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.

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.

Since killing people is illegal, can I have a Taser just for shits and giggles? -Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

Oh, my god!” I said to Reyes, my eyes radiating accusations at him. “She took your picture? Just what kind of game are you playing? You’re under arrest, mister.” His mouth tilted and a dimple emerged on one cheek as I took his wrist and threw him against a wall. Or, well, urged him toward it. I held him against the cool wood with one hand and frisked him with the other.

A Nuns Life: Chastity, poverty, and obedience. Wait, chastity?" BUMPER STICKER

Apparently, this really was Kill Charley Davidson Week. Or at least Horribly Maim Her.... It would probably never get government recognition, though, destined to be underappreciated like Halloween or Thesaurus Day.

Is it just me or does the fact that you live in the same building you were abducted into seem a bit morbid?" "Pffft. It’s just you," I said, discounting the entire bizarre ghoulish thing.