You’d best make peace with your dear and fluffy Lord. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster. Like, is the hippo going,’Hey, man, where are my pants? I have my hippo dignity!’ A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way. Time for some thrilling heroics.
If I could make you purtier, I would. See if you were really a witch, you’d do a spell to escape.
They need to take seven and they might take yours. It was the pioneer days; people had to make their own interrogation rooms. Out of cornmeal. I find it a bit sad that you think of yourself as a candidate for anyone’s fantasy. I hate to bring up our imminent arrest during your crazy time, but we gotta move. My egg is Jewish. I’ve got four brothers, none of them Democrats.