The night was cold but gentle like an X-rated metaphor. It was crowded too – with owls and fireflies and distant galaxies.

The novelty of bare rock walls instead of concrete had become old at the speed of SNL material.

The dead cannot give orders; they can only whisper.

They walked out into the first morning after the apocalypse – a day that had just barged in sweaty and unkempt like a late commuter, asking, Anything happen while I was out?

She turned to Nate, who had just stepped in, and threw the Necronomicon at him.

Flying monkeys exist in literature, Nate,” Kerri said. “Horror writers who get laid exist in literature.

Bad becomes unbearable only when contrasted to expectation;.

Kerri stopped to wonder how the information continued to flow past someone called “Deaf Anne” while Nate took over.

I did not hesitate to quit my courses and leave my apartment, feeling as detached from everything as only at twenty-three one feels, when all is temporary and settling down means to stagnate.

The radio played “Groove Is in the Heart,” which is a radio’s way of saying it couldn’t care less about the mood of a scene.