We sit and listen and are enthralled anew, for good stories, it seems, never lose their magic.

You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.

...because really, sometimes the irony gods just get drunk.

She is the elephant’s eyebrows,” Evie whispered appreciatively. “Those jewels! How her neck must ache.” “That’s why Bayer makes aspirin,” Mabel whispered back, and Evie smiled, knowing that even a socialist wasn’t immune to the dazzle of a movie star.

Prohibition? I drink to its health whenever I can.

On TV, talking heads wrung their hands over a lack of traditional feminine values and wondered if girls’ sports were to blame. Then they cut to a commercial featuring a sexy college coed vacuuming her dorm room in her underwear.

Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.