Feeling - what authentic human fun!

I'm quite sure more people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake all of it." --Dexter

I often find myself in situations where it seems to me like everyone else has read the instruction book

It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul. That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds.

I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.

It was always hard work to push through a crowed of reporters with the scent of blood in their nostrils. You might not think so, since on camera they appear to be brain-damaged wimps with severe eating disorders. But put them at a police barricade and a miraculous thing happens...The strength comes from some mysterious place-and somehow, when there is gore on the ground, these anorexic creatures can push their way through anything. Without mussing their hair, too.

Rectory always sounded to me like a place where you would find a proctologist.