The Guy I've Got My Eye On

Thinking. A Process By Which I Use My Brain To Make A Rational Decision.

I’m Going To Grab A Cheeseburger,” I Told Patch. “want Anything?” “nothing On The Menu.” I Smiled. “why, Patch, Are You Flirting With Me?

I Don’t See Any Police Cars.” “they Probably Had To Park A Couple Blocks Over. Anyway, As I Was Saying, I Noticed Illegal Substances In The Hands Of A Few Guests.” “so?” She Snapped. “it’s A Party.” “alcohol Is Illegal Under The Age Of Twenty-one.” “great!” Marcie Shouted. “what Am I Going To Do?” She Paused, Then Raised Her Voice Again. “you Probably Called Them!” “who, Me?” Vee Said. “and Lose The Free Food? No Way.

It Makes No Difference To Me Whether I Shoot You Or You Fall To Your Death.” “it Does Make A Difference,” I Said, My Voice Small But Confident. “you And I Share The Same Blood.” I Lifted My Hand Precariously, Showing Him My Birthmark. “i’m Your Descendant. If I Sacrifice My Blood, Patch Will Become Human And You’ll Die. It’s Written In The Book Of Enoch.

Rollover Minutes Don’t Work With Curfews.