Splinter Rat Quotes

One looks down from the Brooklyn Bridge on a spot of foam or a little lake of gasoline or a broken splinter or an empty scow; the world goes by upside down with pain and light devouring the innards, the sides of flesh bursting, the spears pressing in against the cartilage, the very armature of the body floating off into nothingness . . . One walks the street at night with the bridge against the sky like a harp and the festered eyes of sleep burn into the shanties, deflower the walls; the stairs collapse in a smudge and the rats scamper across the ceiling; a voice is nailed against the door and long creepy things with furry antennae and thousand legs drop from the pipes like beads of sweat.

With hardly a pause she moved on again, questing. Next it was a small fish . . . then another frog . . . and then a real prize: a water-rat that squeaked and writhed and tried to bite. She crushed the life out of it and stuffed it into her mouth, paws and all. A moment later she bent her head down and regurgitated the waste – a twisted mass of fur and splintered bones. Show him this, then – always assuming that he and Jake get back from whatever adventure they’re on, that is. And say, ‘I know that women are supposed to have strange cravings when they carry a child, Eddie, but doesn’t this seem a little too strange? Look at her, questing through the reeds and ooze like some sort of human alligator. Look at her and tell me she’s doing that in order to feed your child. Any human child.’ Still he would argue. Roland knew it. What he didn’t know was what Susannah herself might do when Roland told her she was growing something that craved raw meat in the middle of the night. And as if this business wasn’t worrisome enough, now there was todash. And strangers who had come looking for them. Yet the strangers were the least of his problems. In fact, he found their presence almost comforting. He didn’t know what they wanted, and yet he did know. He had met them before, many times. At bottom, they always wanted the same thing.

Nolan decided that was a good prompt to jump in. “Yeah! You shitbag fuck-monkey! Go gargle troll dicks, you puss-ridden waste of air! Your mother likes to get double teamed by forest giants! Your dad pays sewer rats to nibble on his junk!” Everyone stared down at the boy in silence. Even a few people walking by had stopped to stare at the kid.

Birds of the Western Front Your mess-tin cover's lost. Kestrels hover above the shelling. They don't turn a feather when hunting-ground explodes in yellow earth, flickering star-shells and flares from the Revelation of St John. You look away from artillery lobbing roar and suck and snap against one corner of a thicket to the partridge of the war zone making its nest in shattered clods. History floods into subsoil to be blown apart. You cling to the hard dry stars of observation. How you survive. They were all at it: Orchids of the Crimea nature notes from the trench leaving everything unsaid - hell's cauldron with souls pushed in, demons stoking flames beneath - for the pink-flecked wings of a chaffinch flashed like mediaeval glass. You replace gangrene and gas mask with a dream of alchemy: language of the birds translating human earth to abstract and divine. While machine-gun tracery gutted that stricken wood you watched the chaffinch flutter to and fro through splintered branches, breaking buds and never a green bough left. Hundreds lay in there wounded. If any, you say, spotted one bird they may have wondered why a thing with wings would stay in such a place. She must have, sure, had chicks she was too terrified to feed, too loyal to desert. Like roots clutching at air you stick to the lark singing fit to burst at dawn sounding insincere above the burning bush: plough-land latticed like folds of brain with shell-ravines where nothing stirs but black rats, jittery sentries and the lice sliding across your faces every night. Where every elixir's gone wrong you hold to what you know. A little nature study. A solitary magpie blue and white spearing a strand of willow. One for sorrow. One for Babylon, Ninevah and Northern France, for mice and desolation, the burgeoning barn-owl population and never a green bough left.

Hall pointed the nozzle and let it go. It hit with a white explosion of spray, knocking over a desk and smashing two chairs to splinters. Rats ran everywhere, bigger than any Hall had ever seen. He could hear men crying out in disgust and horror as they fled, things with huge eyes and sleek, plump bodies. He caught a glimpse of one that looked as big as a healthy six-week puppy. He kept on until he could see no more, then shut the nozzle down.

I was immediately reminded of Master Splinter the rat sensei from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

A Tiberian Rat, a Pegasus and an Incubus walk into a bar,” I started and Lyle rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “They sit down together and notice there’s a huge pot of gold sitting on the bar. So the Pegasus calls out to the bartender, ‘Hey, what’s all that gold for?’ and the bartender says, ‘It’s a prize for anyone who can drink an entire bottle of Sourache. Competitors have to go into that room over there and pull a splinter from a pissed off Dragon Shifter’s foot in his Order form, then go upstairs and fuck the hundred year old lady up there until she’s satisfied’.” Lyle was chuckling already but I wasn’t done yet. “’Alright, we’ll give it a go!’ the Tiberian Rat says enthusiastically and he stands up to go first. He drinks almost all of the bottle of Sourache then stumbles forward and collapses unconscious on the floor. The Pegasus steps up next, drinks the entire bottle of Sourache then staggers into the room with the Dragon Shifter. A tremendous roar sounds followed by a terrified whinny, and a second later the Pegasus comes running back out of the room in his Order form with one of his wings burned off. Unshaken, the Incubus rises to the challenge. He grabs a bottle of Sourache off of the bar and drinks the whole thing.” Lyle gave me his full attention, his eyes wide as the punchline loomed. “The Incubus strides confidently into the room with the Dragon Shifter and another tremendous roar carries to the bar, followed by another and another, then the entire bar trembles and shakes as a loud banging sounds against the door.” I grinned at Lyle, as he stared at me with undisguised delight in his eyes. “The Incubus steps out of the room, bleeding and battered and says, ‘Now, where is that lady with the splinter in her foot…