I Don't Want Unnecessary Violence, Sergeant," Said

I Really Wish That Peoplewould Just Say, 'yes, It's A Comic. Yes, This Is Fantasy. Yes, This Is Science Fiction,' And Defend The Genre Instead Of Saying, 'horror Is A Bit Passe So This Is Dark Fantasy,' And That' S Playing Someone Else's Game. So That's Why I Say I'm A Fantasy Writer And To Hell With 'it Doesn't Read Like What I Think Of As A Fantasy'. In That Case What You Think Of As A Fantasy Is Not A Fantasy. Or There Is More To It Than You Think.

Historical Re-creation, He Thought Glumly, As They Picked Their Way Across, Under, Over Or Through The Boulders And Insect-buzzing Heaps Of Splintered Timber, With Streamlets Running Everywhere. Only We Do It With People Dressing Up And Running Around With Blunt Weapons, And People Selling Hot Dogs, And The Girls All Miserable Because They Can Only Dress Up As Wenches, Wenching Being The Only Job Available To Women In The Olden Days.

He Thought About How It Might Be To Be, Say, A Fox Confronted With An Angry Sheep. A Sheep Moreover, That Could Afford To Employ Wolves.

Death Was Standing Behind A Lectern, Poring Over A Map. He Looked At Mort As If He Wasn’t Entirely There. You Haven't Heard Of The Bayof Mante, Have You? He Said. “no, Sir,” Said Mort. Famous Shipwreck There. “was There?” There Will Be, Said Death, If I Can Find The Damn Place.

Child. That Was A Terrible Thing To Say To Anyone Who Was Almost Thirteen.