“I think this man might actually possess supernatural powers. He makes people lose their minds and I’m sure some of them do lose bladder control as well." "I see. And who is this author" "Neil Fucking Gaiman." "His second name is Fucking?" "No Leif that’s the honorary second name all celebrities are given by their fans. It’s not an insult it’s a huge compliment and he’s earned it.”

“I see. And who is this author?”“Neil Fucking Gaiman.”“His second name is Fucking?”“No, Leif, that’s the honorary second name all celebrities are given by their fans. It’s not an insult, it’s a huge compliment, and he’s earned it. You’d like him. He dresses all in black like you. Read a couple of his books, and then when you meet him, you’ll squee too.”Leif found the suggestion distasteful. “I would never behave with so little dignity. Nor would I wish to be confronted in such a manner by anyone else. Vampires inspire screams, not squees. Involuntary urination is common, I grant, but it properly flows from a sense of terror, not an ecstatic sense of hero worship.”

“You're trying to be cool now, Leif? Seriously?""I am the shit, home slice, straight up," he replied."No. I mean, don't get me wrong, this is a great effort, but you still need to use more contractions. And your tone is so formal, it's like you're complimenting the pudding at a duke's dinner party.""Fucking H!" the vampire shouted, shaking his free left fist. He enunciated the g very clearly and projected his voice from his diaphragm, like a trained opera singer."It's fuckin' A, not H, but yeah Leif, go ahead, let's throw down.”

“If I waved that in front of a museum curator, he'd promptly lose control of his salivary glands.”

“...Having no recourse, I feel back on Shakespeare. Leif would recognize it and understand the context properly. With my remaining few seconds of consciousness, I quoted Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing, who spoke these words to his former friend:"you are a Villain: I jest not." and then I collapsed into a pool of my own blood.”

“-“Say no more,” Leif interrupted. “I understand. I will simply have to kill them all myself.”-"There he goes again. I’m telling you, Danny Elfman would love to get hold of those lines."-"Not John Williams?"-"If you’ve got some hopelessly overmatched heroes fighting evil and some Imperial types marching, John Williams is your guy. You need a song to make people reach for a box of Kleenex, talk to Randy Newman. But if you want creepy atmospherics and spine-shivering chords to back up your casual death threats, you gotta bring in Danny Elfman.”

“Oberon’s been kidnapped along with one of the werewolves, and that’s why we’re all so upset. We’ll talk more tomorrow, and I promise to answer all your questions if I survive the night,” I said. The widow’s eyebrows raised. “Ye’ve got all these nasty pooches to run around with and ye still might die?” “I’m going to go fight with a god, some demons, and a coven of witches who all want to kill me,” I said, “so it’s a distinct possibility.” “Are y’goin’ t’kill ’em back?” “I’d certainly like to.” “Attaboy,” the widow chuckled. “Off y’go, then. Kill every last one o’ the bastards and call me in the mornin’.”