“Pansy, did you see what that meathead did?”
“No, Gracie, what?”
“He locked himself outside.”
“Again?”
“Yup?”
“Should we rescue his hairless butt and open the door?”
“That depends. Is there any bacon left?”
“Yup. On the counter.”
“Sorry, meathead.”
Let the phone tell the truth when your mouth can’t.
“Wake up, you idiot.
Billie winced as she tiptoed across the sun-baked deck with two cold wobbly-pops in hand.
The Allfather’s daughter, shame of Asgard, fled the Great Hall and made her way through the wood to the cliff-side.
