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368 pages, Paperback
First published May 10, 2012
I'd never thought of what sort I liked; stories were stories, like cows were cows. But there were different sorts of cows: fat ones, skinny ones, standing-up cows, lying down cows, black and white cows, and brown cows.
My new room gave me a phobia I had no name for. Perhaps there's no better name for it than small-person-in-big-brothers'-former-bedroom phobia. Which isn't as bad as big-brothers'-in-dead-granny's-bedroom phobia.
Indeed, he stopped being The Old Bore and became The Dirty Old Sod. I knew dirty old sods; Father put them on top of Granny Hazel after he buried her.
“In an infinite number of multiverses.”
“Plus one.”
Sophie screamed and ran out of the room, waving her arms in the air and shouting, “My head's exploding.”