“You think it’s easy living in the garden? The never-ending picnic — that’s what your Bible says, doesn’t it?”
“You think it’s easy living in the garden? The never-ending picnic — that’s what your Bible says, doesn’t it?”
For weeks, Sprite had told herself that Ratchanee Malakul was helping her hero get better, but no. “You have to accept that Jaran is never going to have sex with you,” the lifeguide told Sprite, as she was leaving on that last day.
I awoke the next morning to find the machine in my bedroom, sorting clothes from a laundry basket into my dresser drawers. Not only had it ironed my jeans and tee shirts, but it was folding my panties.
I swiped at her and she danced out of reach. I don’t know what I would have done if I had caught her. Maybe smashed her through the picture window onto the patch of front lawn or shaken her until pieces started falling off.
Klary has paid an outrageous price to bait the trap, has discreetly encouraged the rumors about her illegal acquisition.
Faithful sister, you’ve been staring at the horizon for all these long years, standing to your shoulders in the restless sea.
You know, in space nobody wears shoes.
My imaginary wife and I are much happier these days, thank you. We’ve come through some tough times and we’re still together. So far. But we still have a way to go. Exactly how long, I’m not sure. When you attempt to exceed 299,792.46 kilometers per second, here and there are only probabilities. Relative to you, I am no place. I do not exist.
The dogs squatted in a row next to the book drop, acting as if they owned the sidewalk. There were three of them, grand in their bowler hats and paisley vests and bow ties. They were like no dogs Rain had ever seen before.
The bank’s janitor, Hiram Hickock, discovered the second most extraordinary thing about the chair. It could not be moved.
The thing was way too thin, its skin was shiny, its fingers too long and its face—it looked like one of those Barbie dolls.