Mulch's tongue lolled out, resting on the centaur's neck. "Mmm," he mumbled around his tongue. "Horse. Tasty" "Let's go," said Foaly nervously. "Let's go right now.
I don't like lollipops.
Satan was crouched in the corner of his office, playing a gameboy, 'Die alien scum' he was saying feverishly.
A fifeteen-year old, of to save the world, with faries. - Angeline Fowl
Mulch was not impressed. 'I'm not impressed,' he said.
You know you're in trouble when your own imagination starts punishing you.