Revelation: I know a Basque person.

So one day in the library at my university I ran into the one junior Spanish professor I’m friends with, and I hit him up for the email of another Spaniard who I’ve known through him for years, so I could send him an invite to my 35^th birthday party (= socializing at a bar, going to see a crazy French artfilm, more socializing at a bar).

He was on his laptop, so he pulled up his email right away, copied the guy’s email address (which was his name), and threw it in an email to me.

“What the heck?”, I was like as soon as I saw it, since the guy’s name began with a “Tx-”, which I completely did not expect.

“He spells it the Basque way,” my friend the Spanish professor was like.  “He’s Basque from Navarre, you know.”

“No, I had no idea,” I was like.  “Does he speak Basque?”.

“He spoke Basque as a child, but he says that he’s forgotten it, now,” my friend the Spanish professor was like.

“No shit,” I was like. 

Then, after a pause, I was like, “I bet his parents were building a bomb one day, but it accidentally exploded.  [The Basque guy] was nearby and got a weird brain injury, and *that’s* how he completely forgot his mother language.”

“Could be,” my friend the Spanish professor said, laughing.  “Man, you are awful.”