Evie Wanted To Cry. From Fear. From

The Best Day Of My Life Happened When I Was Five And Almost Died At Disney World. I'm Sixteen Now, So You Can Imagine That's Left Me With Quite A Few Days Of Major Suckage.

Agent Jones Switched To The Big Screen And A Grainy Video Of Momo Sitting At His Enormous Desk, A Swivel-hipped Elvis Clock Ticking Behind His Bewigged Head. 'death To The Capitalist Pigs! Death To Your Cinnamon Bun-smelling Malls! Death To Your Power Walking And Automatic Car Windows And I'm With Stupid T-shirts! The Republic Of Chacha Will Never Bend To Your Side-of-fries -drive -through-please-oh-would-you-like-ketchup-with-that Corruption! Momo B. Chacha Defies You And All You Stand For, And One Day, You Will Crumble Into The Sea And We Will Pick Up The Pieces And Make Them Into Sand Art.

I Changed My Mind. I Don’t Want To Be An Inveshtigative Journalist Anymore. I Want To Be A Professional Rum Drinker.” “there Are People Who Do That,” Duff Said. He’d Barely Sipped His Rum. “really? What Do You Call Them?” “alcoholics.

It's So Laughable That It's Somewhere Beyond Comedy And Right Into Tragedy Again.

I Told Myself It Was The Snow—she Couldn’t Possibly Get To Philadelphia On The Roads. I Told Myself A Hundred Lies. Children Do That. It’s Amazing The Sorts Of Things You’ll Make Yourself Believe.