If It Was Up To Me, I’d

Shut Up," I Hissed. Ticked That He Was Taller Than Me, I Stepped Up Onto A Nearby Coffee Table. "i'm Not In A Cage Anymore," I Said, Keeping Enough Presence Of Mind Not To Poke Him In The Chest With A Finger. His Face Went Startled, Then Cloric. "the Only Thing Between Your Head And My Foot Becoming Real Close And Personal Right Now Is My Questionable Professionalism. And If You Ever Threaten Me Again, I'll Slam You Halfway Across The Room Before You Can Say Number-two Pencil. Got It, You Tall Freak Of Nature?

A Devious Spark Lit Through Al, Making Me Smile. One Way. It Costs Too Much, He Said. “there’s No Inflation In The Ever-after, Al.” Call It A Recession Then. One Way.

Hey,” The Other Said, Coming To Life. “you’re Supposed To Be In Jail.” Al Grinned At Him, His White-gloved Grip Tightening On The Wooden Handle, Which Was Intricately Carved In The Shape Of A Naked, Writhing Woman. Nice. “and Your Momma Wanted You To Have A Brain,” He Said, Yanking The Door Open And Slamming It Into The Guy’s Face.

You Should Be Dead," He Said, His Voice Full Of Wonder. "how Is It That You're Still Alive?" Jaw Clenched, I Worked At His Grip On Me, Trying To Get My Fingers Between Him And My Wrist. "i Work Hard At It.

I’ve Got Your Back. Nothing Alive Will Ever Hurt You If I Have Breath In Me. And Nothing Dead Will Hurt You If I Don’t.” (kisten)