There´s My Date, I Said.

Nothing Makes Me Happy Quite Like A Boatload Of Freshly Fried Fast Food, Smothered In Good Old Msg.

He Gave Marcie A Spare To The Jeep—i Should Park This Thing In The Ocean, Twenty Feet Under.

That’s An Unfortunate Place For A Birthmark,” I Said, More Than A Little Unnerved That It Was So Similarly Positioned To My Own Scar. Patch Casually But Noticeably Slid His Sleeve Down Over His Wrist. “you’d Prefer It Someplace More Private?” “i Wouldn’t Prefer It Anywhere.” I Wasn’t Sure How This Sounded And Tried Again. “i Wouldn’t Care If You Didn’t Have It At All.” I Tried A Third Time. “i Don’t Care About Your Birthmark, Period.

You Didn’t Tell Me She Was So Soft On The Eyes,” He Said To Patch, Wiping His Mouth With The Back Of His Hand. He Spoke With A Heavy Irish Accent. “i Didn’t Tell Her How Hard You Are On Them Either,” Patch Returned, His Mouth At The Relaxed Stage Just Before A Grin.

I Don't Have 'five' You Can Borrow. My Piggy Bank Is Officially Anorexic.