Excuse Me? I'm Alive Too.

Am I Tough? Am I Strong? Am I Hard-core? Absolutely. Did I Whimper With Pathetic Delight When I Sank My Teeth Into My Hot Fried-chicken Sandwich? You Betcha.

Man, You Weigh A Freaking Ton," He Told Me. "what've You Been Eating, Rocks?" "why, Is Your Head Missing Some?" I Croaked. His Mouth Almost Quirked In A Smile, And That's When I Knew How Upset He'd Been

Noooo!" On The Screen, A Woman's Eyes Bugged Almost Out Of Her Head, And I Tried Not To Scream. Tried Not To Scream In Exasperation, I Mean. The Serial Killer Was Right In Front Of Her, Wide Open! Clearly, Instead Of Weeping Like A Moron, She Could Be Lunging Forward And Administering A Swift Uppercut To The Chin. Then This Entire Pointless Ordeal Would Be Over With, And I Could Go Home.

Besides My Great Fashion Sense? I Play A Mean Harmonica.

He Gives My Hand A Tight Squeeze, But That Desperation, That Urgency Between Us Is Gone. No Insecurities. Max And Fang. Fang And Max. No Longer A Question. We Just Are.