It Was Time To Pull My Moral

"come On," I Said, Taking His Hand. Clutching The Afghan With The Other Hand, He Trailed Down The Hall After Me, A Snow White Giant In Tiny Red Underwear.

Then Was Ashamed Of Myself. I Should Be Happy For What I'd Been Given. I Hoped God Hadn't Noticed My Lapse In Appreciation.

Self-pity Is Like Chocolate; As You Get Older, You Can Only Afford A Little Bit.

Leave The Girl Alone, Clete, And Let's Get Back On The Road," The Tall Driver Said, And His Voice Had That "i'm Done With You" Edge To It. "i Don't Know Who This Guy Is, But I Don't Think He Changes Into A Nutria.

People Are Really Interested In The Concept Of Eternal Youth In This Plastic-surgery Culture.