When I want to be lectured on strategy, I'll consult someone who's actually won battles, ' Amelie said. 'Not one who ran away from them.' 'Snap, ' Eve said. 'You know what they're talking about?' Shane asked. 'Don't need to know to get that one. She smacked him so hard his momma felt it.
After climbing off his bike, I smacked his shoulder. 'Did you forget I was with you? Are you trying to get me killed?' 'It's hard to forget you're behind me when your thighs are squeezing the life out of me.' A smirk came with his next thought. 'I couldn't think of a better way to die, actually.' 'There is something very wrong with you.
I had expected that at some point during the first draft a light would go on, and I would understand, finally, how to write a book. This never happened. The process was akin to blindly walking in the dark, feeling my way only by touch, and only recognising dead ends when I smacked into them.
Do you still have any delusions? For instance, does the furniture threaten you like you said the bureau did at home?" "No, not really. That bureau at the end of my bed here got a little threatening the other day, but I got up and smacked it, and told it that it was nothing but a bureau, and it hasn't bothered me since.
Barbara Field Benziger
Hekate smacked the mirror down. "I'd never fancy you, " she retorted to Hermes. "And if you ever try to kiss me, I'll-I'll keep a snake hidden in my clothes and make it bite you. On the lips. And on both ears." "See, your threats are still age twelve, " Hermes said. "I'll help you work on that.
Women are mad at me. A girl came up to me on the street and she almost smacked me. Like, 'How could you? How could you let a girl like that go?' I feel like I want to give people hugs, they seem so sad. Rachel and I should be the ones getting hugs! Instead, we're consoling everybody else.
Y'all might as well come on out, ' I said. 'I know you're there. I can smell you.' 'Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!' an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. 'Shut up, idiot.
Y'all might as well come on out," I said. "I know you're there. I can smell you." "Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!" an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. "Shut up, idiot.
There was an outburst of noise and protests, and Jeremy announced I wasn't being logical, of course they wouldn't sell me, because it was illegal, for heaven's sake. Alexa gave him a look that said you're not helping, and Gil smacked him on the back of the head, and Olivia said, yes, that was the only reason they weren't going to sell me.
All [Sadie's] previous attempts [of making a shabti (an Egyptian avatar of one's self)] had exploded or gone haywire, terrorizing Khufu and the initiates. Last week she'd created a magical Thermos with googly eyes that levitated around the room, yelling, "Exterminate! Exterminate!" until it smacked me in the head.
I'm looking for a man" Bree started. "Aren't we all, dear? All I got's bread and doughnuts, but they're the next best thing" "I don't know about that.. well maybe doughnuts. I've lost my.. friend. He's tall-sixfour-longish dark hair, wearing a kilt" "Oh him" She smacked a hand over her heart "I'd take him over doughnuts any day
I smell pancakes," Al said as he jauntily smacked Pierce's hat back on the witch's head. "Did the runt make you breakfast?" Al said, leaning over the stove. "Quickest way to a woman's crotch is through her gullet, eh?" he said, leering at Pierce, who was now rinsing out the percolator. "Is it working? I'd be curious to know. I'd buy her a cake or something.
Craziness is only a matter of degree, and there are lots of people besides me who have the urge to roll heads. They go to stock-car races and the horror movies and the wrestling matches they have in Portland Expo. Maybe what she said smacked of all those things, but I admired her for saying out loud, all the same-the price of honesty is always high. She had an admirable grasp of the fundamentals. Besides, she was tiny and pretty.
I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him." "He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look. "We've tried to teach her manners, but..." She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was a puppy, maybe." Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof.
I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him." "He's right here, Ri, " Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look. "We've tried to teach her manners, but... " She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was a puppy, maybe." Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof.
When Thad began nuzzling her neck, pressing his opened lips against her, she smacked him in the back of the head. "Don't go vamp on me now!" "Whaa!" He shot upright, his fangs sharp. "Where am I?" She glanced at his fangs, then down. "Oh, my gods, when do you not sport wood? There are bathrooms in the back, so go burp the worm or whatever.
And this must be Avery?" "Oh, God, no," Cam said. "This is Candy, Mom." His mother's eyes widened and a bit of color infused her cheeks. "Uh, I'm..." "I'm Avery," I said, shooting Cam a look. "You had it right." She spun around, smacking Cam across the arm. Hard, too. "Cameron! Oh my God. I thought..." She smacked him again and he laughed. "You're terrible.
Whitney smacked Coop's snout while simultaneously pressing herself deeper into the couch. Coop fixed her with an unblinking ice-blue stare, gray-brown fur bristling along his spine. "Tory!" Whitney squealed. "He's going to attack!" "Maybe." I walked into the kitchen and snagged a Diet Coke from the fridge. "Try to protect your throat.
But there were moments when she played songs that made you wonder where she learned them, where indeed she came from. Harsh-tender wandering tunes with words that smacked of pinewoods or prairie. One went: Don't wanna sleep, Don't wanna die, Just wanna go a-travelin' through the pastures of the sky; and this one seemed to gratify her the most, for often she continued it long after her hair hard dried, after the sun had gone and there were lighted windows in the dusk.
Honey, it isn't democracy that runs this country. Capitalism rules. It does no good to reason with the capitalists or their politicians. This is a class war. We have to stir up the American people, the lower class. Some of the better-off lower class do show some sympathy for us when they're smacked with the facts. And when they voice themselves collectively, good things happen.' - Mother Jones
Gabrielle, Hale?" Kat smacked his shoulder. "It wasn't bad enough that you got me kicked out of school, but you had to use her to help you? Gabrielle!" "I can hear you," her cousin sang beside her. Hale looked at Gabrielle and gestured at Kat. "She's adorable when she's jealous." Kat kicked his shin.
You do know him, so that's a lame excuse." It was a lame excuse, but it was the best I had. "How do you really ever truly know someone?" Brit smacked her hands to her cheeks and she shook her head. "He's not a serial killer." "Speaking of serial killers, everyone thought Ted Bundy was a really charming, handsome man. And look how he turned out. Psycho." Jacob stared at me. "He's not Ted Bundy.
Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove-no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And at my feet something that smacked of familiar miens, a stone half buried in a pitch of heather. A stone bearing my name and a date I could hardly remember. A moment passed, another and in those moments I stood numb with gluey feet at the foot of my own grave. For the first time since I'd come to the Faeran Valley, I was alone. And the silence was deafening.
Okay, someone's been smoking the wacky tobacky. And keep your hands to yourself!' She smacked at his roving fingers, fighting the shivers following his touch. "I agreed to let you accompany me because, well... maybe you're right. We should try and put the animosity between our families-stop that!" She gripped his fingers and tried to twist them, but he easily pulled out of her grip. Alessandro laughed. 'Darling, I haven't laughed in ages like I do when I'm with you. I propose a clean slate, eh?' He sighed and sat back against the seat. 'Brianna. I'm not going to give up until you are mine. You could make this so much easier if you just accept the inevitable.' He lifted his hand to cup the side of her face. 'We belong to each other, and you know it.
I've never needed a bodyguard, Evan.' His hands stilled on the glasses. 'Maybe that isn't such a bad idea now.' 'It's a terrible idea. I would never want anyone watching every move I make. It's unnerving. There are fresh lemons in the bottom drawer.' Evan squatted and tugged open the vegetable crisper inside the refrigerator. 'You know, ' he waved a piece of the yellow fruit for emphasis, 'you may want to think about it, though.' Morgan smacked the table so hard the salt and pepper shakers jumped. He grinned and stood. 'Haven't lost your temper, I see.' 'My temper wasn't burned.
It took me almost two thousand miles in the woods to see I had to do some hard work that wasn't simply walking-that I needed to begin respecting my own body's boundaries. I had to draw clear lines. Ones that were sound in my mind and therefore impermeable, and would always, no matter where I walked, protect me. Moving forward, I wanted rules. First-when I felt unsafe I'd leave, immediately. The first time, not the tenth time. Not after a hundred red flags smacked in wind violently, clear as trail signs pointing the way to SNAKES. Not after I'd been bitten-the violation. If I wasn't interested, I would reject the man blatantly.
I GOTTA FIND MYSELF SOME GLUE I GOTTA FIND SOME NOW MY AIM IS I GOTTA FIND MYSELF, I GOTTA FIND MYSELF I'M A DRUNK MOTHERFUCKER I'M A SMACKED OUT LOVER AIN'T NO ONE TOUGHER I'M A DICK, I'M YOUR MASTER I'M A ROCK N ROLL DISASTER I'M A PUSHER, I'M A SHOVER I'M YOUR DIRTBAG LOVER I GOT TO DEAL WITH MY NEUROSIS I GOT TO DEAL WITH MY NEUROSIS I GOTTA FIND MYSELF SOME LOVE I GOTTA FIND MYSELF SOME DRUGS I GOTS TA SNIFFS MYSELF SOME GLUE I GOT TO FIND SOME TURPENTINE FOR YOU..YOU YOU YOU... I GOT TO FIND MYSELF
Michael rose to his feet and padded down the last few steps silently, came up behind Kim, and leaned over her to say, 'I vant to drink your blood' in a heavy, fake-Dracula accent. She shrieked, flailed, and a zombie ate her brains on-screen. You sabotaged me!' Kim yelled, dropped the controller, and smacked him hard on the chest. 'I can't believe you just totally sabotaged me!' Can't let him lose, ' Michael said, as Shane hit the high score and the victory music sounded. 'Gotta live with the dude.' They high-fived. You're seriously going to take that as a win, ' Kim said. 'When he totally cheated for you.' Yes, ' Shane said. 'I seriously am.
While everyone adjusted themselves and their packs, Donna sniffed curiously at Louie's nose. Her attitude suggested she might want to make friends with the giant dog; Lou couldn't resist the temptation. Once Donna lured Louie in, she slowly, cautiously, turned about to align her hooves with Louie's head. Perhaps she didn't like dogs. Perhaps she didn't want a rival for Monty's attentions. Perhaps she was merely an impish tarkus much like the Dane himself. Cody watched as the Dane failed to grasp the gravity of his predicament. At the last moment, Cody smacked Louie's hind end, scuttling the devious donkey's murderous trap.
Ah, mistress, you're an angel. Sure there's not a drop left? I might have remembered one more person... ' 'Up yours, ' I said rudely with another belch. 'It's empty. You should tell me the name anyway, after making me drink all that sewage.' Winston gave me a devious smile. 'Come back with a full bottle and I will.' 'Selfish spook, ' I mumbled, and staggered away. I'd made it a few feet when I felt that distinct pins-and-needles sensation again, only this time it wasn't in my throat. 'Hey!' I looked down in time to see Winston's grinning, transparent form fly out of my pants. He was chuckling even as I smacked at myself and hopped up and down furiously. 'Drunken filthy pig!' I spat. 'Bastard!' 'And a good eve'in' to you, too, mistress!' he called out, his edges starting to blur and fade. 'Come back soon!' 'I hope worms shit on your corpse!' was my reply. A ghost had just gotten to third base with me. Could I sink any lower?
When did my house turn into a hangout for every grossly overpaid, terminally pampered professional football player in northern Illinois?" "We like it here, " Jason said. "It reminds us of home." "Plus, no women around." Leandro Collins, the Bears' first-string tight end emerged from the office munching on a bag of chips. "There's times when you need a rest from the ladies." Annabelle shot out her arm and smacked him in the side of the head. "Don't forget who you're talking to." Leandro had a short fuse, and he'd been known to take out a ref here and there when he didn't like a call, but the tight end merely rubbed the side of his head and grimaced. "Just like my mama." "Mine, too, " Tremaine said with happy nod. Annabelle spun on Heath. "Their mother! I'm thirty-one years old, and I remind them of their mothers." "You act like my mother, " Sean pointed out, unwisely as it transpired, because he got a swat in the head next.
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Aiden smirked. "Wonder what this one is called?" The hellhound's ears twitched as the massive body lowered preparing for attack. I slid my hand to the middle of the blade, feeling my heart pound and the adrenaline kick my system into overdrive. In the pit of my stomach, the cord started to unravel. I swallowed. "Let's call this one... Toto." Three mouths opened in a growl that sent a cold chill down my spine, and a wave of hot, fetid breath smacked into us. Bile burned the back of my throat. "I guess it doesn't like the name, " I said, moving slowly to the right. Aiden's powerful body tensed. "Here, Toto... " One head snapped in his direction. "That's a good Toto." I slipped around the ancient cross, creeping up on the hellhound from the right. The middle and left head focused on me, snapping and growlying. Aiden clucked his tongue. "Come on, Toto, I'm pretty tasty.
Jennifer L. Armentrout
He [Zane] waited until Nuckal was right under the tree. Then Zane let go of the trunk and jumped down on top of the skeleton. Nuckal let out an "oof" as Zane landed on him, and the two rolled around on the ground until they smacked into a big rock. Zane was stunned for an instant, allowing the skeleton to get to his bony feet. "Ha!" said Nuckal. "You're my prisoner!" Zane rolled aside and sprang into a crouch, a shuriken in his hand. "No. You are my prisoner." "I said it first, " insisted Nuckal. "I hardly think that matters, " Zane answered. "I have a shuriken. You dropped your sword fifteen-point-two feet up the hill. How can I be your prisoner if you have no weapon?" Nuckal tapped his head with a long finger of a bone. "I have my brain... well, actually, I don't really, but I'll bet I'm still smarter than you." "Why would you think that?" asked Zane. "For one thing, when I climb trees, I don't fall out of them, " Nuckal said, with pride in his voice. "And I don't run around in the dark by myself in the middle of the night where I might run into trouble.
Like, okay, look up at that cloud and tell me what you see, ' Bree said, pointing up at the closest cloud above them. 'What do you mean, what do I see? It's a cloud. I see a cloud, ' Alessandro insisted. 'No, what do you see? Like when you go to a shrink and they make you look at ink blots, ' Bree explained. Alessandro looked over at her. 'How much wine did you drink?' She smacked his arm. 'I'll go first. I see a rabbit.' 'A rabbit?' Alessandro asked, laughing. 'Yeah, the top of that one is shaped like ears, long rabbit ears.' 'Ah, I see what you're doing now. All right then. That one there... looks like... ' Alessandro squinted his eyes as if hard in concentration. 'An airplane.' 'Oh, yeah. I see that, ' Bree agreed. 'Okay, what about that one?' She pointed to a cloud to Alessandro's right. 'That one looks rather like my wife's sweet pert little ass, ' Alessandro joked. 'After two kids? You're delusional, ' she said laughing. 'My turn. I think that one looks like... ' Bree tilted her head. 'My wife's beautiful round breasts, ' Alessandro injected. 'Stop that!' Bree said, giggling. 'Excuse me, I'm just playing the game.' 'No, you're not. You're being a horny guy.' Alessandro pressed a hand to his chest as if she had wounded him. 'To prove it to you, I say we compare.' He undid the buttons of her blouse and Bree was laughing too hard to stop him.
She has that voraciousness about children. She swoops in on them. Even I, in public was a beloved child. She'd parade me into town, smiling and teasing me, tickling me as she spoke with people on the sidewalks. When we got home, she'd trail off to her room like an unfinished sentence, and I would sit outside with my face pressed against her door, and replay the day in my head, searching for clues to what I had done to displease her. I have one memory that catches in me like a nasty clump of blood. Marian was dead about two years, and my mother had a cluster of friends come over for afternoon drinks. For hours, the child was cooed over, smothered with red lipstick kisses, tidied up with tissues, then lipstick smacked again. I was suppose to be reading in my room, but I sat at the top of the stairs watching. My mother finally was handed the baby, and she cuddled it ferociously. Oh, how, wonderful it is to hold a baby again! Adora jiggled it on her knee, walked it around the rooms, whispered to it, and I looked down from above like a spiteful little god, the back of my hand placed against my face, imagining how it felt to be cheek to cheek with my mother.
You really need to trade in that End Days psychology, Stephanie, for some silver-lining thinking, ' Jim said airily. 'Not every second of every day is a friggin' crisis. Besides, be careful what you wish for.' He paused to hand her a book, The Dark Side of the Light Chasers. 'Says here, the more psychic energy you invest in gloom and doom, the more likely you are to make it happen. The universe is very sensitive to these things, picks up on all those thought impressions, and the next thing you know, whack!' He smacked the back of his right hand against his left palm for emphasis. They rounded the hall, and the next thing Stephanie knew her head was being stuffed in a microwave. Microwave Man, one of the robots, provided the service. 'Five seconds to a side, makes for an evenly cooked meal, ' Microwave Man said. He waited five seconds, then turned Stephanie's head. 'Get me out of here! I feel my brains boiling!' Stephanie screamed frantically. But Jim, as strong as he was, was no match for Microwave Man. 'He's got ahold of your hair. I'll run and get some scissors.' 'I'll be dead by then, you fool!' 'What did I say about looking on the bright side, Stephanie?
Dean C. Moore
Beauty! Wasn't that what mattered? Beauty was hardly a popular ideal at that jumpy moment in history. The masses had been desensitized to it, the intelligentsia regarded it with suspicion. To most of her peers, 'beauty' smacked of the rarefied, the indulgent, the superfluous, the effete. How could persons of good conscience pursue the beautiful when there was so much suffering and injustice in the world? Ellen Cherry's answer was that if one didn't cultivate beauty, soon he or she wouldn't be able to recognize ugliness. The prevalence of social ugliness made commitment to physical beauty all the more essential. And the very presence in life of double-wide mobile homes, Magic Marker graffiti, and orange shag carpeting had the effect of making ills such as poverty, crime, repression, pollution, and child abuse seem tolerable. In a sense, beauty was the ultimate protest, and, in that it generally lasted longer than an orgasm, the ultimate refuge. The Venus de Milo screamed 'No!' at evil, whereas the Spandex stretch pant, the macrame plant holder were compliant with it. Ugly bedrooms bred ugly habits. Of course, it wasn't required of beauty that it perform a social function. That was what was valuable about it.
His heart cracked, and he fell in love. He wondered if she would marry him. 'Tu sei pazzo, ' she told him with a pleasant laugh. 'Why am I crazy?' he asked. 'Perche non posso sposare.' 'Why can't you get married?' 'Because I am not a virgin, ' she answered. 'What has that got to do with it?' 'Who will marry me? No one wants a girl who is not a virgin.' 'I will. I'll marry you.' 'Ma non posso sposarti.' 'Why can't you marry me?' 'Perche sei pazzo.' 'Why am I crazy?' 'Perche vuoi sposarmi.' Yossarian wrinkled his forehead with quizzical amusement. 'You won't marry me because I'm crazy, and you say I'm crazy because I want to marry you? Is that right?' 'Si.' 'Tu sei pazz'!' he told her loudly. 'Perche?' she shouted back at him indignantly, her unavoidable round breasts rising and falling in a saucy huff beneath the pink chemise as she sat up in bed indignantly. 'Why am I crazy?' 'Because you won't marry me.' 'Stupido!' she shouted back at him, and smacked him loudly and flamboyantly on the chest with the back of her hand. 'Non posso sposarti! Non capisci? Non posso sposarti.' 'Oh, sure, I understand. And why can't you marry me?' 'Perche sei pazzo!' 'And why am I crazy?' 'Perche vuoi sposarmi.' 'Because I want to marry you. Carina, ti amo, ' he explained, and he drew her gently back down to the pillow. 'Ti amo molto.' 'Tu sei pazzo, ' she murmured in reply, flattered. 'Perche?' 'Because you say you love me. How can you love a girl who is not a virgin?' 'Because I can't marry you.' She bolted right up again in a threatening rage. 'Why can't you marry me?' she demanded, ready to clout him again if he gave an uncomplimentary reply. 'Just because I am not a virgin?' 'No, no, darling. Because you're crazy.
Kimmy, your papa has told you I'm not your uncle, has he not?" he asked the girl. Kimmy stared back at him with a quiet, solemn wisdom. "But you're my uncle because I picked you to be. But I understand you're upset with me and Mommy right now, 'cause you think we were mean to Daddy." She reached out to touch his cheek with her tiny hand. "I promise, we're gonna make Daddy very happy, though." His lips quirked sadly. Crowe realized that perhaps Kimmy was right, in some ways. Ivan had been furious since the night Kimmy had arrived. "Yes, I know you make your papa very happy, " he said softly. "And perhaps it's not so much anger I feel as it is jealousy, because my beautiful little girl no longer needs her papa." "All little girls need their daddy." Kimmy promised him then. "Just sometimes." She gave Crowe a very firm look before turning back to Ivan. "Our daddies just get silly and hurt our feelings really bad and don't know it. Did you hurt your little girl's feelings, Uncle Ivan?" "I would hope I did not, " he answered, almost amused. "Well, I think you should ask her." Kimmy crossed her arms and stuck out one little sneaker-shod foot as she nodded wisely. "And just ask her nice, like you would ask her if she wanted ice cream. Maybe have ice cream when you ask her." She nodded again as she gave this advice. Ivan blinked back at her, then lifted his gaze to Crowe. "You, my friend, are in so much trouble, " he murmured. Kimmy turned back and flashed Crowe a grin so innocent he nearly winced. Oh Lord- "Yeah, " he answered Ivan. "I am." "Come, little one." Focusing on Kimmy once more, he held out his hands. "You may call me Uncle Ivan then." An infectious giggle fell from her lips as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged with all the exuberance of an emotionally confident six-year-old. "I didn't ask for permission, Uncle Ivan." She smacked a kiss to his cheek. "I already knew it was okay." Then she turned and bounced out of the room just as quickly.