If anyone's under a spell, Justina, it's me. Your daughter put one on me five years ago, and I haven't broken free of it yet. Oh, and you'll be delighted to know, we've decided to resume our relationship. Don't bother with congratulations—trust me, your expression is congratulations enough.

"If you’d refrain from slamming my face any more into this dirty rock floor, I’ll do whatever you like," was his even reply. "Fancy letting my head go?" "Sure," I said with an unpleasant snicker, not relinquishing an ounce of pressure. "How about I let you floss with my jugular as well? I don’t think so."

Slash was about my height, and he used the alignment of our bodies to his greatest advantage. I let it go on for a few minutes. Right up until he unzipped his leather pants and pulled out Mr. One Eye.

My father was English. He date-raped my mother so she's hated English men ever since. You know my boyfriend's English, and I'm, uh, I'm half-English, which she's never been real happy about. If she finds out I'm dating someone English, she'll ah, think I' turning my back on her and becoming a foreigner.' Cathy, that's the stupidest reason I've ever heard.

He was impolite while making a point? This is Vlad the Impaler. His points usually come at the end of a long pole.

But-but…” Timmie’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Why did you tell her I’m your boyfriend? Why doesn’t she know about your real one?” That was a good question. I cast around for an answer. Any answer. “He’s English!” I settled on desperately. “And Mom…Mom hates foreigners!

Juan gave Bones the most admiring look he’d bestowed on him yet. “You talked her into going without panties all these years? Madre de Dios, now that’s impressive. I could learn a great deal from you, amigo.