Sitting In My Favorite Coffeehouse With A

You Are Working Up To Mr. Fantastic Fiction Levels Of Zombie Expert, Which Is Like Playing Guitar Hero On Some Level That Actually Melts The Guitar Controller, Burning Your Fingers With Searing Hot Plastic Till You Scream In Pain. Only With Words. And Zombies.

Hey,” The Cabbie Yelled. “how’s About A Tip?” “you Bet-ski,” Evie Said, Heading Toward The Old Victorian Mansion, Her Long Silk Scarf Trailing Behind Her. “don’t Kiss Strange Men In Penn Station.

I've Heard It Said That God Is In The Details. It's The Same With The Truth. Leave Out The Details, The Crucial Heart, And You Can Damn Someone With The Bare Bones Of It.

It Keeps Her Purity Vacum-sealed To Preserve Its Freshness For Her Future Husband.

You Are Unique, And This Is A Beautiful, Beautiful Thing, Grasshopper.