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Cat's Cradle

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"Look, lads, it's Wanker! Say hello, Wanker!"

"My name'th not Wanker, it'th..."

"Now, now, Wanker, you know it's not polite to disrespect your betters, don't you?"

"Yeth...but..."

The older, bigger boy smiled coldly. "Then, nancy boy, your name is `Wanker' and will always be 'Wanker.'"


The boy sat at his desk sullenly. He refused to cry. He might be weak now...he might lisp...and he might have a sissy name...but he had talent. And someday, he might have a chance to use his talent, to prove to those bullies that he was better than they were.

"Today, children, we shall me doing something special for Arts and Crafts. It's an ancient tradition of string art called `Cat's Cradle.'"

The boy looked up in surprise. "`Cat's Cradle'?"

Perhaps `someday' had arrived sooner than expected.


"After the understandable confusion that accompanied the destruction of the classroom, it was discovered that fourteen of my classmates had been mysteriously...decapitated. It was a notorious case that monopolized the tabloid newspaper headlines for several weeks thereafter. That, incidentally, was my last day at St. Albans' Kindergarten."

Seras blanched. "Oh dear God in heaven."

Alucard smirked. "Told you not to let Walter reminisce."