I had a soft spot for crazy people.

Sorry. i just can't seem to help myself. My brain is freaking out. Two predawn mornings in a row. It doesn't know what to think, how to act. I'll have a talk with it later. Perhaps get it some counseling.

This place is like crazy on crackers.

Pretending to drink coffee was similar to faking an orgasm.

Oh, my god!" I said, throwing my hands over my eyes and hurtling my body against the counter. "What?" "You're naked." "I'm not naked." "I'm blind." "You're not blind. I'm wearing pants." "Oh." That was embarrassing.

She shook her head then took off again, and I found myself struggling to keep up with her in my bunny slippers. With a sigh, I realized I was getting way too much exercise. I'd just have to counteract it later with cake.

The dead guy looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t move my legs.” I snorted. “You can’t move your arms either, or your feet or your freaking eyelids. You’re dead.