Sunday, October 15, 2006
"Blood-curdling..." -- Part 17
"Get over it, Devorah," Haggis said. "I care not what you think of me. I am a published author and you are not. So there."
"There, what, Haggis? Neener-neener-neener? You are how many hundreds of years old? Grow up. The joke is on you. You were printed, darling. Printed. Which is nothing to brag about, dearie. Have you thought of enrolling in writing classes?"
"Why should I? I already have three published books."
"Three printed books, you mean."
"Semantics," Haggis said dismissively.
"I've seen them, madam," Devorah countered. "You can barely spell your own name."
"Look, are you going to help me out here or not? Because if not, I can just eat you up and go somewhere else for help."
"Careful, snake girl," Devorah warned, "or I shall consider introducing you to my hungry mongoose. Besides, you would play hell eating me. I may help you, I may not. It depends upon what manner of payment you offer."