I don't know about you, but whenever I encounter a scaramouche, I feel strangely compelled to ask him or her the same question: "Will you do the fandango?" I know it sounds cruel, especially given the reaction that usually results. For those not familiar, this is what you can expect from a scaramouche encounter:
Me: Hello, sir. You appear to be a scaramouche. Am I correct? (Scaramouche nods)
Me: May I ask you a question? (Scaramouche's expression changes; he begins to shake his head in distress)
Scaramouche: No, please don't.
Me: But I must.
Scaramouche: Okay. If you must. Ask your question.
Me: Will you do the fandango?
Scaramouche: Thunderbolt and lightning! Very, very frightening! Meeeeeeeee!
The scaramouche then runs away screaming.
Now I ask you, is it really too much to ask? I mean, just a quick fandango would suffice. I'm not asking for anything fancy (as in the Huelva Fandango) or fantastic (like the Málaga Fandango). A simple, small Fandango—a fandanguillo, if you will—that would be great. But no. Instead, just freakish, irrational behavior. Stupid scaramouches.