I'm A Monster, Not A Moron.

The World Going Insane And Evil Letting Slip The Birds Of War Is No Excuse For Sloppy Vocabulary.

The Fomorians Skittered Backward, Away From Me, Looking Justifiably Confused. I Mean, Really, How Many Human Women Actually Run To Them? And I Was A Human Woman Covered In Swamp Yuck, With Wild Red Hair Sticking Out In Matted Hunks And Arms Flailing Like A Demented Bride Of Frankenstein. I'd Run From Me.

Jack Came Whirling In Like A Little Gay Tornado With Duchess Following Him.

If I Died, Would It Get Me Out Of My Geometry Test Tomorrow? One Could Only Hope.

It Was Like I Was Inside A Fishbowl In The Middle Of A Typhoon, And Everyone Else Was On The Outside Cluelessly Enjoying Lovely Weather.