He smiles a lot. But I think there might be worms inside him making him smile.

Your Plan and the stuff that comes out of my asshole bear a suspicious resemblance to each other.

Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists.

He removed his unvaluable valuables and dumped his shirt, pants, and skivvies into a letter slot.

I simply think that there are things in this world that are relics. We have unsettling remnants of Atlantis. They have found things off Bermuda, great walls and things of that sort. This seems to indicate that there were races and cultures that went before us. And to me, that's an unsettling idea.

So what, ghosts can't hurt you. That's what I thought then.

Has it ever occurred to you that parents are nothing but overgrown kids until their children drag them into adulthood? Usually kicking and screaming?