If Kisses Were What You Were Looking

Though I Imagine In Your Case, Trying Not To Fall Just Made You Fall Harder.

Not Like This Vision Before Us, Who Was Shaking Water Out Of His Slightly Overlong Reddish-brown Hair As He Leaned Over To Lay Down His Board (revealing, As He Did So, The Fact That Beneath His Baggy Swim Trunks—so Weighted Down With Water That They Had Sunk Somewhat Dangerously Low On His Hips—lurked What Appeared To Be An Exceptionally Well-formed Gluteus Maximus)

Escape From The Realm Of The Dead Is Impossible. She's Not Dead. Not This Time.

Every Seven Miles, In America, There Is At Least One Mcdonald's. Not A Hospital, Mind You, Or A Police Station, But A Mcdonald's, Every Seven Miles. I Mean, That's Sort Of Scary, If You Think About It.

Writing Is A Workout, Just Like Going For A Run!