Small Favor (The Dresden Files, #10)

by Jim Butcher

“If the book is right, I just got jumped by gruffs.” Bob’s romance novel dropped to the surface of the shelf. He made a choking sound. “Um. Did you say gruffs?” I scowled at him and he began to giggle. The skull rattled against the shelf. “Gruffs?” He tittered. “What?” I said, offended. “As in ‘The Three Billy Goats Gruff’?” The skull howled with laughter. “You just got your ass handed to you by a nursery tale?” “I wouldn’t say they handed me my ass,” I said. Bob was nearly strangling on his laughter, and given that he had no lungs it seemed gratuitous somehow. “That’s because you can’t see yourself,” he choked out. “Your nose is all swollen up and you’ve got two black eyes. You look like a raccoon. Holding a dislocated ass.” “You didn’t see these things in action,” I said. “They were strong, and pretty smart. And there were four of them.” “Just like the Four Horsemen!” he said. “Only with petting zoos!”