If the cake fits, eat it!

Sinead broke in. "The cops need to know what to do with Evan, Amy. What should I tell them?" "Shoot to kill?" Ian suggested.

We didn't stow away!" Dan protested. "You sunk our boat and pulled us out of the canal!" "Good point," Ian agreed. "Return them to the canal. Roughly, please.

Nellie Gomez awoke to a splitting headache. Worse, she was still hungry. "Where's my croissant?" she demanded of the person leaning over her. "Dear child," came a strangely familiar voice. "Don't 'dear child' me!" she snapped. The twenty-two-year-old punk rocker ran black-polished fingernails through black-and-orange-dyed hair, which did nothing to soothe the pounding behind her black-shaded eyes. "Give me my croissant or I'll–" It was then that she suddenly realized she was threatening the venerable Alistair Oh. "Alistair, what are you doing here?

Slime him, sis," Dan urged, "Make him a redcoat.

The thing about a cavity search is this: it has nothing to do with the dentist.

Who's that new guy with the snooty accent who came out and talked to the police?" Evan persisted. "He looks like some kind of male model." "That's just my cousin Ian," Amy explained. "Not much of a family resemblance," Evan noted sourly. "He's like a twenty-fifth cousin, ten times removed." Evan was not satisfied.