Artemis: (shocked) Why, Doctor? This is a sensitive area. For all you know I could be suffering from depression. Doctor Po: I suppose you could. Is that the case? Artemis: (head in hands) It's my mother, Doctor. Doctor Po: Yes? Artemis: My mother, she... Doctor Po: Your mother, yes? Artemis: She forces me to endure this ridiculous therapy when the school's so-called counsellors are little better than misguided do-gooders with degrees.
Let us proceed under the assumption that the fairy folk do exist, and that I am not a gibbering moron.
They have gone. And the tunnel is about to close. So, boys, I am looking for someone to blame.
Don't you worry about that, Mr. Adamsson. Why don't you head back to Reykjavik and spend some of that extortionate fee you charged me for a couple of hours' usage of your frankly third-rate restaurant and perhaps find a friendless tree stump to listen to your woes?
I am perhaps unusual in that I came to 'Doctor Who' through the numerous novelisations and not through the television show.
Don't try to understand me, just be grateful that you felt the warmth of Zaphod Beeblebrox's aura on your wonderstruck face.
Are you saying that you people knew about these amorophobots all the time?" "Of course we did. They attacked us in Iceland. Remember?" "No. I was unconscious.
The name's Bond. James Omar Bond.
Foaly twitched his tail contentedly. Genius. No point in being humble about it.
Artemis Fowl grinned right back at him and pointed his index finger to the sky... from the tip of this finger sprang a small blue spark that exploded like a tiny firework. “I know magic can be stolen,” said Artemis. “Because I stole some myself.
I have no time for babbling foolishness.” “Don’t be so hasty,” said Victor. “There’s always time for babbling.
Not me," said Orion cheerily. "I'm just a teenager with hormones running wild. And may I say ,young fairy lady, they're running wild in your direction." Holly lifted her visor and looked the hormonal teenager in the eye. "This had better not be a game, Artemis. If you do not have some serious psychosis, you will be sorry." "Oh, I'm crazy, alright. I do have plenty of psychoses," said Orion Cheerily. "Multiple personality, delusional dementia, OCD. I've got them all, but most of all, I'm crazy about you.
If things go badly for me tonight, I want you to stay with Mr. Wynter; he will pay you a decent wage.” “Will he make me bathe?” “No, he will debate the matter with you until you decide to wash.” “Ah. One of those.
A metaphorical weight lifted from his allegorical chest and Artemis Fowl felt himself again.
Me," Artemis blurted. "I'm the nut." Artemis could have sworn the squid winked at him before bringing the five-ton chunk of spacecraft swinging down toward the morsel of meat in its blue shell. "I'm the nut!" Artemis shouted again, a little hysterically, it must be said.
So, what did you get for me?" Angeline paused for a beat. "Jeans." "What?" croaked Artemis. "And a T-shirt.
Orion brightened. "I have an idea." "Yes?" said Foaly, daring to hope that a spark of Artemis remained. "Why don't we look for some magic stones that can grant wishes? Or, if that doesn't work, you could search my naked body for some mysterious birthmark that means I am actually the prince of somewhere or other.
It was calling me, that button," he offered as his excuse. "I couldn't resist." -MULCH DIGGUMS ON A HIGHLY PRESS-ABLE BUTTON-
Thankfully the rest of the world assumed that the Irish were crazy, a theory that the Irish themselves did nothing to debunk. They had somehow got it into their heads that each fairy lugged around a pot of gold with him wherever he went. While it was true that LEP had a ransom fund, because of its officers' high-risk occupation, no human had ever taken a chunk of it yet. This didn't stop the Irish population in general from skulking around rainbows, hoping to win the supernatural lottery.
Meg and Belch only had eyes for each other. Not in the usual romantic sense.
Is that how you're going to take me? Scare me into voluntarily coming aboard, then steal my Ice Cube?" "It's always cubes with you," noted Foaly, somewhat randomly. "What's wrong with a nice sphere?
Benny was awake again. Happened every morning.
Too much damned TV. Thinks he's Sherlock Holmes." "That's professor Moriarty," corrected Foaly. "Holmes, Moriarty, they both look the same with the flesh scorched off their skulls.
Play along, the wink said. I'll get you out of this. At least Artemis hoped this was what his wink communicated and not something like 'Any chance of another kiss later?
I'm on my feet, pacing around the room, punching a fist into my palm, which I stop doing when I realise how drama queen it feels.
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