“The are no words. It was like The Lord of the Rings and All My Children made a baby with Macho Man Randy Savage and a Whac-A-Mole machine.”
- Bob the Skull while describing the good old days in the Faerie Realms
From Ghost Story by Jim Butcher
Bob rolled his eyelights. “It’s a semidivine immortal, Harry. It doesn’t procreate. It has no need to recombine DNA. That means that gender simply doesn’t apply. That’s something only you meat sacks worry about.”
“Then why is it that you stare at naked girls every chance you get,” I said, “but not naked men?”
“It’s an aesthetic choice,” Bob said loftily. “As a gender, women exist on a plane far beyond men when it comes to the artistic appreciation of external beauty.”
“And they have boobs,” I said.
“And they have boobs!” Bob agreed with a leer."
Epic sex?” I sputtered. “By what standards, precisely, is sex judged to be epic?”
“And tons and tons of mortal simps like you used as pawns.” Bob sighed happily, ignoring my question. “There are no words. It was like the Lord of the Rings and All My Children made a baby with the Macho Man Randy Savage and a Whac-A-Mole machine."