“You know that old saying. Once you go dead, no one's better in bed.”
“You called her Kitten? And she let you? She put me in a coma for three days when I
called her that! My balls never recovered from her smashing them into my spine!”
“She's my kitten, and no one else's.”
“Where are you, bloodsuckers? Here, fangy, fangy, fangy...”
“I have been stabbed, shot, burned, bitten, beaten unconscious too many times to count, and even staked. None of those held a candle to the pain I felt at seeing his mouth on hers.”
“Juan gave Bones the most admiring look he’d bestowed on him yet. “You talked her into going without panties all these years? Madre de Dios, now that’s impressive. I could learn a great deal from you, amigo.”
“Wrong way, Bones. The men's showers are in the opposite direction."
I'll file that away with all the other information that doesn't pertain to me" was Bones' mocking reply.”
“And that, Annette, is called Pilates”
“Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why did he have to stand so close, and why did I still love him so much? ”
“And there is my payment the rubies in your cheeks. Are you properly scandalized by your wicked behavior? If you were Catholic, you'd singe the ears of the priest you confessed to. Do you remember making me swear to repeat all those naughty actions agian, no matter what you said this morning?"
Now that he brought it up, I did recall saying that. Great Betrayed by my own immorality.
"God, Bones...some of that was depraved."
"I'll take that as a compliment." He closed the distance between us."I love you. Don't be ashamed of anything we did, even if your prudery is on life support.”
“...cursing my heels and debating whether it was faster to stop and take them off--damn ankle straps!--or keep running with the potential neck breakers. Wouldn’t that make a charming epitaph? Here lies Cat. Killed not by fang, but Ferragamos.”
“You called her Kitten? And she let you? She put me in a coma for three days when I called her that? My balls never recovered from her smashing them into my spine?" "And well she should have," Bones agreed. "She's my Kitten, and no one else's”
“Now I am short on some props, and there isn't nearly enough time in one night to run through all the ways I've fantasized about taking you, but I promise you this..." His voice deepened, "You'll be scandalized in the morning when you can think again.”
“Time has no dominion over love. Love is the one thing that transcends time. (Bones)”
“Careful, luv. I might be angry with you, but that doesn't mean I don't still want you. So if you do that again, I'll shag you right here, right now, and sod anyone who wants to watch”
“Do you know what you’ve done?” I asked in a bland tone. Annette gave me
an inquiring look. “You’ve gotten on my last nerve.”
The table went crashing into her before she could blink, and then my fist found a home in
her perfectly arranged hair.”
“Shit. I hated her already, and we hadn’t even met.”
“You know what your problem is, Justina? You're in desperate need of a good shag. "Not that I'm offering you one myself, mind. My days as a whore ended back in the seventeen hundreds."
The gin was abruptly sucked back into my lungs as I gasped. He did not just tell my mother about his former profession; sweet Jesus, let me have heard incorrectly!
I hadn't, and Bones went right on. "... But I have a friend who owes me a favor and he could be persuaded to... Kitten, are you all right?"
I'd stopped breathing as soon as he casually admitted to his prior occupation. Add that to the liquid stuck in my lungs, and no, I wasn't all right.”
“You can run from the grave, but you can't hide.”
“I’m in, Cat. I’d never leave you. Especially when you’ve got death breathing down your neck.” “Very funny,” I retorted, since Bones was inches from my throat”
“You'll drain me dry, but not my neck, and you'll beg me to stop before I'm finished." -Bones”
“Wouldn’t that make a charming epitaph? Here lies Cat. Killed not by fang, but Ferragamos.”
“Got any stock tips?” I couldn’t help but ask. “The government doesn’t pay shit for
salary.”
“I'd address his way of trying to discourage Ian later. After all, he could have come up with something other than saying I was a whiny, smelly, trumpet-snoring bad lay.”
“I love you, Kitten.
Don't try to get out of this. We'll see if you love me when I pay you back.
Even then I will love you, Bones called out as I stomped away.”
“So that makes him, like, your fang granddaddy.”
“Once you go dead, there's no one better in bed!" ~ Cat”
“Christ girl, Ι wasn't even going to bite you. Well, not the way you're thinking."
"I'm flattered you want to fuck me as well as muder me. Really, Liam, that's sweet."
He grinned. "Valentine's Day was just last month, after all.”
“I'm not fretting over control with you. You can have all of the command you desire as long as we're together. I'll just save my demands for the bedroom."
I flushed. Bones just chuckled and brought my hand to his lips.”
“Bastard hits harder than a fucking freight train."
I just smiled. "I know.”
“Be grateful for your immorality, but do not deny them the honor of their mortality.”
“White liberals, instead of comparing what has happened to the black family since the liberal welfare state policies of the 1960s were put into practice, compare black families to white families and conclude that the higher rates of broken homes and unwed motherhood among blacks are due to “a legacy of slavery.” But why the large-scale disintegration of the black family should have begun a hundred years after slavery is left unexplained. Whatever the situation of the black family relative to the white family, in the past or the present, it is clear that broken homes were far more common among blacks at the end of the twentieth century than they were in the middle of that century or at the beginning of that century —even though blacks at the beginning of the twentieth century were just one generation out of slavery. The widespread and casual abandonment of their children, and of the women who bore them, by black fathers in the ghettos of the late twentieth century was in fact a painfully ironic contrast with what had happened in the immediate aftermath of slavery a hundred years earlier, when observers in the South reported desperate efforts of freed blacks to find family members who had been separated from them during the era of slavery.”
“And the Italian thing. He speaks fucking Italian, fluently.” Ashton shook his head and gripped my arm. “Use your powers, Alabama. For the sake of jocks everywhere, use the fucking pussy-magnet powers you’ve been granted!”
“On trial were two men, one in a plaid shirt, and the other with a long, ZZ Top-style beard. They looked intimated by the crowd that had turned out, even though Plaid Shirt stood six foot four. He was the main perpetrator, charged with animal cruelty. He had brought his young son along during the bear killing for which he was on trial.
The main reason the state managed to bring charges is that the hunters had made a videotape of their gruesome acts. The state trooper who confiscated the video couldn’t even testify at the time of the trial, he was so emotionally overcome.
Then they showed the video in court, and I understood why. ZZ Top and Plaid Shirt cornered the bear cub. In order to preserve the integrity of the pelt, they attempted to kill the cub by stabbing it in the eyes.
It was absolutely gut-wrenching to watch. The bear struggled for its life, but Plaid Shirt kept thrusting his knife, moving back as the animal twisted frantically away, then moving forward to stab again. The bear cub screamed, and it sounded eerily as though the bear was actually crying “Mama,” over and over. Plaid Shirt and ZZ Top sat unfazed in court. The bear screamed, “Mama, mama, mama.” From my place in the gallery, I watched as a towering man in a police uniform burst into tears and walked out of the courtroom. At the end of the video, Plaid Shirt brought his nine-year-old son over to stand triumphantly next to the dead bear cub.
“Clearly, you deserve jail,” the judge told Plaid Shirt as he stood for sentencing. “Unfortunately, the jails are filled with people even more heinous than you: rapists, murderers, and armed robbers. So I am going to sentence you to three thousand hours of community service.”
I approached the judge after the trial, furious that this man might end up collecting a bit of rubbish along the highway as his penance.
“I want him,” I said, referring to Plaid Shirt. I said that I ran a wildlife rehabilitation facility and could use a volunteer.
The first day Plaid Shirt showed up, he actually looked scared of me. He cleaned cages, fed animals, and worked hard. He liked the bobcat I was taking care of, “Bobby.” He said it was the biggest one he had ever seen. It would make a prize trophy.
I asked him every question I could think of: where he hunted, how he hunted, why he hunted. Whether he had any kind of shirt other than plaid. I felt as though I was in the presence of true evil.
For months he helped. He had some skills, like carpentry, and he could lift heavy things. He fulfilled his community service. In the end, I couldn’t tell if I had made any difference or not. I was only slightly encouraged by his parting words.
“You know,” Plaid Shirt said, “I never knew cougars purred.”
“Gotta have my make up, in case I run into Joey and he wants to beat the shit out of me. Gotta look my best! Maybe he'll punch me repeatedly in the kidneys and the stomach so it doesn't mark up my face. He's so thoughtful!”
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