tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3956946145369766361.post-65247659824515282572007-07-25T14:30:00.000-06:002007-07-25T14:38:01.734-06:007.25.07<br />All right, who let Rubythorn onto this thing? Can faeries even use computers? Must be iron in those machines somewhere. <br /><br />So that's the book. And that's supposed to be me and Mersey? Hmm... She is a gorgeous bird, clinging to me like a sparrow to a hawk. She looks innocent in the picture, but trust me, blokes, she's a spitfire. A confusing mixture of girlie, adventurous and cat (yeah, I mean cat, as in a feline with four legs, fur and a tail). You ever make out with a woman and realize she's purring? Mersey purrs. Damn, I love her purrs.<br /><br />Er.<br /><br />Right.<br /><br />The picture. Rubythorn is right. That's not me. Handsome enough bloke, but I don't think that fellow could wield the weaponery I carry around on my back, let alone toss a salt grenade and hit a demon between the eyes on the first try. Because there are no second tries.<br /><br />There's the London Eye in the background. First time I ever went up on that thing was with Mersey. Just the two of us in that glass-enclosed capsule, looking out over the gorgeous London skyline. I think I fell in love with Mersey in that capsule. Or maybe it was when we were tromping through that nutty ever-changing forest in search of faeries. <br /><br />Or maybe, it was the first time I laid eyes on her. I was hunting demons; she was too. I was all business. She...changed my mind with a kiss.<br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_DkECXsJ7lNE/Rqe0mpLpP6I/AAAAAAAAAcA/cwOULFlXYJU/s1600-h/jackharris.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_DkECXsJ7lNE/Rqe0mpLpP6I/AAAAAAAAAcA/cwOULFlXYJU/s400/jackharris.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091236479748358050" /></a>Michele Haufhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12255612473985897103noreply@blogger.com