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She felt an odd tingling in the back of her head. Her sister had told her about this when her Knack had shown itself to be the ability to make budgerigars speak Russian. A tingly, mellow sort of feeling, it had been. Constance had never had her Knack show up. Some people never did. This could not possibly be a Knack, anyway. It was tingly in a mauve sort of way. She gasped, looking around. No budgerigars, thank God. Across the room a man wearing a floppy flight cap was staring at her in an odd way. A Marine walloped him hard and he went down. The tingling stopped.
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"tingly in a mauve sort of way". of course.
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Now, this was the life! Let those other professors of archeology sit in their ivory tower endowed chairs and pontificate on Early American Native Religious Practices 101! Augie Slopeton from the Bronx was a head butting, ear gouging, hands on researcher. And he never got his white linen suit dirty. It paid to have a Knack sometimes, just for the show of it.
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Having barroom brawls occasionally was one thing, but having them started by a talking dog with a drinking problem was, in Sam's mind, unseemly.
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"Oh, no one. Just an itinerant typist."
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pfff ! like anyone will believe that.
hilarious, pshrynk !! seriously. it's almost like you've been practising or something.
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Originally Posted by Filark
I think I'll join your fan club.
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i think the fan club is going to need a bigger room for meetings.