“Well, if pirates are bad,
And vampires are worse,
Then I pray that as long as I be
That though I sing of Vampirates
I never one shall see.
Yea, if pirates are danger
And vampires are death,
I'll extend my prayer for thee-
That thine eyes never see a Vampirate
...and they never lay a hand on thee”
“However bad your life appears, things could be far, far worse”
“That should sober him up"
"Actually, he hasn't started drinking yet”
“i’ll tell you a tale of Vampirates,
a tale as old as true.
Yea, I’ll sing you a song of an ancient ship,
that sails the ocean blue...
That haunts the ocean blue.
the Vampirate ship has tattered sails,
that flap like wings in flight.
They say that the Captain, he wears a veil,
so as to curtail your fright.
At his death pale skin,
and his lifeless eyes,
and his teeth sharp as night.
Oh, they say that the Captain, he wears a veil,
and his eyes never see the light.
you better be good child- good as gold.
As good as good can be.
Else I’ll tell you to the in to the vampirates,
and wave you out to sea.
Yes, you’d better be good child- good as gold,
because- lookཀ can you see?,
There’s a dark ship in the harbor tonight.
And there’s room in the hold for thee.
(Plenty of room for thee.)
Well if pirates are bad.
And vampires are worse.
Then I pray, that as long as I be,
that though I sing of Vampirates,
I never one shall I see.
Yea, if Pirates are danger,
and Vampirates are death,
I’ll extend my prayer for thee-
that thine eyes never see a Vampirate...
...and they never lay a hand on thee.”
“It won't be an easy journey - do not expect it to be. But the easy journeys are not worth the leather on the soles of our shoes, boy. It's the journeys that test us to our very core - the journeys that strip the clothes from our back, mess with our minds and shake our spirits - these are the journeys worth taking in life. They show us who we are.”
“There was such a thing as giving too much, after all”
“But I have many things. I have a beautiful home, a thriving business, and the most super wife a man could wish for.”
“Men were ridiculous, in all cultures and across time.”
“This time we weren’t disturbed either by traveling through time or a cheeky gargoyle demon. While “Hallelujah” was running, the kiss was gentle and careful, but then Gideon buried both hands in my hair and held me very close. It wasn’t a gentle kiss anymore, and my reaction surprised me. I suddenly felt very soft and lightweight, and my arms went around Gideon’s neck of their own accord. I had no idea how, but at some point in the next few minutes, still kissing without a break, we landed on the green sofa, and we went on kissing there until Gideon abruptly sat up and looked at his watch.
“Like I said, it really is a shame I’m not allowed to kiss you anymore,” he remarked rather breathlessly. The pupils of his eyes looked huge, and his cheeks were definitely flushed.
I wondered what I looked like myself. As I’d temporarily mutated into some kind of human blancmange, there was no way I could get out of my half-lying position. And I realized, with horror, that I had no idea how much time had passed since Bon Jovi stopped singing “Hallelujah.” Ten minutes? Half an hour? Anything was possible.
Gideon looked at me, and I thought I saw something like bewilderment in his eyes.
“We’d better collect our things,” he said at last. “And you need to do something about your hair—it looks as if some idiot has been digging both hands into it and dragging you down on a sofa. Whoever’s back there waiting for us will put two and two together—oh, my God, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“As if you couldn’t move.”
“But I can’t,” I said, perfectly seriously. “I’m a blancmange. You’ve turned me into blancmange.”
A brief smile brightened Gideon’s face, and then he jumped up and began stowing my school things in my bag. “Come along, little blancmange. Stand up.”
“Birds sat on the telegraph wires that spanned the river as the black notes sit on a staff of music.”
“God, what's in these?" Sam asks, wrinkling his nose.
"Cod, I think," I say. "Close, though."
"I'd laugh, but I'd have to breathe, and that's not something I really want to do right now.”
“Esa trama de tiempos que se aproximan, se bifurcan, se cortan o que secularmente se ignoran, abarca todas la posibilidades. No existimos en la mayoría de esos tiempos; en algunos existe usted y no yo; en otros, yo, no usted; en otros, los dos. En éste, que un favorable azar me depara, usted ha llegado a mi casa; en otro, usted, al atravesar el jardín, me ha encontrado muerto; en otro, yo digo estas mismas palabras, pero soy un error, un fantasma.”
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