Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

We have souls. Sure we do. Otherwise we'd do bad things all the time. You know, like politicians.

He said my name the way diabetics talked about hot fudge sundaes.

I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.

Has anyone ever told you that you lack focus?

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

It's nice to see you again, Laura." "Thank you, Mrs. T-" "No, no, no. Please, my name is-" "Mud," I suggested. "Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short." ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy