That little sycophant will say anything. I remember this time during the summer holidays when I was invited to his parents' place for brunch. He yelled, at the top of his lungs no less, 'I'm on fire, I'm on fire!'

We all looked around in amazement and noticed that he was clutching his left arm. Upon closer inspection, we saw the tiniest singe from a Cuban cigar; barely three layers of skin deep, which his parents then asked me to extinguish.

I haven't been asked back for brunch and it's all because of that little Drama Queen.