"Dance!" the captain demanded. Two

"Dance!" the captain demanded. Two

step or fox trot? she wondered. When the captain leveled his revolver at her feet, she realized it didn't

mean she was going to die, it just meant that she might be crippled if he shot her in the foot. She begged the captain

to spare her right foot, because her left foot was already a little numb--product of a botched brain surgery years ago.

She should have known the surgeon wasn't all there after noticing he got his medical license at the University of Neverland, Ohio, but she still went with him. What could she say,

She wanted to augment her breasts so badly that even this Peter Pan Dr. was

good enough for her goodies. After all, her chicken breasts were tender and a meat mallet was unnecessary. All she needed was mojo criollo in a bag.

pesto and old sneakers. It actually smells better than you'd expect, you should try it some time. Anyway, I finished showering and headed to the kitchen.

Soap bubbles popped in my ears while the draft drifting toward the oven fan drew smoke. The burning pesto crackled up my arm as I tried to turn back the fire to no avail.