Rest You Merry

he—I do wish somebody would think up a new collective pronoun—

It was nip, tuck, and a costly speeding ticket, but he managed to each the library in time...

Thorkjeld Svenson was awesome enough in ordinary garb; swathed in acres of brown wool bathrobe, unshaven and red-eyed, hair twisted up into iron-gray horns at either side of his thunderous forehead, he was terrifying.

Why should a killer stick his neck out to buy or steal a lethal compound when plenty of local windowsills offered death for the picking, even in midwinter? Poinsettias and mistletoe, for instance...

There was also a handsome water-color portrait of the balaclava Buster, the work of a lady botany professor who had hoped to reach her colleague's heart through his rutabaga. Cross-pollination had not been successful. The lady married somebody else and shandy continued his comfortable bachelor's life

Wait a second. Are you saying you know for a positive fact how many marbles were in that dish?" "Of course..." "I'll tell Harry you haven't got all your marbles.