Wish All My Corpses Would Do That.

I Envied It; Not The Idea Of Having So Much Money That You Could Throw It Away, But The Thought Of Growing Up In A World Where Someone Cared So Much About Your Happiness And So Little About What You Accomplished In Life.

He Was Tall And Scrawny With A Face That Could Be Mistaken With Keith Richards On A Bad Day.

Derek Lunged. He Hit Me In The Shoulder And Knocked Me To The Floor, Landing On Top Of Me. His Body Jerked, Like He'd Been Hit With The Spell, And I Let Out A Yelp, Struggling To Get Up, But He Held Me Down, Whispering "i'm Okay, It's Okay" Until The Words Penetrated.

Go Out And Ask Her Into The Alley.” Clay Looked At Jeremy As If He’d Just Been Told To Dance The Rumba On A Public Thoroughfare. I Bit Back A Laugh. “just Walk Over To Her And Point At The Alley. Maybe Say…i Don’t Know…something Like ‘fifty Bucks.’ ” I Looked At Jeremy. “does That Sound Right? Fifty?” His Brows Shot Up. “why Are You Asking Me?” “i Wasn’t—i Just Meant, As A General…” I Threw Up My Hands. “how Am I Supposed To Know How Much A Hooker Costs?

I Could Shave My Head And Wear A Sackcloth And Still Get A Whole Lot Of Ghostly Wrong Numbers. Makes Me Wonder If There’s Some Kind Of Ghost-necro Porn Industry Down There. ~jaime Vegas