Together we made our way from the service entrances in back to the front, Jenks shedding clothes and handing them to me to stuff in my bag every few yards. It was terribly distracting, but I managed to avoid running into the Dumpsters and recycling bins.

I’d given up on the white picket fence after Kisten had died—finding out my kids would be demons was the nail in the coffin.

The mistakes don't matter. It's what you do when you mess up that does.

the mad have a grace all their own

that was humanity's problem right there. they are brain damaged from the early sun

Hey, ah, does anyone want a cookie or something? Oh yeah. A cookie. That would make everything better. Dunked in a shot of tequila , maybe? Or better yet, just the bottle? Yeah, that ought to do it.

Rachel, we've been over this. This is what I do," he said, crumbs of whiten cheese falling from the knife. "Find a way for your lofty, unrealistic ideals to deal with it.