No Sausage?" He Asked. Apparently My Pork

And What Else Is She?" Jerome Asked. Jazza Didn't Offer Any Reply So I Chimed In With, "a Bitchweasel?" "a Bitchweasel!" Jazza's Face Lit Up. "she's A Bitchweasel! I Love My New Roommate.

We're Going To Die," Keith Said, The Moment He Was Gone. "this Man Is A Serial Killer. We're Going To Die, And He's Going To Bury Us In His Garden And Build A Shed On Us.

My Final Word: Don't Follow Your Dreams . . . Chase Them. With A Stick, Or A Shovel, Or Whatever You Have Handy. Get That [bleep]ing Dream!

She's Gone. Been Gone For Ages. They Split Up Right After You Left. That's Why The Grass Out Front Started Growing Again." "he's Got A New Girlfriend?" She Said Quietly. "thank God. You Must Be Happy." "yeah. He Does. It's A Relief. She's A Lot Nicer. But Then, Your Average Angry Snake Is Nicer Than Fiona. I'm Sure She's Happier Wherever She Is Now, Burning Orphans Or Whatever She Does With Her Time.

It Was Almost Funny. Life Seemed Downright Accidental In Its Brevity, And Death A Punch Line To A Lousy Joke.