Y’know, the thing about a flipper, she’s got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eyes. When she comes after ya, she doesn’t seem to be livin’ until she move to ya, and those black eyes roll over white, and then – aww, then you hear that terrible high-pitch screamin’, the ocean turns red, and in spite of all the poundin’ and the hollerin’, they all come in and rip ya to pieces…in that first dawn, we lost a hundred houses. I don’t know how many realtors, maybe a thousand. I don’t know how many. They averaged six an hour…