So I Took Her Hand, And I

Are You Crazy?" "probably

He Pinched The Name Tag And Ran His Fingers Under The Letters. "can You Read This, Mate? It Says C-h-a-r-o-n. Say It With Me: Care-on." "charon." "amazing! Now: Mr. Charon." "mr. Charon." "well Done.

Even His Hair Was Bigger—a Massive Globe Of Blue-black Frizz So Thick That His Lobster-claw Horns Appeared To Be Drowning As They Tried To Swim Their Way To The Surface. “is That Why They Named You Aphros?” Leo Asked As They Glided Down The Path From The Cave. “because Of The Afro?” Aphros Scowled. “what Do You Mean?” “nothing,” Leo Said Quickly.

If You've Seen A Crab's Mouth, All Foamy And Gross With Whiskers And Snapping Bits, You Can Imagine This One Didn't Look Any Better Blown Up To Billboard Size.

A Surgeon Would Never Hesitate To Amputate A Rotting Hand, No Matter How Faithfully It Had Served Its Owner In The Past.