“That’s my darling little doggie. Bubbles by name, bubbles for brains. You’ve got to love him.”
“When a bloke takes you out for a meal You’d think sex would be part of the deal Not a pat on the head And a cold lonely bed When he leaves without copping a feel”
“Knut, this is Jude. Remember I told you about him? He writes poetry.” Knut looked my half-Japanese self up and down. “Haiku?” he guessed. “Gesundheit,” I muttered sourly.”
“I frowned. “Are you sure about this? It’s a bit short.” “So? It’s poetry, not dick size.”
“So come on, tell me all the dirt about your date. Did he tie you up with his black belt? Show off his mystic knowledge of Eastern sex practices? What?” I let my head slump into my hands. “He gave me a kiss and said good night.” “He didn’t! The bastard.”
“A pirate once shouted ‘Avast! I’ve caught you, you seadog, at last! Best pull out your sword— I’m coming aboard! Drop your britches, and climb up me mast!”
“All right, here’s a limerick: A young martial artist called Dave Was fearless and handsome and brave He saved me from thugs When I nearly got mugged So now I’m forever Dave’s slave.” There was a short silence. I cringed. “Um, sorry. Came out a bit gay, that one.” Bugger, bugger, bugger.”
“Look, I really appreciate you bringing me here, but I think there’s something you ought to know about me.” David smiled. “If it’s that you’re gay—“ Oh, puh-leeze. “No—God, no. I mean, yes, obviously, I’m fruitier than a greengrocers’ convention, but no, that wasn’t what I was about to say.”
“No, that’s just Saturdays.” The whisper came from an orange-belted ninja. Did that make him a ginja?”
“Lead me!” I told him fervently. “Astray is, like, my favourite place ever.”
“You’re a darling, Keisha. If you weren’t a girl, I’d marry you.” “If I wasn’t a girl, I’d run a bloody mile next time I saw you coming.” “But, sweetie, you’ve never actually seen me coming. Unless you’ve got a spy camera rigged up in my bedroom, of course.”
“A young man, when sliced up by glass From a footballer’s tragic mis-pass Said, ‘Hey, there’s no harm Done; it’s only an arm. I’m just thankful it wasn’t my arse.”
“Keisha frowned. “Maybe he’s hoping for hidden depths?” “I haven’t even got hidden”
“I was worried I’d scared you off,” I said as I slid into the passenger seat. “Being too gay and all.” “No—I, er…” He hesitated, and I looked at him sharply. Well, slightly less bluntly, anyway. My head still hurt. “I don’t have a problem with you being gay, Jude. I’m…well, I’m into blokes myself.” “You are?” I may have squeaked a bit. “But you’re so…” Butch, I should have said. And manly, and muscular, and gorgeous, and I bet you’re hairy too in all the right places. What came out was, “Straight.”
“We all walked down the street together, looking like a sort of pick-and-mix adopted family: dad, disabled mum, and two differently mixed-race kids. Madonna would have been so proud of us.”
“I’ll learn all the katas and be the ninjing-est ninja that ever ninjed.” Bubbles whined, so I bent down to rub his silky little head. “Is it the c-word, Bubbs? Don’t you worry, we love the doggas as well as the katas.” David laughed.”
“Roll over," he said, his voice all rough. "Jude, I want to be inside you. Is that okay?"
I sort of whimpered. Then nodded vigorously, in case he couldn't speak whimper.”
“Sod it. If he laid a finger on my David, I’d just have to use my newfound martial arts mojo and kick him in the Knuts.”
“I’m fruitier than a greengrocers’ convention,”
“No need to read anything into it.” “Yeah, right. ’Cept it’s your tightest jeans, the ones that’ll give you gangrene in your nuts if you’re not careful,”
“He gave me a kiss and said good night.” “He didn’t! The bastard.” “Yeah,” I muttered to the tabletop. “He said he’d had a nice time.” “I’ll sodding kill him. What went wrong, Judi-babe?”
“Are you sure about this? It’s a bit short.” “So? It’s poetry, not dick size.”
“Oh my God, you’re right! Our third date. We should totally have sex now!” It wasn’t my fault the waiter was walking past just as I said it and dropped the plate he was carrying. David stopped trying and laughed out loud.”
“We all mess up. It's what we learn from our mistakes that matters.”
“A common question asked of Mr. Fenn was, “How old is the boy?” to which Mr. Fenn’s reply, year after year, was, “He has been somewhere between twelve and thirteen since the day I laid eyes on him.”
“The baby closed its mouth, staring at him with hope and small hiccups.
“Jesus,” he said. He lay down on the bed, pulling the pillow under his head, and drew the whole bundle of coat, shawl and infant up against his shirt. A tiny hand closed tight on the lace. One sob erupted, and then changed midbreath to a soft sigh.
Women, he thought sardonically, sinking in the bedclothes, with sleep revolving and closing in his head. He moved one finger, feeling a cheek as soft as down.
What’s your name?
Ask the girl. Remember that…
Maddy…
It was wrong. I must leave thee now.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry, little girl… I’m so tired. I never deserved you, did I? Maddy… but I loved you.
I always loved you.”
“What’s wrong, Hollypaw?” Leafpool looked up. “You look as though you’ve just lost our entire supply of poppy seeds!” Then her face grew serious. “You haven’t, have you?”
“How little a thing can make us happy when we feel that we have earned it.”
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