From WIP:
Most of the time my capacity for violence scares me. .... My anger helped me hold myself together. It wouldn't fix anything but it would mean whoever had done this would never get to hurt anyone like that again.
I could live with that.
Whoever had done this wouldn't.
Sometimes being a monster is a very simple thing.
Big Brother. Only done with norse gods. 10 gods, one house.
Tonight is the night, he decided, that I am going to make a twinkie salad.
And somewhere a TV chef wept without knowing why.
"We all pretend to be things we're not, dear. We pretended to be your parents for years. I think you'll agree your mother and I did a good job," Dad said before handing me a form to grade them with.
The sun would be too warm a death
The water colder than a tomb
All I desire for a final breath
A death how like a womb.
Quantum Policing: cases you cannot solve because you can either know what all the clues are or where they are, but not both.
"Last night?" I prodded her.
"You seemed busy so I kept busy. There was a ghost causing trouble at the high school. I got rid of it," she said as though a ghost performing an exorcism on another ghost wasn't odd at all.
Ah, spring! The season when love is in the air and lawyers prepare their restraining orders with care.
The immortals revealed their age when they tried to pay for groceries with a cheque.
The God Computer continued to crash until they realized it could exist, but only by equating 'god' with 'error'.
What can truth teach if not that no truth is whole?
Hello facebook!
<insert a picture of a child here. Preferably a sad orphan.>
A retired Nigerian general has agreed to deposit $1 million in my bank account if this post gets 1 million likes! I plan to use it to for <insert a cause you like here>
<Passive-aggressive coda on how all my REAL friends will change their status to help me, as if I was a chain-letter bully>
"We can't have a new President," the writer explained. "I don't think it would be good for my career if my muse left office."
Being the pope would be hard. Just imagine the fun you could have in telling people you were considering conversion ....
"We should have been more worried about Pope Troll the First...."
Every time he dialled a fax number, the same person answered.
"This is not the number you wished to reach," and nothing else, hanging up.
Until this morning. "It is not your time."
And every fax number is the same for him as for everyone else now.
Fake Fact: Chicken McNuggets come in five shapes: the sword, the wand, the coin, the cup and the pearl
Has there ever been a winter of content?
He decided the reading of his will should be three days after he died. Just in case.
He is wondering what his wedding dress will look like.
She is fitting her tux, preparing for a stag do.
They tell everyone it is to shatter social norms.
And they wait for someone to call their bluff.
"I could not love you half so much loved I not my mistress more."
He had so many many stories crawling around in his head waiting to be born that he sometimes wondered what would happen to them when he died, and how zombies were truly born. The zombie who would shamble about in frustrated incoherence, devoid of coffee and biting others to pass on ideas in some fashion amused him. But never enough to write it down.
Every moment of perfection is a heart-beat away from failure.
"How much do you love me?"
"Enough to pay half of your credit card bills."
"Starbucks it is. You buy, I talk." Ardith Coldwell fell into step beside me. "You know, boy, I think that when I look back on my life, one of my regrets will be not killing you when I had the chance."
"Maybe. But you wouldn’t be talking to me if you didn’t think I could stop Clive. I think saving ninety thousand people from dying is worth a few regrets, don’t you?"
She said nothing to that; I decided that was a good sign.
Some days I feel that I'm not real,
Some days that you're not either
And that everything that falls apart
Does so for a reason.
This may be the first line to a novel soon:
You can tell everything you need to know about someone by how they take band-aids off.
From WIP:
I'd sent a magician running away from me with his tail between his legs; even I had to admit it was getting to be a dangerous habit. The problem with the kind of rep I'd developed was that I'd have to do things that justified it at some point, and I wasn't looking forward to any of it at all.
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