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“Oh God.” “You feel you’ve gotta pray to get through this ’fore I give you the okay to come, you do that, little girl,”
“The first seventeen years of my life, I fasted. I kept my body clean and my spirit pure. Now, I want to feast like a glutton, spread lust on my breakfast toast, shoot violence, and sip greed.
do skater boys even exist anymore? Aren’t they like so early 2000s?”
“When there is an infestation, you must not kill one rat at a time, you understand? You must take them all and to do that there is an order to things. First, you take away their food, their basic means of survival. If there is no food, the rats will panic. Then, you set the traps. Those eliminate the stupid rats, the young and the old, the women and the children, maybe. All that remains are the male rats and they are hungry, growing mad. Finally, you smoke them out and as they spill out their little rat holes you shoot them one by one until the last rat remains, the strongest rat of the bunch
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a dirty knight in his leather armor.
I’d always believed that Christianity wasn’t for everyone, that faith was a special and intimate kind of thing that had to occur to you naturally, and express itself through you organically. Now I knew what deity I’d pray to and die trying to please. Zeus Garro.
Loving our age difference only like this, between the two of us in bed where he was the big, bad experienced man and I was his eager little girl, so willing to please.
