If I’d been less supercharged by adrenaline,

If I’d been less supercharged by adrenaline, I might have thrown up right there. Joe and Jesse stood up and began running away. After a second, Jesse glanced back and caught the

bullet in her teeth. I could smell her enamel burning. She pulled out her shotgun and started blasting. The church crowd was crumpling up in a heap of blood and torn clothing,

beckoning with the aroma of a fresh kill. Once again, she would not be eating Kosher.

It was the fourth night this month that she had gotten fresh road kill and was delighted in the prospect of sharing it with me. I however, was trying to remain Kosher but I wasn't

following it to the letter, which might make it okay if I eat what she has worked so hard to prepare. What is that wonderful smell coming out of the kitchen I asked her. Oh just

fried lamb tongue and Rocky Mountain Oysters. They will be done in about five minutes. Now go upstairs and wash up," she commanded.

we looked at each other, my sister and i, both in our wash-weary plaid shirts and worn jeans, and placing a leather-creased shoe on the stairs we began the climb to our bedroom

at the top of 18 flights of stairs. Why the Old Lady had put us at the top of the shoe, we didn't know. We did get to skip the whipping tonight and in our broth was

answers to our math homework, which, having been written in indelible ink, gave us about 15 minutes before the hot broth disintegrated the pages entirely. Old Mother Hubbard sold