Meddling Kids

No book is dangerous in and of itself, you know. But historically, reading a book in the wrong way has led to terrible consequences.

The straw that breaks the camel's back always looks light enough, until it lands.

The night was cold but gentle like an X-rated metaphor.

What?" The italics just flew out past the alcohol's guard.

I saw the whole thing! A dog and a penguin helped him escape!

How is that an excuse?!" Andy howled. "Why do all bullies think they can get away with 'I was a kid'? Guess what: I was a kid too, and I didn't make other people feel like shit! You were not a kid, you were a cunt!

The radio played “Groove Is in the Heart,” which is a radio’s way of saying it couldn’t care less about the mood of a scene.

Andy kicked her way in, moonlit and angerstruck, doors shattering the decoration behind as she shouted at the shocked furniture: “Blyton Summer Fucking Detective Club! Anybody home?” Kerri and Nate came to flank her right after, rifles aimed at the horrified haunted house. Tim scurried between them, promenaded across the hall, stopped by a decorative suit of armor, and peed on it.

Flying monkeys exist in literature, Nate,” Kerri said. “Horror writers who get laid exist in literature.

I think I broke Kerri,” she said. “Go fix her,” Al commanded, unfazed. “We’ve got enough broken parts.

Tim curled up in a corner of the backseat, sheltering his penguin from the storm, all tensed up in “scandalized Maggie Smith” pose.

The night was cold but gentle like an X-rated metaphor. It was crowded too—with owls and fireflies and distant galaxies.

Peter sat as powerless as an overwhelmed female character in a Victorian drama.

They walked out into the first morning after the apocalypse - a day that had just barged in sweaty and unkempt like a late commuter, asking, Anything happen while I was out?

Kerri’s anxiety attack had not repeated; in her words, she was too anxious to afford one.

Why do all bullies think they can get away with 'I was a kid'? Guess what: I was a kid too, and I didn't make other people feel like shit! You were not a kid, you were a cunt!

The remarkable thing now was emerging from the vortex, a thing for which no one had words and Nate was only able to punctuate with “Holy Satan’s crotch.

The novelty of bare rock walls instead of concrete had become old at the speed of SNL material.

Kerri stopped to wonder how the information continued to flow past someone called "Deaf Anne" while Nate took over.

She turned to Nate, who had just stepped in, and threw the Necronomicon at him.

Mystery always has a way of finding you, eh?

The straw that breaks the camel’s back always looks light enough, until it lands.

There’s not that many things I’ve got left to see in this world, you know? Shit, when you’re writing fantasy erotica for a living, you’re really scraping the bottom of the bucket list!

Cap, I’m sorry,” she said. “Peter’s dead.” Andy and Nate watched the smile on Captain Al transition to incomprehension, then to incredulity, then to sadness. As smoothly as flowers closing up at night, almost too slow for the naked eye, Captain Al’s smile withered and died. “No.” His voice quivered. “No no no no no. Why did he die?

Wow, you read pulp horror too?” she said, pitch gliding off the sarcasm scale. “Finally someone sophisticated. I’m sick of this town of Milton hooligans!