This is the fast lane, folks...and some of us like it here.

Women are terrified of being raped, but somewhere in the back of the womb there is one rebellious nerve end that tingles with curiosity whenever the word is mentioned.

I'll call New York for some cash.

It never got weird enough for me.

Too weird to live, and too rare to die.

There is probably some long-standing "rule" among writers, journalists, and other word-mongers that says: "When you start stealing from your own work you're in bad trouble." And it may be true.

We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold.