He went through the cupboards, found the olive oil, and started upstairs again. He glanced down at the green and gold label and had to bite back a laugh at the words Extra Virgin. That about summed it up.

How did people get over this? They obviously did. Every day someone fell in love with the wrong person and had to pack up all their fragile, misguided hopes and unwanted affection, and move on to the next picnic table.

Anyone who wasn't half-stoned on pain meds would have instantly realized what a really bad idea this plan was, but since that didn't include me, I didn't worry about it.

You got a little bit of an attitude, Mr. English, if you don't mind my saying so. I don't mind.

Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.

I didn't approve of murder on general principles. Not even of people who seemed to go around begging for it.

Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, "He writes murder mysteries.