The Twisted Ones

Bongo is an excellent watchdog, by which I mean that he will watch very alertly as the serial killer breaks into the house and skins me.

If dogs had religion, Satan would be the UPS guy.

I’m a freelance editor. I turn decent books into decently readable books and hopeless books into hopeless books with better grammar.

Books on World War II appear spontaneously in any house that contains a man over a certain age. I believe that’s science.

I suspect if I had owned a border collie, this story would have a very different ending, and I probably would not have been around to type it up. But I had Bongo, and he saved our lives because he is simple and made of nose.

Everybody yells at Orpheus and Lot's wife. Put yourself in their shoes for five minutes and you'd yell a lot less, I promise you.

There was a brief silence while we all tried to recover from Foxy's metaphor.

is an immutable law of the universe that whenever you listen to NPR in a strange place, it will be Pledge Week.

We weren’t big on funerals in my family. I know some families have these massive orgies of grief, where all the third cousins come back and sob over the casket, but we’re not like that.

The closet was as bare as the rest of the room. A few suits of clothes. A pair of bedroom slippers and a pair of scuffed leather shoes. Three Time Life books on World War II, but that probably didn't mean anything. Books on World War II appear spontaneously in any house that contains a man over a certain age. I believe that's science.

We were making jokes. We were making jokes while, in the back of my mind, a man fell down with a makeshift spear through his chest, blood on white skin. We were making jokes while unspeakable things chased us in the dark. Maybe that’s why we were making jokes.

He didnt come to dinner one night, and when i asked, Foxy shook her head. "Bad brain day," she said. "Skip's got the bipolar thing. He's got meds for it and he takes 'em real good, but he still has bad days.

You don't have to do it just because I asked, Mouse." I paused. The correct answer was, Yes, I know. The true answer was, Yes, I do.

Oh, don’t lie to yourself, Mouse. You could walk away from Kilroy and the rest without feeling too much of a qualm, but it’s killing you to think there’s a weird book hidden somewhere and you might not get to read it.

Look, if it’s gonna come to life and take a chunk out of me, I’d rather it did now than when my back was turned.” There was a certain logic to this position. The dead twisted one did not take a chunk out of her, despite several solid pokes with the stick. I think Foxy might have been slightly disappointed.

She’d have been thrilled if he’d vanished. She’d have decided that he ran away to spite her, probably with another woman. She’d have milked that so hard that she’d have lived another thirty years on pure hate.

Every time I went over there, she was snipping at him—snip, snip, snip, like her tongue was pruning shears and she was slicing off bits for fun.

I’ll say, “Hey, guys, I was up on those hills that are apparently in my backyard and there’s all these carved rocks,” and they’ll say, “Oh, yeah, that’s a State Historic Site, the Moonshine Hill Stones. Didn’t you see the sign?” and I’ll say, “Isn’t there supposed to be a ranger or something?” and they’ll say, “Well, you know, budget cuts…” and we’ll nod sadly about the way local government cuts things like this, and also education, but the police department gets an armored assault vehicle even though they mostly deal with rogue cows.…

There are very few people who can use a pet name on me, but Southern waitresses can get away with it every time.

It's a long drive. It's pretty, actually, if you go through West Virginia, but of course then you're in West Virginia.

A semi came screaming around a bend in the road, interrupting my thoughts and reminding me suddenly of why walking by the side of the road on a country lane was best reserved for historical romance and Led Zeppelin songs.

If you are, then you’re an awful old biddy and I wish I’d died before I married you. Go ahead and say something about that, if you’re willing to admit you’ve been snooping.

Thanks, self. That was real helpful. A+ coping mechanism.

Her bangles clacked together as she flailed her hands in the air. “You don’t let your neighbors get et by monsters alone.

But if the UPS guy ever tries to put one over on us, Bongo’s on the case. If dogs had religion, Satan would be the UPS guy.

Frank at the dump saw so much of me these days that I was close to writing him into my will. Mind you, emptying two truckloads of dead doll parts together is a bonding experience.