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Staten Island – The Outcast Coven
Seems fitting
I wanted the bare minimum. In no particular order: An unrealistic romantic comedy film. Aged whiskey. A good lay. Cake. And to be left alone.
The bonus? He got me as a prize. Real winner right there.
Fate was a backstabbing bitch. If I ever met her, I'd punch her in the face.
I have an entire arsenal of movies, books, and cartoons in my armory, and I can guarantee that not one of these assholes is half as crazy as me.”
Smartass comments, while second nature, would end in my spleen being outside my body.
There were only so many times you could be told you’re worthless before you started to believe it, right?
I just hoped he didn’t sleep in the nude. Or maybe I did hope that. I was undecided.
How to Keep a Pet Raccoon. Why? They were wild animals that shouldn’t be kept.
not only were women fickle, but trying to make her see things my way would only backfire.
Arguing with myself had its perks. I always won.
The third time . . . well. It was like Bruno. We didn’t talk about the third time.
“Oh my god, the testosterone in this room is going to kill me.
I may have loved my princess movies, but I also loved a good, dirty fuck.
It's hard for someone to intercept your plans when you really don't have plans yourself.
“Why is it that fragile male egos think the worst thing a woman can be called is a whore? Hmm? What does it matter to men who I choose to let into my bed? If my choices are between living with a group of guys or going with you, I guess you can just fuck off and call me Snow White.”
Normally, I wasn’t one for slapping. But it was a show of disrespect that I didn’t use my fist and that’s what he deserved.
Only bitches get bitch slapped
I may be tiny—and I'm not exactly anyone's first choice at dodgeball—but I don't break so easily.”
Ty continued monologuing. It would have made Hamlet proud.
