I Like You Because You Were Mad.

It Makes You Very Cool," He Said, Taking Big, Jumping Steps To Get In Front Of Me. "cnn Would Interview You, For Sure. Daughter Of Flobie! But Don't Worry. I'll Keep Them Back!

I Envisioned Huge Piles Of The Elf Hotel Flying Off The Belt, Taking Down Everybody In Sight. I Had Seen Pictures Of That Elf Hotel - It Had Sharp Candy-cane Spires That Could Easily Impale Someone. If Anyone Was Ever Going To Be Killed By An Elf Hotel, It Would Be My Parents.

I Have No Phobias. Phobias Are Irrational. My Fears Are Rational And Carefully Cultivated, Like Roses.

Oh, The Ongoing Love Affair Between Hair And Mouths. Hair Always Goes For The Mouth. The Mouth Opens, And Hair Says, "i'm Going In! I'm Going In!" Like A Manic Cave Diver.

Tired, But Not The Kind Of Tired That Sleep Fixes.