“The key to faking deaths is a fine appreciation of arterial spray patterns. I have found that blood bags work very well at simulating spray with a strategically poked hole; apply pressure to the bottom of the bag, practice a bit, and before long you will be able to write stories of carnage and odes to gore.A small fan brush-the sort that one dude used to paint happy little trees-can paint a picture of blunt force spatters if you flick the surface properly. You could even talk to yourself, as that painter did, while you flick blood around: "And maybe over here we have a nice stab wound. And, I don't know, maybe there's a few more back over here. Multiple stab wounds. It doesn't matter, whatever you feel like.”

“How would you take care of it?” I asked.He shrugged. “I know some ghouls. I make a couple calls, the guys come over for dinner, problem solved.”“They can put away nine whole giants? There’s that many ghouls in town?”“Probably not,” Leif admitted. “But whatever they do not eat tonight, they’ll take the rest to go.”I stared at him in disbelief. “You mean like a doggie bag?”The vampire nodded with a thin trace of a smile. “They have a refrigerated truck, Atticus. These are practical guys.”

“When there's blood involved, you always use every advantage you have to make sure it's theirs that spills and not yours. If you want to feel guilty about taking unfair advantage afterward, you go ahead and feel that shit. But live to feel it.”

“...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.”

“Granuaile looked terminally depressed when she emerged from the bathroom with raven hair and, as a result rather Goth by accident. She didn't want to get her picture taken."Aughh!" she said miserably, looking in the vanity mirror in the truck of the cab and fingering a wavy curl near her temple. "This sucks more than anything has ever sucked before. You know what we look like? A couple of emo douche bags.""Well, look at the bright side, Granuaile. Emo Douche Bags would be a great band name."[That's brilliant! It's already the unofficial name of more bands than I can count.]”

“Did you get me that movie about Genghis Khan?'It's in the Netflix queue, but that's not the surprise. You don't need to worry, it'll be something good. I just don't want you to feel depressed about going home.'Oh, I won't. But it would be cool to have a stream like this in the backyard. Can you make one?'Ummm... no.'I figured. Can't blame a hound for trying.Oberon was indeed surprised when we got back home to Tempe. Hal had made the arrangements for me and Oberon perked up as soon as we were dropped off by the shuttle from the car rental company.'Hey, smells like someone's in my territory,' he said.'Nobody could be here without my permission, you know that.''Flidais did it.''That isn't Flidais you smell, believe me.'I opened the front door, and Oberon immediately ran to the kitchen window that gazed upon the backyard. He barked joyously when he saw what was waiting for him there.'French poodles! All black and curly with poofy little tails!''And every one of them in heat.''Oh, WOW! Thanks Atticus! I can't wait to sniff their asses!'He bounded over to the door and pawed at it because the doggie door was closed to prevent the poodles from entering.'You earned it, buddy. Hold on, get down off the door so I can open it for you, and be careful, don't hurt any of them.'I opened the door, expecting him to bolt through it and dive into his own personal canine harem, but instead he took one step and stopped, looking up at me with a mournful expression, his ears drooping and a tiny whine escaping his snout.'Only five?”

“You, sir," I said, "have all the dignity of a badger with the clap. Shark shit has more fiber than you. I'm going to tie your nuts-first to a monkey's cage and make a mix tape of the resulting noise. Then I'm going to take a bag of marshmallows and a pair of granny panties and-"...... He didn't want to know what I was going to do with those granny panties. Surprisingly, Granuaile did. "Sensei, what were you going to do with those marshmallows and panties?" she whispered as we walked together. "I mean, I'm sure it had to be dire, but it just didn't sound as threatening as the potential havoc a monkey could wreak on his sack.""There was more to that recipe," I admitted. "He cut me off before I could get to the Icy Hot and the gopher snake.”