took a switch and had Josh and Mac place their hands on Brad's red hot buns and spread them wide.
"What are you doing?" Brad whimpered... the pain level now to the point where his hollering had tapered off to just long grimacing endurance.
"This is for a hot lunch you were indirectly responsible for," Malcolm replied and landed the switch smack in the middle of Brad's crack. The spread-out sapling's butt-circle suddenly felt like it had been lit up like a firecracker.
"WHHHHAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWW!!!" Brad responded and again ground his groin deeper into the post hollow, igniting new levels of heat down below. "Ohhhh, duuuuuuuuude, if you value your nuts, don't do that again."
Malcolm looked at Ricky, who nodded the go-ahead. The lanky lad lined up the switch perfectly, raised the switch high up, and nailed Brad neatly on the butt-ring. Brad screamed with the direct hit. Malcolm began lambasting the lad's quivering o-ring, laying out harsh licks that nailed the keyhole from every direction and made sure every angle of the backdoor was glowing red hot and tender.
Then Malcolm put on a glove.
"Oh no," Brad begged, looking over his shoulder with terrified eyes, "You can't possible be thinking... oh no, dude... please... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Malcolm wedged his hand in between Brad's balls and the post hollow to haul out a large ball of fire nettle, dripping with Deep Heat. As Brad continued to beg, the crowd started clapping louder and faster. Malcolm started running the nettle all over Brad's bruised backside, and that pain sent the sorryful scout into screams of pain. But as the crowd's clapping got even louder and even faster, Malcolm's excruciating buttrub was making it's way closer to the kid's quivering crack. Once again Mac and Josh spread Brad's cheeks - with gloves on this time - and Malcolm pulled out a freshly dripping handful of deep-heated nettle.
"Dude," Malcolm reassured Brad, "this is really gonna hurt."
And Malcolm's hand pushed the burning brush against Brad's boyhole and started rubbing up and down. The buttring was now so bruised and battered that when the blazing nettle was rubbed into the tenderized bulls-eye, Brad went ballistic. He let out a full-lunged hollering that silenced the clapping crowd in awe. His entire body arched on the painful post and his body pulled so hard against his restraints that he actually ripped out the pegs that were holding his wrists and ankles. Malcolm stepped back. Brad tumbled off the post and everyone could see that his family jewels were glowing ruby red. He involuntarily started sliding his butt on the ground, trying to put out the fire in his crack. But the friction only forced the miniscule pricklets deeper in, making the fierce fiery sensation on his rear entry hit new heights of intense pain.
While the loose brunette scrambled about, failing to put out his rear roasting, Ricky and Derrick grabbed the nude nipper and dragged him to the boogie board. He was put on hands and knees, which were lashed tightly to knobs on the boogie board.
"There's only one thing that'll put out that pain," Ricky said, repeated the gambling boss's own words from previous adventures. "Wet Sand."
"But the beach is way over there!" Brad blubbered. "How am I going to get to the wet sand if you have me tied up here?"
"Very painfully," Ricky smiled. He had Derrick get two oars from a beached rowboat and hand them to a couple of big lads who were among the hundreds eager to join in on the fun.
Ricky instructed the first oarsman, "I want you to deliver a full swing to Brad's bottom there and see how far this land-sled will go."
The boy complied, arcing a powerful SSSWWWAAAAATTTTTTTT to Brad's red-hot rump. The impact gave a loud retort, brought a sharp yelp from Brad, and moved the boogie-board two inches forward on the dirt.
Brad started whimpering, "But it's a quarter mile to the beach!!!"
"Looks like it's going to be a long day for you, then," Ricky grinned. "Go to it boys!"
As the crowd all rushed to take turns propelling Brad towards the beach by belting bruising swats to the boy's beet-red butt, Ricky and Derrick and the three gambling pawns went back to the gambling shack to get their money. They had lunch and drinks and partyied and napped and returned hours later to find that the blubbering bent-over Brad was only two thirds of the way to his final stop. The crowd had gotten the beaten boy so well trained that he was offering to arch his own butt up in the air hoping the more perfect angle would gain him a few more inches with each swat, even if it often meant getting hits directly on the buttring. This gave Ricky an idea. He had Brad's legs untied long enough to slip on a pair of speedos over the teen's glowing midsection before he was retied with his ass in the air. This brought groans of complaint from the crowd. They liked giving it to braggard bareassed. But then they saw Ricky's logic. The blond prankster trotted back to the post and scooped out the nettles soaked in deep heat.
"Oh maaaaaaaaan," Brad begged, "Not again. No, no, please."
"Stop your whining," Ricky said, stuffing the bristly brush into the front of Brad's bathingsuit, and then fully packing the rear, making sure there was a solid ball of the blazing thistle right against the kid's keyhole.
Brad's whining turned up in volumes as his tenderized nether region reignited in hot pain. The paddling began again, and each inch Brad was propelled forward also drove hot pricklets into the sobbing rascal's rump. And when the oarsmen got direct hits that nailed the nettled nestled deep in the kid's crack, they were rewarded with a loud long yowl as Brad's butthole exploded in white heat.
Ricky and his crew watched the progression go faster as the ground near the beach grew slicker. Finally, there was only twenty feet to go for the exasperated imp. But Ricky called for a halt. He moved behind Brad and pulled down the speedos just to the bottom of the boy's bum. Brad wagged his butt wildly to try to shake off the nettle, but Ricky roughly brushed it away to get at his real target. He reached between the bent-over boy's thighs, grabbed the juvenal's joystick, and pulled back HARD.
"UNNNNGGGGHHHHHH," was all the weary whelp could respond.
Ricky pulled the kid's candycane back and then pulled the speedos up a bit so that Brad's rockhard boy-baton was resting against the taut back, fully exposed to attack from the rear. Even worse, the gambling boss realized, his balls now bulged back between the bottoms of his buttocks. Any swats to his seat would nail his nuts!!!!
"Oh, pleeeeeeeeeeese," Brad begged, "Oh noooooooo. There's no way!"
"I think," Ricky said sweetly, "there's a lot of guys here who got their gumballs walloped by your doing."
Mac and Josh took up oars and couldn't wait to start Brad's final twenty feet. The oars swung through the air, walloping the wagging tail but still catching an angle of the whelp's walnuts that were pushed out by the sapling's speedos.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK
"AHAHAHHAAAAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHHHHHH" Brad hollered. "NO MORE NO MORE NOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH"
But the wooden paddles continued the excruciating pummeling of the pixie's posterior and pounding of the pup's pecans.
WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK
The backside bruising suddenly ceased with two feet to go, and Ricky announced that Malcolm would provide the final drive. Malcolm moved behind Brad. But the hapless lad noticed his young punisher did not pick up an oar. Instead, Malcolm took a pocketknife and took off Brad's speedos altogether. The delinquent's hard dick swung upward and now his datenuts dangled between his spread thighs. Malcolm moved behind Brad and lined up his boot with the perfectly positioned pebbles. Brad hung his head and looked down along his underside and between his own spread legs to see the grinning goody-good ready to deliver a grueling boot to the boy's boysenberries. Malcolm stepped back a few feet, took a running start, and served up a full-swing kick to the kid's coconuts.
"OOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Brad ejaculated as the boogie board jumped up from the high-kick and jounced forward a few inches.
"OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," the crowd echoed, realizing how painful that must feel.
Now Brad could only look forward towards the finish line as Malcolm continued to nail his nuts with running kicks that slammed his boot soundly into the saucy punk's sugarplums. Finally when the last back inch of Brad's boogeyboard crossed the finish line and he when he finished his yammering, he demanded to be untied so he could finally get to the wet sand to put out the sting that was still burning his boyhood bulge and butt.
"Oh, we'll help you with that," Ricky said and soon Brad found himself completely buried in the sand, face up and slightly angled in sitting position, with a heavy amount of sand keeping him pinned in spread eagle position and only his head exposed at one end and two feet exposed at the other to the hundreds of kids crowded around to see the crowning payoff. The sun was still an hour before setting which would set Brad free.
"Better?" Ricky asked.
Brad groaned as he lay immobile under the hardpacked sand. "I don't think anything could be as painful as that was."
"I wouldn't say that," Brad gave Malcolm the signal and the three pawns soon dug right between the pinned punk's legs to make a hollow under his butt and leave his tender basket fully exposed topside as well, but still six inches below the sand's surface.
"Do you know what they call this beach?" Ricky asked Brad.
Brad looked around. His pounding had been so painful, he hadn't even thought to see which beach he had been paddled to.
"Yeah, its..." and then Brad's face flushed red. "Ooooooooh, no. No, no, no. You can't. You can't even be thinking it."
Ricky held up a bucket. "Not only thought of it.... gonna do it."
"What's the name of the beach?" a young kid asked.
"Jellyfish Bay!" everyone in the crowd shouted reply, and looked to see what was in the bucket.
Ricky had collected a full load of the transclucent tendrils that were chock full of the stingers that zinged so badly. As Brad tried to move under the heavy sand, the only thing that he could do was wag his head and feet wildly back and forth. His now-exposed nether section was fixed firmly in place.
"Plleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaassssssssseeeeee," Brad begged with all he could muster. "Anything but that. I'll do whatever you say for the next week. Just oh, please, oh , there's just no way dude. No way. Anything but that."
"Yes way, dude, Ricky moved between Brad's legs with the bucket. "Definitely that."
Brad's eyes were wide open in terror; Brad's mouth was wide open in anticipation of needing to holler. "ohhhhh.... ohhhhhh......" he began in anticipation.
And then Ricky started to pour the opaque spaghetti down the hollow dug out below Brad's buttocks, careful to miss the quivering balls and bat that was pointing straight up to the sky. The hollow quickly filled up so that the jellyfish tendrils touched every inch of the boy's bruised butt. A thousand tiny strands lit up the lad's stern with an electrifying sting that had his head and feet wildly flailing above the sand
"AAAAHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Brad's hollering was so loud that Ricky had to shout out a joke that the boy could serve as a warning siren for passing ships. "I CCAAAAAAAAAAN'T TAAAAAAAKE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Derrick came over with gloved hands and reached around the waif's waist, grabbed cheeks from both sides, and said "We want to make sure you get the most mileage between the mounds."
Derrick spread the buns and jellyfish tendrils cranked up the pain tenfold as the kid's keyhole felt like an electric eel had been shoved up his crack. The howling reached a higher and louder pitch as the sting just kept hitting new levels of intense pain through his entire seat.
Then Ricky took the bucket and held it over the perfectly pinioned pup's beansprout and sweetpeas.
"Oh please. Oh please." Brad's face screwed up in excrucating pain from the rear, "for anything you want, please don't do it."
"Actually, I have everything of yours," Ricky replied. "But I'd like your help to do something for me in the future, so I'll stop here."
Brad let out a long sigh of relief, despite the increasing agony across his ass. But Mac and Josh snatched up the bucket and dumped the contents down on Brad's front. The dude looked at them in disbelief, feeling the cold wet mess completely immerse his boy-toys. He knew he only had seconds before the pain kicked in.
"Wh... wh... why?" he pleaded.
"Well," Mac explained, "after all we did to you, we figure you're gonna fry our butts anyway."
"Yeah," Josh nodded. "So why not?"
"Ahhh...Ahhhhh'll... Ahhhhhh'll get you twooooooooooooooooooWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW"
The stinging sensation turned into a slow burn between his legs.
Malcolm walked over and said, "Better make it three." The boy placed his boot on Brad's booty and ground the jellyfish tendrils in, ensuring all the painful potency was firing full blast into the boy's beanstalk and brussell sprouts. Brad's eyes crossed. His mouth opened to take in a deep breath of air. And then the howl that came out loud and long gave everyone an exact idea of the intense level of pain that was sending the saucy scout's treasurechest into a thermonuclear explosion that would not abate in it's stinging intensity until the sun set an hour later when Ricky released him. Brad lept out of the jellyfish bowl, burrowed his butt into the ground and began the slow process of putting out the roaring fire by packing wet sand across his buns, against his butthole, and between his legs. It still took quite a while before the pain subsided enough for him to even think about moving. And he knew that it would be over a week before the stinging would completely gone.
Ricky knew he as mad as Brad would be every minute of every day of the painful afterglow that was in store for the stripling, Ricky could easily get Brad on his side with one simple motion... give him back his money and tell him that Chris and Justin needed to get double what had just been dealt to Brad.
"See ya at the tables tomorrow," Ricky said and left with a smile.