Kel thought of those moments on Peachblossom’s back when she lowered her lance at the quintain, and knew in the feel of the horse, and the weapon, and her arm, that she had it perfectly.
“I have two young boys. And every time we go somewhere, I’m not even thinking about my fun. I only think about their fun. I’ve been to the zoo a million times because the small one loves the monkeys. Last week we went to see Hotel Transylvania III. I’ve already seen two of those things. This time the monsters took a vacation. To be honest, I don’t even think there was a story. The monsters just kept interacting with people on the boat. I wasn’t really paying attention, but the boys loved it. I enjoyed their reactions more than the movie. I watched their faces the entire time. And whenever they laughed, I laughed.” (Cairo, Egypt)
There was a Serpent who had to sing. There was. There was. He simply gave up Serpenting. Because. Because. He didn’t like his Kind of Life; He couldn’t find a proper Wife; He was a Serpent with a soul; He got no Pleasure down his Hole. And so, of course, he had to Sing, And Sing he did, like Anything! The Birds, they were, they were Astounded; And various Measures Propounded To stop the Serpent’s Awful Racket: They bought a Drum. He wouldn’t Whack it. They sent, —you always send, —to Cuba And got a Most Commodious Tuba; They got a Horn, they got a Flute, But Nothing would suit. He said, “Look, Birds, all this is futile: I do not like to Bang or Tootle.” And then he cut loose with a Horrible Note That practically split the Top of his Throat. “You see,” he said, with a Serpent’s Leer, “I’m Serious about my Singing Career!” And the Woods Resounded with many a Shriek As the Birds flew off to the end of Next Week.
