There are a lot of truths in this world. When it rains it pours. It's always darkest before the dawn. He who smelt it dealt it.

Lies were like acid, corrosive: They could dissolve trust in a heartbeat.

All I cared was that she had never lied. She was honest in a world just the opposite, and a cool oasis in my life. She was who she said she was, and everything Sophia, my mother, the pathologically manipulative liar, had never been.

At least that's what his note said, along with a scathing reminder that dishes didn't wash themselves and the fungus in the bathroom was one day away from evolving into sentient life. I folded the note into an airplane and sailed it across the room. It ended up perched jauntily on top of the ancient television. It looked good there and I left it as a tribute to freedom-loving fungi everywhere.

Snap judgments? I'd gotten over those about the time I was toilet trained. Swore off diapers and faith in the human experience all in one week.

We all have our security blankets in this world. Some are just sharper than others.

Look at the ex-demon with his big boy pants on now.