![]() ![]() ![]() “But that’s not a good thing to talk about,” said the Emperor of China.”Best to be a Ghoul. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you’re not really around very long to enjoy it.” “One way or another,” said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, “you’ll become one of us. “But I don’t want to become one of you,” said Bod. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits (“Plague Pits is good eatin’,” said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been. Why, it didn’t matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. ![]()
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