Advanced Life-forms, My Seweet Patootie. Jerks. Both

I Looked Around. As Flock Leader, Everyone Was Expecting Me To Make A Decision. Jeb's Presence Here Would Bring Uncertainty, Chaos, Probably Danger. It Would Perk Up My Day.

I'm Big On Having A Blistering Pace. That's One Of The Hallmarks Of What I Do, And That's Not Easy. I Never Blow Up Cars And Things Like That, So It's Something Else That Keeps The Suspense Flowing. I Try Not To Write A Chapter That Isn't Going To Turn On The Movie Projector In Your Head.

In The Dictionary, Next To The Word Stress, There Is A Picture Of A Midsize Mutant Stuck Inside A Dog Crate, Wondering If Her Destiny Is To Be Killed Or To Save The World. Okay, Not Really. But There Should Be.

Huh - Why Is Max In The Kitchen?" Dr.martinez: "we're Cooking." Gazzy: "she's Just Keeping You Company, Right?" Dr.martinez: "no, She's Cooking." Nudge: "cooking...food?" Max: "yes, I'm Cooking Food, And It's Great, And You're Going To Eat It, You Twerps!

I'll Just Ask Now: What Is It About My Persona That Draws Every Insane, Power-hungry Nutcase To Me Like A Magnet?