Andy Warhol Shadows I

Andy Warhol Shadows IAndy Warhol OxidationAndy Warhol Neuschwanstein
great delicacy the staff turned slowly in the air until it hung in front of Granny a few inches above the ice. Frost glittered on its carvings, but it seemed to Cutangle - through the red haze of migraine that hovered in front of his eyes - to be watching him. Resentfully.
Granny you no shame, lying around sulking when you could be of some use at last?"
She leaned forward, her hooked nose a few inches from the staff. Cutangle was almost certain that the staff tried to lean backwards out of her way.adjusted her hat and straightened up purposefully. "Right," she said. Cutangle swayed. The tone of voice cut through him like a diamond saw. He could dimly remember being scolded by his mother when he was small; well, this was that voice, only refined and concentrated and edged with little bits of carborundum, a tone of command that would have a corpse standing to attention and could probably have marched it halfway across its cemetery before it remembered it was dead. Granny stood in front of the hovering staff, almost melting its icy covering by the sheer anger in her gaze. "This is your idea of proper behaviour, is it? Lying around on the sea while people die? Oh, very well done!" She stomped around in a semi-circle. To Cutangle's bewilderment, the staff turned to follow her. "So you were thrown away," snapped Granny. "So what? She's hardly more than a child, and children throw us all away sooner or later. Is this loyal service? Have