You'd tell the world what your best friend wore to sleep if you thought it made a good enough story.

You'd tell the world what your best friend wore to sleep if you thought it made a good enough story.

Take a note: it usually works better if you wait until I do something stupid before getting mad at me.

See you tomorrow,” he said, instead. “All right.” Then, impulsively, I asked, “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?” “Sure,” he said with a smile, and started off as if he had somewhere to be. I could have bitten off my tongue because I pushed him into a lie. Once he started lying to me, it would be harder to get him to trust me with the truth. I don’t know why it works that way, but it does—at least in my experience.

I could hear him laughing. Son of a bit*h. I would kill him. I didn't care if he was coyote or the son of Satan.He was a dead man walking.

He stopped what he was doing and pulled out his magic phone. Okay, the phone wasn't magic, but it does things my computer struggles with.

Tis the gift to be gentle, ’tis the gift to be fair, ’Tis the gift to wake and breathe the morning air, To walk every day in the path that we choose, Is the gift that we pray we will never never lose.