We were going for cake with…wait for it…a six-foot snake.

Like the time JTC sent me an invitation to MaryEllen Marini’s costume party, which might have been okay if I was actually invited to her party, and it had been a costume party.

VIP?” Ellie asked. “Ha-ha-ha! I said ‘pee’!

I pictured myself falling off and getting trampled to death. Caroline would be beyond embarrassed, but I wouldn’t care because I’d be dead, and Ellie would have her fill of blood and guts until the sequel to Bloodsucking Zombies was released.

I don’t know. Let me think. Do I want pie? Am I even hungry? Oh, this is a hard decision. Maybe I should call the DUH, YES, I LOVE PIE ASSOCIATION.

The boat floated down the indoor river toward fog and screams. It got darker, and Ellie said, “I think I just tinkled.” Gordo, who was sitting next to her, said, “No, baby doll. I think that was me.

Quel Dommage!” That was “bummer” in French, or maybe “too bad,” or “scrambled eggs.

When she backed up the Petmobile it made a Beep! Beep! Beep! that attracted even more attention than the average minivan dressed like a cat–dog.

You can climb out of your designer bag now. I’ve never actually seen someone try to fit inside a handbag. You gave it a good go. Let me try.