Ask me. I'm a cow expert.

You don't get Billie Joe Armstrong's autograph on your forehead without following your instincts.

Art theft gave a guy an appetite.

Ian sighed wanly. "I once had the means to be gaga over art–before I found myself in a country where the standard of beauty is toaster waffles shaped like cartoon characters.

Amy was profoundly shocked. "A little over an hour ago, our bus was attacked by three men in ski masks. They definitely knew me, and probably Dan, too. We fought them off, but it could've gone either way." "Like if they'd used a cookie truck instead of a gas tanker," Dan added. "Nobody's scared of Oreos.

Dan moved forward and replaced Jonah at the helm. "I've got a plan!" "That's my man!" The famous grin disappeared as Jonah took in the grim determination in Dan's features. His expression was as flat and expressionless as a naked skull. Dan steered the hurtling boat directly toward the rocky shore. "Amy, hang onto that painting!" "That's not a plan!" Jonah shouted. "That's suicide!

Dan instantly recognized the angry scratch that stretched from the corner of Ian's eye all the way along the olive skin to his chin. "Have you been messing with Saladin?" "No. Saladin has been messing with me," Ian shot back. "He isn't big on Lucians," Dan explained. "Animals are really good judges of character.