“There we go,” he said cheerfully, after he’d started up a fire. The two puppets, still huddled in his pockets, woke up when they felt the heat of the flames, and they scampered out of sight, squealing for dear life. Oliver laughed. “I’m not going to set you on fire. Come back here.”

“You cannot pass," he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.”

“She said, “I’m going to have you fired.” I had two people say that to me today, “I’m going to have you fired.” Go ahead, be my guest. I’m wearing a green velvet costume; it doesn’t get any worse than this. Who do these people think they are? I’m going to have you fired!” and I wanted to lean over and say, “I’m going to have you killed.”

“Here,” I said, shoving the board into his hands. He started laughing.“WHAT are you laughing at?!” I demanded irritably.“Well, it’s just that… that’s going to hurt a bit, my dear. Go on, bend over. I’ll demonstrate.”

“It would be a far greater sin for you to drift along in a haze of moderation than to start a fire or two. Go fuck some things up.”

“Oliver opened the door of the carriage and found his puppets huddled together on the bench. He gestured for them to come closer. “Hurry,” he hissed. “Unless you want to become as tiny as ants.” “Oliver, did you know that you have a rainbow on your head?” Andrew remarked.”