It’s all fun and games until someone loses a testicle. —T-SHIRT

I had a horrible feeling my leg was broken. If it wasn’t, it had a lot of explaining to do.

What's your specialty? Oh, you know. Madness. Mayhem. Debauchery. And even with all that going for me, I can still make a mean mojito.

My real mom died when I was born—hemorrhaged to death while giving birth to me, which has never been one of my favorite memories—and Dad married Denise before I’d turned a year. Without even asking my opinion on the matter. Denise and I never really clicked.

That you honestly believe I am capable of hurting innocent people for no reason.” “You’re not?” I asked, hope softening my voice. “Oh, no, I’m more than capable. I just didn’t realize you knew that.

Oh, and she told me that men want only one thing. And on that note, I must give praise and thanks to the powers that be. I don't want much else from them either.

I often question my sanity. Occasionally, it replies.