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And Ms. Moore, besides being insanely successful, panders to a—I’m just going to say unique crowd that thinks sexual liberation means letting a demon fuck you in the asshole.
Moore smirked. “Or maybe—and I’m just riffing here—maybe he got sick of digging a fucking hole.” Sebastian smiled. “It’s a bit farfetched, but I suppose it could have happened that way.”
“They were Confederate raiders,” Sam said. “They were pieces of shit.” “Now you’re just being redundant.”
That may be the most perverse thing of all: ignoring the horror, even as it happens around you.”
“She asked me if Wainwright ever fucked me as hard as he fucked you guys tonight.” Of course. Classic Moore. “What did you say to that?” Sam asked. Kate gave a devilish grin. “I told her if he fucked y’all that hard, your egos wouldn’t be walking straight for a week.”
They’re just trolls, he reminded himself. Pathetic losers who have no lives so they try to tear you down. But it’s starting to work. He hated to admit it, but it was true.
“Because He, too, lost a child,” Pastor Charlie explained. “He sacrificed His only son so that we may be saved.” Daniel nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, his head bobbing as if it were on a spring. “That’s right. That’s right, He sacrificed His son. He made the call. He gave the okay on that one.” Daniel jammed a finger into his own chest. “But I didn’t. I didn’t have a say in my daughter’s death. I didn’t give the old green light for a car to hop the median and broadside her. He did! God did! So fuck Him!”
Daniel looked to Moore, a thought occurring to him. “You haven’t insulted me once since you guys got here.” “Sorry,” she said. “That worries me,” Daniel explained. “Anything that can take the piss out of you worries me.” He shoved away the plate of food.
