I do so like all-encompassing words. Verb, adjective, noun. Yes, you are shitted.

A clipboard and a hard hat could get you just about anywhere.

Growing up is hard, love. Otherwise everyone would do it.

Sure, he had a wife and fifty-four kids, but he looked like a college freshman. A yummy college freshman majoring in Oh-my-god-I-gotta-get-me-some-of-that.

Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.

Behind the fury, he was tired. He was tired of being hauled around and shoved into a little room. He was tired of trying for me and failing. And to have Minias know it, to be carted off under his leash…It was almost insulting. Maybe, if I gave Al a night of peace to lick his wounds and his pride, he would grant that same courtesy to me?

I staggered backward-her one hand gripping my shoulder, the other still holding my wrists behind her-and she followed until my back hit the wall.