I'm in a Road Runner cartoon, Sinclair. And I'm the coyote.

I trudged around on the muddy river bottom for half an hour, patiently waiting to drown, before giving up and slogging my way back to shore.

I've been stabbed before. Barely a week ago, in fact. AND I've been audited, AND I come from a broken home. In short - no offense, shorty - you don't scare me.

All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck.

You don't scare me, Cadence Jones. I've lived with crazy, I've ridden with crazy, I've vacationed with crazy, I've visited crazy in various hospitals, I've sat in on therapy sessions with crazy. Frankly, I think women who don't have major emotional disorders are really very dull.

Why is it suddenly uncool to spell? That's all I want to know.

He snarled at me. "This isn't over yet, Betsy." "Excellent," I said. "I would also have accepted 'You haven't seen the last of me' and 'You'll regret this'.