Cook, at that moment in time, I would have sold my body for a mocha latte.
My prodding me didn’t elicit a reaction. His unseeing eyes stared straight through me. Which was odd. He’d seemed so sane huddled in Cookie’s trunk.
I suck at all this supernatural stuff. But I fry a mean chicken. Oh, good. I hate it when the nice ones get fried.
In Cookie’s defense, it was raining wildcats and rabid dogs.
Who knew Demon Child would have such a normal name? I expected something exotic like Serena or Destiny or the Evil One That Comes in the Night to Make Us Chilly.
What in the name of Zeus’s testicles?
Do not disturb. Already there.
I shifted in my chair as Dad waited for a response. He seemed determined, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possibly Milk Duds. “Are you psychotic?” I asked, realizing my plan to charm and bribe him if need be flew out the window the minute I opened my mouth.
Insanity does NOT run in my family. It strolls through, takes it’s time, and gets to know everyone personally – T-Shirt.
Drink coffee! Do stupid things faster and with more energy!
Glitch was about as wild and unpredictable as a carrot stick.
But give up my business? The same business I’d built from the ground up with my own two hands and designer Louis Vuittons? The same business for which I’d sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears? Well, maybe not sweat and tears, but there was blood. Lots of blood. Give it up? Not likely. Besides, what else would I do? I totally should’ve gone to Hogwarts when I had the chance.
I love language, words, and all the lovely, exciting, and heart wrenching things you can do with them. Pick the right ones, put them in the right order, and you’ve created a moment in time where the reader forgets about the late car payment, the dirty dishes, the impending workweek. You have created a state of bliss. Or negligence, depending on your perspective.
I don’t think I get enough credit for the fact that I do all of this unmedicated. – T-SHIRT.
A friend will help you if someone knocks you down. A best friend will pick up a bat and say, “Stay down. I got this.
I’m like crack. People don’t want to like me, but once they get a taste, they always come back for more.
I don’t understand your specific kind of crazy, but I do admire your commitment to it.
The fact that there’s a Highway to Hell and only a Stairway to Heaven says a lot about anticipated traffic numbers. –.
Of course I’m an organ donor. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? – T-SHIRT.
I knew it!” she said, glaring at me. “You’re in league with the devil.” “Duh. I’m affianced to him. Or, well, his son. I guess that makes me ‘in league’ with him, but you can’t judge people by their in-laws. In-laws are all crazy. Everyone knows that.