What in the name of Zeus’s testicles?
Jesus may love you, but i’m his favourite.
I did that thing where you scratch your eyebrow and flip someone off at the same time. I’m good at multitasking like that.
Okay, I’ll strip. I’ll tap dance. I’ll sing ‘La Cucaracha’ in C minor.
I should’ve known the day was going to turn out bad when it started with my father trying to kill me.
I often question my sanity. Occasionally, it replies.
You take everything onto your shoulders like that guy who holds up the world, and you shouldn’t. You’re not nearly as muscular.
I know how you feel. I’ve been analyzed to death as well. Not, like, professionally, though I did date a psych major who said I had attention issues. Or at least that’s what I think he said. I wasn’t really paying attention. Anyway, where was I?
I knew dating the son of Satan would turn out badly.
It would be a miracle to solve this case. Luckily, I believed in miracles. No, wait, that was testicles. I believed in testicles.
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.
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.