The vampire stared at me, his mouth slack as Ghastek assessed his options. I took a couple of forms from my desk, put them into the vamp's mouth, and pulled them up by their edges. "What are you doing?" Ghastek asked. "My hole puncher broke." "You have no respect for the undead.

I raged across the field, killing all before me. They ran when they saw me coming, and I chased them down, and killed them before they could take someone else's friend away from them.

I tried to picture a female version of Jim and got Jim in a dress instead. The image was disturbing.

Cute. I think I would prefer to be stabbed in the eye rather than be called cute.

It became known that I had a rather fertile imagination, when it came to private activities." She stared. "What sort of private activities?" This time he did smile, and it turned his face wicked. "Disrobe, and I'll be happy to demonstrate.

We need a barn or one of those storage areas for the Broken vehicles." "A garage?" He gave her a short nod. "A private, relatively remote location, with thick walls to dampen the sound and preferably a sturdy door I could bolt from the inside, keeping your grandmother, your brothers, and all other painfully annoying spectators out..." Rose began to laugh. A make-out bunker... "I'm glad you find our dilemma hilarious.

The idiot had shot their own dog. That’s what happened when the destructive potential of a man’s weapons exceeded his intelligence.