I had a horrible feeling my leg was broken. If it wasn’t, it had a lot of explaining to do.
What’s your specialty? Oh, you know. Madness. Mayhem. Debauchery. And even with all that going for me, I can still make a mean mojito.
SARC- was my second favorite -ASM word.
I have them a few minutes to absorb everything while I teased Ubie, who only had to recover from his near-death experience. I was so glad Reyes hadn’t ripped him to shreds. I liked him much better un-shredded. Unlike, say, my preference for lettuce or heavy metal guitar solos.
Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn’t hurt him. He’d been living with his stalker, for heaven’s sake.
They were back. The demons in all their glory. And they had a plan. I made plans sometimes, too, but they rarely involved world domination. Hot dogs on a grill, maybe. Tequila.
Try writing an entire story with only a thousand words at your disposal. It’s a terrific lesson in economy and precession.
It’s all fun and games until someone loses a testicle. – T-SHIRT.
Friends don’t let friends get killed by serial killers.
I was just passing by. Saw the commotion. Figured you were involved.
Paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all the paper. And the work.
If it weren’t for physics and law enforcement, I’d be unstoppable.
Since I had a soft spot for zombies and my curiosity was killing me, I opted for plan Z.
My plans often went awry. Much like my thoughts. Hold the phones. Maybe Saan had ADD, too. It would explain a lot.
Your existence gives me a headache. Go stand over there.
Pretending to drink coffee was similar to faking an orgasm.
I’m a virgin. But this is an old shirt. – T-SHIRT.
I’m currently unsupervised It frisks me out too but the possibilities are endless.
I intend to live forever. So far, so good. – T-SHIRT.
I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer. – T-SHIRT.