I Mean, Who Cares About

Fair Isn't Fair, Dean. Like I'm Supposed To Help You Because Fair Is Fair? Try I Need You To Help Me So I Wont Rip Out Your Spine And Beat You With It. I Might Respond To That, Maybe.

The Writing In Mission To Paris, Sentence After Sentence, Page After Page, Is Dazzling. If You Are A John Le Carr Fan, This Is Definitely A Novel For You.

Sometimes He Seems Like A Droid--or A Drone. Fang Of Nine. Fang2-d2.

And There I Was, Pretty As Heck, Brown Eyes, A Few Freckles, Fashion Challenged, And A Bad Attitude. Max Ii.

When Did They Start Coming After You?” “was It—was It After The Oil- Slick Hummer Crash?” The Gasman Asked Iggy Tentatively. My Eyes Widened. Oil-slick Hummer Crash? Iggy Rubbed His Chin, Thinking. “or Maybe It Was More---after The Bomb,” The Gasman Said In A Low Voice, Looking Down. “i Think It Was The Bomb,” Iggy Agreed. “that Definitely Seemed To Tick Them Off.” “bomb?” I Asked Incredulously.