She Pulled Down The Blanket And Aimed

Christmas Crept Into Pine Cove Like A Creeping Christmas Thing: Dragging Garland, Ribbon, And Sleigh Bells, Oozing Eggnog, Reeking Of Pine, And Threatening Festive Doom Like A Cold Sore Under The Mistletoe.

Foul And Magical Fumes Bubbled Out Of The Kettle, Like The Flatulence Of A Dragon On A Demon-only Diet.

Angels Are Just Pretty Insects.

Mr. Fresh Looked Up. "the Book Says If We Don't Do Our Jobs Everything Could Go Dark, Become Like The Underworld. I Don't Know What The Underworld Is Like, Mr. Asher, But I've Caught Some Of The Road Show From There A Couple Of Times, And I'm Not Interested In Finding Out. How 'bout You?" "maybe It's Oakland," Charlie Said. "what's Oakland?" "the Underworld." "oakland Is Not The Underworld!" "the Tenderloin?" Charlie Suggested.

Most Of Us Don't Live Our Lives With One, Integrated Self That Meets The World, We're A Whole Bunch Of Selves.