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“Oh, thank the gods below,” he said, putting down the pint glass. “My people aren’t completely lost.”
A battered couch that was once orange hunches against the wall to our left, hoping we won’t notice it,
an image that I file under Things I Never Would Have Seen If I Had Kept Bartending.
think life is like a ham bone if you live it right. You enjoy it and then you bury it when you’re finished. If
“Unlike most American voters, I have built up an immunity to rhyming slogans.”
put the tank in cantankerous.
Dr. Jodursson’s hair tells me he isn’t looking for a lasting relationship. It’s flashy and indicates that he might belong to a tribe of modern men that Siodhachan told me about called the Douchebags.
It’s our duty to remember the dead. And our duty to let them go.”
Filthy godses are tricksy, Precious.
We shape our purposes to make ourselves worthy and often do not see until much later how it was love—or perhaps the lack of it—that both picked us up and dropped us off at crossroads.
Whoever said that dead men tell no tales never spent Samhain with Druids.
We cannot blink it more.”
Three gods, two Druids, and a selkie walk into a bar…
I’d try the peaceful route and see what happened—and if it was the worst idea ever, why, we had made a good run of it.
I can tell already that his reaction will not result in any personal growth.
