“It came in a vision - a man appeared on a flaming pie and said unto them, 'From this day forward you are Beatles with an A.' Thank you Mister Man, they said, thanking him.”

“How can you thank a man for giving you what's already yours? How then can you thank him for giving you only part of what is yours?”

“He’s being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven,” Thomas said. “I figured he couldn’t jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.”“That’s an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man,” I said.“I’m planning to start making a pie in front of him.”“Nice.”“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you she said in a voice that said he could go to hell and take his jacket with him.”

“You are a sick, sick man,” I told him.“Thank you,” Ben replied, looking modest.”

“I’ve said I was sorry,” Qhuinn intoned. “But I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you. So, yeah… thank you.”