That's Smart. Once Sonya's Able To Talk,

He Used To Talk To Me About Russia All The Time And Had Sworn Up And Down That I'd Love It Here. "to You, It'd Be Like A Fairy Tale," He'd Told Me. "sorry, Comrade. Borg And Out-of-date Music Aren't Part Of Any Happy Ending I've Ever Imagined." "borscht, Not Borg. And I've Seen Your Appetite. If You Were Hungry Enough, You'd Eat It." "so Starvation's Necessary For This Fairy Tale To Work Out?

He Stepped Back And Threw His Arms Out. "i'm Always Crazy Around You Rose. Here, I'm Going To Write An Impromptu Poem For You." He Tipped His Head Back And Shouted To The Sky: "rose Is In Red But Never In Blue Sharp As A Thorn Fights Like One Too.

God,” I Moaned. “do They Use That Stuff As Rocket Fuel?” “no One Made You Keep Drinking It.” “hey, Don’t Get Preachy. Besides, I Had To Be Polite.” “sure,” She Said.

You Made Your Own Jean Shorts...with A Butter Knife?

Oh... Adrian, I've Got One More Favor To Ask You. A Big One." "fondue?" He Asked Hopefully.