I Think I’ve Got Something Else To

No One Was Normal, Not Really.

Kill Me, Doug. Just Kill Me Now. Put Me Out Of My Misery.” “christ, Kincaid, What Did You Say To Him?” Murmured Doug. “well,” I Told Doug, “i Ripped On His Fans And On How Long It Takes For His Books To Come Out.” Doug Stared At Me, His Expectations Exceeded. “then I Said—not Knowing Who He Was—that I’d Be Seth Mortensen’s Love Slave In Exchange For Advanced Copies Of His Books.

Because I’ve Got A Lot More Terms Of Endearment To Use. Honey Pie. Sugarplum. Bread Pudding," “why Are They All High-calorie Foods?

This Is Insane," I Said Blankly. "i'm The Instrument Of An All-powerful Primordial Deity's Wave Of Chaos And Destruction." "that's Kind Of Extreme" Said Dante Jovially. "it's Not Like You Work For Google Or Anything.

Seth Laughed When He Saw Me. “hey,” I Said, Poking Him With My Foot, “be Nice.” “i Think This Is The First Time I’ve Ever Seen You Look Anything Less Than…” He Paused, Playing With Word Choice. “well-planned.” “why, You Silver-tongued Romantic Devil. That Is The Look I Usually Go For. Other Women Go For Sexy Or Chic Or Beautiful. But Me? Well-planned All The Way.” “you Know What I Mean. Besides, Unplanned Isn’t A Bad Look For You. Not Bad At All.” His Voice Sounded Deliciously Low And Dangerous, And Something Ignited Between Us As We Held Each Other’s Eyes.