I Exchanged My Flannel Shirt For A

Lula's Borderline Too Much Of A Good Thing In Lots Of Ways. It Isn't Exactly That Lula Is Fat; It's More That She's Too Short For Her Weight And Her Clothes Are Too Small For The Volume Of Flesh She Carries.

I Got Out Of The Elevator And Confronted Mr. Wexler. “killing Is Wrong.” “we Kill Chickens,” Mr. Wexler Said. “we Kill Cows. We Kill Trees. So Big Deal, We Kill Some Drug Dealers.” It Was Hard To Argue With That Kind Of Logic Because I Like Cows And Chickens And Trees Much Better Than Drug Dealers.

I Know What You're Thinking," Grandma Said Into The Silence. "do I Have Anymore Bullets In This Here Gun? Well, With All The Confusion, What With Being Locked Up In A Refrigerator, I Plumb Forgot What Was In Here To Start With. But Being That This Is A 45 Magnum, The Most Powerful Handgun In Existence, And It Could Blow Your Head Clean Off, You Just Got To Ask Yourself One Question. Do You Feel Lucky Today? Well, Do You, Punk?" Christ," Spiro Whispered. "she Thinks She's F**king Clint Eastwood.

Has It Ever Occurred To You That You Might Be Delusional?' That's What The Psychiatrist Said, But I Think He's Wrong. There's An Evil Flying Pizza Out There, And It's Got Brenda's Name On It.

Bob Had A Dog Buscuit Stuck To His Head. "how Does He Always Get Food Stuck To Him?" I Asked Morelli. "i Don't Know," Morelli Said. "it's A Bob Mystery. I Think Stuff Falls Out Of His Mouth And He Rolls In It. I'm Not Sure." -morelli And Stephanie