Sometimes A Happy Delusion Is Better Than

On The Other Hand, Even A Big, '80s Love Van Was Less Noticeable Than Six Flying Kids And Their Talking Dog. So There You Go.

Listen, Street Punk. You're A Guy, And You're A Couple Inches Taller, And Maybe Forty Pounds Heavier, And Ooh, You're In A Gang. But I've Survived Ten Years Of Catholic School, And I Will Cut You Off At Your Knees Without A Blink. Do You Understand?

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Well, It's Like I Have A Gps Inside Me," I Told Them. "one Of The Talking Ones. I Tell It Where I Want To Go, And It Tells Me, Go Twenty Miles, Turn Left, Take Exit Ninety-fourm And So One. It Can Be Pretty Bossy, Frankly. Their Eyes Widened. "really?" Said One. No You Idiot," I Said In Disgust. "i Don't Know How It Works. I Just Know It Has An Unfailing Ability To Point Me In The Opposite Direction Of A Bunch Of Boneheads.

Later," Fang Said To Ella And Dr. Martinez In That Gushy, Hyperemotional, Overdramatic Way He Has.