The only other scenario that could explain everything, up to and including your own bizarre apperance, is a convoluted conspiracy theory involving the Russian Mafia and a crack team of plastic surgeons.

Holly winked. 'Do I look like a fly boy to you, Fowl?' Artemis had to admit that she didn't. Captain Short was extremely pretty in a dangerous sort of way. Black-widow pretty. Artemis was expecting puberty to hit in approximately eight months, and he suspected that at that point he would look at Holly in a different light. It was probably just as well that she was eighty years old.

Really, I'm trying to care, Artemis, really. But I thought it was all supposed to be over when the fat lady sings. Well, she's singing, but it doesn't appear to be over

We lost the crickets," she said. "Even you can't make that sound tough." ..."I am Butler," he said with a straight-face. "Everything I say sounds tough. Now, get out of the lake, fairy.

Knock yourself out... Or rather, don't.

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?

Confidence is ignorance. If you're feeling cocky, it's because there's something you don't know.