“I Keep a Wholesome Table." Manannan Mac Lir”

“No, they're contemporary witch hunters, based in Russia."The crease deepened. "Hold on a moment. They sound like assholes?"I blinked, uncertain I'd heard him correctly. "I beg your pardon?"Jesus grimaced and pointed at his head. "It's this tiny human brain-I have to have a filing system for all this information or I can't keep track of it all. It sounds like these guys would be filed under Assholes Who Do Evil Shit in My Name.""Jesus. I mean, wow. That's the name of one of your files?""One of my largest, unfortunately.”

“For me, the times I always regret are missed opportunities to say farewell to good people, to wish them long life and say to them in all sincerity, "You build and do not destroy; you sow goodwill and reap it; smiles bloom in the wake of your passing, and I will keep your kindness in trust and share it as occasion arises, so that your life will be a quenching draught of calm in a land of drought and stress." Too often I never get to say that when it should be said. Instead, I leave them with the equivalent of a "Later, dude!" only to discover there would be no later for us.”

“I gladly shucked off my wet, muddy jeans and put on the new pair. I noticed she hadn't bought me any underwear; Granuaile either didn't think of it or she did think of it and decided that I should go commando.I tore open the package of undershirts and gingerly pulled a black one over my head before tucking it into my jeans. Though I was now dressed in similar fashion to Coyote, I figured he could keep the cowboy hat and I'd rock the tattoos. Granuaile gave me a good once-over and her gaze felt less than innocent, but all she said was, "Much better.”

“It's all Irish politics."Hal looked at me sharply and shook a finger in my face. "That's bloody dangerous, getting involved in that. You be careful."I gaped at Hal. "I can't believe you just said that to me.""What?" Hal protested, shrugging his shoulders and looking aggrieved."I called to ask Gunnar for help with the Bacchants yesterday and he shut me down. No well-wishing, no pleas to be careful, nothing. So now we're dealing with the aftermath of what happens when I try to go it alone, , and you tell me to be careful about Irish politics?""Well, I know precisely where Gunnar's coming from. It's not our job to keep the magical peace.""Neither is it mine."”

“It quickly became a tracking operation, though. My chariot could not keep up with his truck. By the time I caught up with him, his truck was parked in one of those asphalt wastelands. What are they called again"?The Tuatha De Danann have no problem asking Druids for information. That's what we're for, after all. The secret to becoming an Old Druid instead of a dead Druid is to betray nary a hint of condescension when answering even the simplest questions."They are called parking lots," I replied."Ah, yes, thank you. He came out of a building called 'Crussh', holding one of these potions. Are you familar with the building, Druid?""I belive that is a smoothie bar in England.""Quite right. So after I killed him and stowed his body next to the doe, I sampled his smooth concoction in the parking lot and found it to be quite delicious".See, sentences like that are why I nurture a healthy fear of the Tuatha De Danann.”

“Peace be with you," I said, and as I turned to resume my journey with Coyote, I added under my breath, "and asskicking be with me.”