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Ivy Oppel was one hard cousin to cry for. And a hard woman, too, but Ooops! Kapow! There's a hole in her head. Not hard enough, then.
I'm harder, thought Dumasha. A girl with a gun can have some fun in this world.
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Besides, that might have been the area of his birth, and if so, Jacob was now the director, priest, pallbearer, driver, and custodian of a hometown funeral
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"Poor Johnny, poor Johnny." He clucked his tongue.
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Our bodies bounced like bumper cars through the red-eyed rush.
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I like babies and little kids, more than some people but goddamn, children's laughter out of nowhere (in the night, when you're not expecting it) is creepy. I don't like slugs smeared like nightmare goo on my summer-bare feet, I could do without them in …
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It rained, but only later on. After everyone had gone and Sid and I were cleaning up. The weather was nice. Sari isn't the only one squinting. Everyone is. The photographer had us turn toward the sun. Looking into it. He was a dreadful idjit.
--Say ched
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"Check out these dudes,” he says. “They're all wearing kilts. Not that there's anything wrong with that, as long as they're wearing underwear.
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