No matter how nice the company one might be with, however, it is never pleasant to have a rifle pointed at one's back.

Did you see him? I know the photo was grainy, but he looks like one of those death metal goth heads, or whatever they’re called. All dressed in black with long hair I took umbrage at my mother describing my boyfriend this way. John was the Lord of the Underworld. How else was he supposed to dress?

My shoulders sagged. Really, is it too much to ask that I be able to come home from a long day of work and relax? Oh, no. I have to come home and read a bunch of letters written to the love of my life by his fiancée, who, if I am correct, had him killed a hundred and fifty years ago. Then, as if that is not bad enough, he wants me to explain the Vietnam War.

Being brave is when you have to do something because you know it is right, but at the same time, you are afraid to do it, because it might hurt or whatever. But you do it anyway.

I don't want water!" Sarah cries, her face buried against my chest. I can't see what's going on in the rest of the lobby beacuse Sarah's hair is flying up in my face, blocking my view. I want justice!" she wails. Well, we'll get you some of that too." Magda has appeared from out of nowhere. "Maybe there's some in the freezer.

Not like this vision before us, who was shaking water out of his slightly overlong reddish-brown hair as he leaned over to lay down his board (revealing, as he did so, the fact that beneath his baggy swim trunks—so weighted down with water that they had sunk somewhat dangerously low on his hips—lurked what appeared to be an exceptionally well-formed gluteus maximus)

In a way, I was incredibly proud of her (not that I had any intention of letting it show while I was beating the crap out of her).