Have You Been Sniffing Fairy Farts?

You Look Like The Vamp Who Bled The Cat.

Ford Put A Hand To His Head. “back Up. Back Up!” He Cried. “you’re Too Close.” Heart Pounding, I Looked At The Eight Feet Between Us And Pressed Into The Fridge. “i Think He Meant For The Ghost To Back Up,” Jenks Said Dryly.

This Is About Ku’sox, Isn’t It,” I Said, More Of A Statement Than A Question. He Made A Sighing Groan, And I Knew It Was. “then You’ve Met,” He Said, His Thoughts Clearly On The Day-walking Demon. “funny, You Don’t Look Dead.” His Hand Touched My Chin, Shifting It So He Could See Where I’d Been Pixed, The Blisters Itchy And Red. “i’m Surprised You Survived The Little Designer Dump. I Nearly Didn’t.

People Ask Me What I Do In My Spare Time, And I Look At Them Blankly, Truly Believing That I Don't Even Have Spare Time, And If I Did, I'd Probably Use It For Something Mundane, Like Chipping Away At The Mound Of Laundry Rising To Dangerous Proportions In The Back Room.

I Felt Sick. Buying Kisten’s And My Safety From Piscary Was So Wrong. But It Was Either That Or Deal With A Demon, And I’d Rather Keep My Soul Clean And Let My Morals Get Dingy.