You may notice that my handwriting is a little funny today, and that is because I have been turned into a puppet. It's a long story, involving demons living in a kids' television program, but the short of it is that I will eventually be fine. The demons are dead, and the spell will wear off. Spike has been the worst about it, calling me "wee puppet man," but on the bright side I have been able to have some nice talks with Nina, a nice werewolf girl I met. Granted, she almost mauled me that one time, but I do resemble a chew toy, so I can't really blame her. And compared to my past relationships -- getting stabbed through the chest by one, getting cheated on with my own son by another -- a little light mauling is practically foreplay.
AAAAAHHHH! I AM ON FIRE! HELP! HELP! VAMPIRE ON FIRE! THIS IS NOT GOOD! THIS IS NOT GOOD! I AM WRITING THIS DOWN IN MY DIARY SO THAT I CAN THROW IT OUT A WINDOW AND PERHAPS SUMMON SOME HELP. HOPEFULLY, THE FINDER WILL FLIP TO THIS LAST ENTRY TO SEE WHAT MY MOST RECENT THOUGHTS ON RESCUE ARE. WHOOPS! THE PAGES ARE STARTING TO CATCH FIRE, AS WELL! WHAT SHALL I DO? WHAT SHALL I--
the rest of the entry is too blackened by flames to read.]
Lestat (Interview With the Vampire)
So I'm hanging out at Fangtasia tonight, right? Just sittin' on my throne, scopin' out the joint, lookin' bad-ass... you know, a typical Tuesday. And then this dude comes up to me and says, "Hey, do you mind if I lick your boots?" And I'm like, hey, sure, why not, but when he goes to lick them I kicked him right in the face. It was pretty hardcore. I had Pam toss him into the parking lot, and had Long Shadow pour me another glass of Tru Blood. I think one of the humans on the staff is skimming, so I may have Bill bring his new lady friend over to read some minds. I mean, hey, what's the worst that could happen?
Eric Northman (True Blood)
if you missed it.