Red Tash

Only the wicked understand the ways of the wicked, my dear. ~Madame Zelda to Roller Deb

If Liana wanted to fight over Harlow, she was going to lose. Not that I liked him that way. That was to say, I wasn't sure how I felt about Harlow, but it damned sure wasn't up to her to tell me.

Oh, hell. You're a fairy," I said. "Yeah," he said. "You know, they call it 'being gay' nowadays, but sure, whatever.

So confusing. It was some kind of magic, I knew that for sure, but I didn't understand the subtleties of it all. You'd have thought all those years of HBO and shit would have prepared me better.

I envisioned him tied in a chair, an iron arrow pointed at his brow. Ah, the power of positive thinking.

There were lots of things in this lifetime that I'd doubted, precious little I'd known for sure. But in that moment, I knew I would save her, or die trying.

She took a deep breath. "Let me begin again." If this girl wanted to play ball in front of her department head, Christine would bring it. She closed her eyes and accessed the most expensive Philo Department vocabulary words she possessed."Well, as human beings, when we immanentize the eschaton_

There was nothing but power, and those who hadn't yet found the tap. (Greachin)

Oh, I love you, June, I really do. It's just that you sounded so...twat-ish just then.

He looked up at the round, stained glass window in front of him, a blurred kaleidoscope backlit in the morning sun. It glowed. The color of heaven. Of her hair. He sat back and cracked open the dry, leather cover of a pew Bible, and a mixture of sweat and tears christened its pristine pages.

He was six years old this time, and ancient.

When am I going to learn to stop questioning authority and just eat the Soylent Green?