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"Amm," said he, pulling at one his chin brades.
"Tales there are, in Europe, of those with your
eccentric proclivities, but no scientific proof exists.
Let's have a feel of your teeth, lass."
Staring off into space, he lifted my upper lip with a
thumb and felt along my teeth with a finger --
"Nothing untoward here. Eye and stomach teeth
of normal length and sharpness. Any other symtoms,
beside the craving?" -- inquisitive fingers were cruising
back along my palette to within grappling distance of my glottis.
"Mffgg."
"I mean, any changes happen after drinking it?"
A twinkle enlivened his blind old eyes, the likes of which
I had never seen, and I thought -- why not tell the sweet
old pirate what he'll want to hear? The rub was, I knew
none of the tales he had heard, so I made to improvise.
I gripped his wrist and extracted his hand.
"Well, sir, the
first time it happened, I took no sleep for near a week,
nor had I need of it." In fact, this had naught to do with
the blood and rum, but described my habitual state.
When one has the luck to work at what one truly loves,
little is needed of sleep.
"Curious! What other effects had ye from it?"
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