“Heh. I think you made your point, Atticus.Gods Below, Oberon, that was horrendous! You just violated the Schwarzenegger Pun Reduction Treaty of 2010.What? No, that didn't qualify!Yes, it did. Any pun related to a weapon's destructive capabilities or final disposition of a victim's body is a Schwarzenegger pun, by definition. That's negative twenty sausages according to the sanctions outlined in Section Four, Paragraph Two.My hound whined. No! Not twenty sausages! Twenty succulent sausages I'll never snarf? You can't do that - it's cruelty to animals!You can't argue with this. Your pawprint is on the treaty, and you agreed that Schwarzenegger puns are heinous abominations of language that deserve food-related punishments for purposes of correction and deterrence.Auggh! I still say it's your fault for renting Commando in the first place! You started it!”

“come humans, fulfill your evolutionary purpose adn build your hound a fire." Oberon”

“ Oberon said from behind the counter.I busied myself making Emily's tea and spoke to him through our link. 'Yes, well, she's decided to take the high road, so I'll be happy to walk it with her as long as she likes.''Nope. She's a witch. A polite witch, but still a witch. She's got a charm on her hair that would have had me giving her anything she wanted if I hadn't been wearing protection. Don't take anything from her, by the way.''Oh yes she does. Emily has probably already told her.''How would you know the difference if she did? You think all sausages are magic.”

“What if one of your customers hears us talking about covers and such things?""We're in the perfect place to talk of them. They'll assume you're Wiccan. And if you're going to go way back in history and anyone is rude enough to interrupt and ask you about it, like that guy who just left, we'll say we're part of the SCA."Her brows crinkled in confusion. "The Society for Cruelty to Animals?""No, I think you mean the SPCA, where the P stands for Prevention.""Ah. Of course."I shot a quick thought to Oberon. 'See? Witches.'”

“Not everyone can be bribed with meat, Oberon." "They Can't? Oh! you mean they're vegetarian.""No, they eat meat. It just doesn't sway their decision making process." "Well that... that's just wrong, Atticus!Are they Monsters? It's like they have no moral center!”

“No worries, Atticus. I will snarf surreptitiously. And I should get bacon, because my adverb was two syllables longer than yours, plus a bonus for alliteration." I grinned. "It's a deal. You're the best hound ever.”

“But, look, it is good to have a dream so long as you do not let it gnaw at the substance of your present. I have seen men consumed by their dreams, and it is a sour business. If you cling too tightly to a dream—a poodle bitch or a personal sausage chef or whatever—then you miss the felicity of your heart beating and the smell of the grass growing and the sounds lizards make when you run through the neighborhood with our friend. Your dream should be like a favorite old bone that you savor and cherish and chew upon gently. Then, rather than stealing from you a wasted sigh or the life of an idle hour, it nourishes you, and you become strangely contented by nostalgia for a possible future, so juicy with possibility and redolent of sautéed garlic and decadent slabs of bacon that you feel full when you’ve eaten nothing. And then, one fine day when the sun smiles upon your snout, then the time is right, you bite down hard. The dream is yours. And then youchew on the next one.”