One Person's Crazy Is Another Person's Sane,

Salt. Wound. Together At Last.

Top Trumps Appeared To Be A Game In Which You Got Cards, And The Cards Had A Picture (in This Case, Of A Horse), And Told You All Kinds Of Stats For That Horse, How Fast It Was, How Big It Was, Etc. Whoever Had The Better Horse Won Both The Cards. You Repeated This Until Someone Had All The Cards. So, Basically It Was Exactly Like High School, Except It Only Took Three Minutes. Which Was Really A Bit More Humane, If You Thought About It.

I Could Envision It All To Clearly: Stuart Or Debbie Finding The Dented Door Off Its Hinges, Lying In The Snow. "she Came In, Ravaged The Boy, Stole Plastic Bags, And Ripped Off The Door In Her Escape," The Police Would Say In The Apb. "probably Making Her Way To Bust Her Parents Out Of Jail.

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 Remember How, At First, I Had Felt The Tension In His Lips, As If He Was Trying To Make A Barrier Between Us - Then They Had Relaxed, Parted Slightly. And That's When I Had Known He Wanted To Kiss Me, Wanted To Give In. That Little Parting Of The Lips, The Little Sigh That Came Out... I Would Hear That Sigh Forever. That Little, Little Sound When The Whole World Seemed To Open Up.