This is so cool," I said loudly as Dad walked away. "Have you met the tattoo artist? Is he hot?" "He's a she," Mom said. "Is she hot? Cause I'm still young, you know. My sexual identity isnt fully formed." "Your father can't hear you anymore, Maya." Mom sighed.

He was tall and scrawny with a face that could be mistaken with Keith Richards on a bad day.

Yes," I said "You were saved by a girl. Horrible, isn't it?" He slid out and looked down at my bare legs. "Not just a girl, but a half-naked one. Now that's hot. If I'm still unconscious, don't wake me, okay?

I'd been staring at the search term for at least five minutes. One word. Necromancer.

Who cared whether you could change motor oil when you could snap a rottweiler’s neck in 2.8 seconds? Now there was a practical skill.

So do all animals react that way to you? I know you said rats steer clear." "Most do. They see a human, but they smell someting else. It confuses them. Canines are the worst, though." He paused. "No, cats are the worst. I really don't like cats." I laughed.

Why is it that every time a girl says a guy is bothering her, it's fluffed off with oh, he just likes you, as if that makes it okay?