My Final Word: Don't Follow Your Dreams

We're Going To Die," Keith Said, The Moment He Was Gone. "this Man Is A Serial Killer. We're Going To Die, And He's Going To Bury Us In His Garden And Build A Shed On Us.

I Read Two Mysteries A Day When I Was A Kid. All Of Agatha Christie, All Of 'sherlock Holmes.' I've Seen Every Single British Detective Show Ever Made.

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!

And What Else Is She?" Jerome Asked. Jazza Didn't Offer Any Reply So I Chimed In With, "a Bitchweasel?" "a Bitchweasel!" Jazza's Face Lit Up. "she's A Bitchweasel! I Love My New Roommate.

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.