Confused, I Asked, "the Coven's What?" "plumber,"

Music Moves Society More Than Most People Realize. In My Opinion, It's A Soft Manipulator Of Influence And Change.

God, It Stinks,” I Said, Hand Over My Nose As He Pulled Me Into A Long Step. Al Strode Forward, Head High. “it’s The Stench Of Bureaucracy, My Itchy-witch, And Why I Chose To Go Into Human Resources When But A Wee Lad.

Of Course I’m Shielding Her, You Broken Feather!

This Is About Ku’sox, Isn’t It,” I Said, More Of A Statement Than A Question. He Made A Sighing Groan, And I Knew It Was. “then You’ve Met,” He Said, His Thoughts Clearly On The Day-walking Demon. “funny, You Don’t Look Dead.” His Hand Touched My Chin, Shifting It So He Could See Where I’d Been Pixed, The Blisters Itchy And Red. “i’m Surprised You Survived The Little Designer Dump. I Nearly Didn’t.

Hapa Was Like Mint. You Could Rip It Up, And Six Months Later, It Was Back, Healthier Than Ever. Mint Smelled Better, Though, And You Could Make Juleps Out Of It. I Don’t Know What I Could Make Out Of Hapa. Compost, Maybe.