In a perfect world, Joshua‟s vertically gifted murderer would‟ve had himself a monologue before rampaging, during which he loudly and clearly would‟ve announced his full name, occupation, religious preference, preferably with his god‟s country and time period of origin, his goals, dreams, and aspirations, and the location of his lair. But nobody had ever accused post-Shift Atlanta of being perfect.

Kid 1: *examining my gorgeous strawberry and blueberry pies*: Wow, Mom, your pies don’t look awful this time. Me (Ilona): ... ~A little later~ Kid 2: *wandering into the kitchen* Kid 1: Hey, you’ve got to see these pies. *opening the stove* Kid 2: Wow. They are not ugly this time. Kid 1: I know, right?

Andrea raised her hand. “This is the hand that slapped Aunt B.” “Maybe you should have it gold-plated.” “Here, you can touch it, since you’re my best friend.

You should name him Fezzik." "Inconceivable.

If you come back to me, I'll never leave you", I whispered into the furry ear. "I'll make you all the pies you could ever eat.

What's with the cute shoelace on your head?" "What this?" He flicked the end of the cord with his finger. "Yeah. Rambo called, he wants his bandana back.

I took the jacket off, changed my T-shirt for a dark gray tank top, slipped on the tangle of the back sheath, and put the jacket on again. Thugs are us. Great. Just add a super-tight ponytail and loads of mascara, and I’d be ripe to play a supervillain’s evil mistress. Ve haf vays of making you gif us your DNA sample.