I'm Not A Natural Joiner.

Howard And Shirley Were Clothed, Always, In An Invisible Layer Of Decorum That They Never Laid Aside.

From This Point Forth, We Shall Be Leaving The Firm Foundation Of Fact And Journeying Together Through The Murky Marshes Of Memory Into Thickets Of Wildest Guesswork.

Some Of Her Self-hatred Had Oozed Out With The Blood.

I Hope There's Pudding!

What Would Come, Would Come...and You Would Have To Meet It, When It Did.