Uh-oh,' said Gazzy, but Angel was so nauseated she didn't have time to leap to a safe distance, or grab a gas mask
Bbbbbrrrrrrrttthhhhhhttttttt.
'Mother of God, no!' Total cried, doing a fast belly-crawl to the pool and throwing himself in. 'You said it wasn't your digestive system!'
'What was that?' Dylan asked. He winced and threw an arm oer his nose and mouth.
...
'Sorry,' Gazzy said miserably, but he couldn't help a tiny grin.
Nudge was clawing at a stack of towels to cover her face.
'Nice one, Gaz,' said Iggy.
...
'Wait-that was Gazzy? Is that why you call him...Oh, crap,' Dylan said weakly.
About author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: March 22, 1947
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My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time. These memories, which are my life—for we possess nothing certainly except the past—were always with me. Like the pigeons of St. Mark’s, they were everywhere, under my feet, singly, in pairs, in little honey-voiced congregations, nodding, strutting, winking, rolling the tender feathers of their necks, perching sometimes, if I stood still, on my shoulder or pecking a broken biscuit from between my lips;...
Evelyn Waugh
One egg, one embryo, one adult - normality. But a bokanovskified egg will bud, will proliferate, will divide. From eight to ninety-six buds, and every bud will grow into a perfectly formed embryo, and every embryo into a full-sized adult. Making ninety-six human beings grow where one grew before. Progress.
Aldous Huxley