A Guy Who Hates His Job Isn't

Listen Up,” I Said Urgently. “it’s Time To Round Up Your Gear. I’m Gonna Check In With Patrick, And Then We’re Getting The Flock Out Of Here.” Ha-ha.

Please, I Begged Silently, Please Do Not Let My Last Moments On Earth Be Me Crammed Into A Tiny Boat In The Dark, Surrounded By Mechanical Singing Pirates.

And Flock Rule Number Two Is, Don't Argue With Max Or You'll Live To Regret It." I Spun And Stomped Out To The Clearing, Turning Back For One Last Jab At Dylan. "and By The Way, You Clearly Don't Know Me Better Than Fang Does. Do You See Fang Arguing With Me? No, You Do Not." Fang Rolled His Eyes.

The House Was On Fire," I Greeted Them Tersely. "in Case You're Interested." They Both Glanced Up Overhead As If To Make Sure The House Was Still Standing. Fang Sniffed, Smelling The Smoke. It's Out, Right?" He Said

Please, Sit Down," Sharon Said With Another Hair Toss. I Made A Mental Note To Practice Doing That In A Mirror The Next Time I Saw One. It Seemed A Useful Skill, Right Up There With Roundhouse Kicks.