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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave It must be horny douchebag day,” she mumbled under her breath as she slid the bag’s strap up on her shoulder. - Quote by Dennis Sharpe

It must be horny douchebag day,” she mumbled under her breath as she slid the bag’s strap up on her shoulder.

Dennis Sharpe
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See, I can talk to the pretty man like a real grown up if I try hard enough.
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Like all men who look this good, Frank has no interest in women.
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We can go somewhere more private if you’d like… Buck” I whisper softly in his ear, pulling back almost as slowly as the wicked grin spreads across my face. His perverse smile hides nothing. I have him now, hook, line and zipper.
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Standing in front of him I wipe his liquid from the corner of my mouth and stare deeply. I can see the panic in his eyes. I can smell his fear, deep, rich and growing, and for the first time tonight I’m actually aroused.
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You have two choices, sweetheart. Answer my questions, or get a monster new facial piercing.
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You know where I’m going to be, and you’ll know where I’ve been every step of my way to get there. You’ve made a hobby out of taking things away from me… a lot of them I never even knew to miss, but I know now. I know what you just took, and there’s no way you’re taking anything else from me. It’s time for me to start taking from you,” Wednesday said with a confidence in her voice that even she noticed and was proud to hear.“I thought you said you weren’t running from me anymore,” Klein said with a laugh in his voice.Her face was red, and she felt like she was on fire. She managed, summoning all her will, to keep herself from screaming and instead, keep an even and icy voice. “I’m not, you piece of shit. Now, I’m running at you.
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Inching into the room, it’s clear something is wrong here. There’s a tingling sensation up my legs and back before I can even really focus on the parlor’s details. There are silhouettes of people, but I can see through them. It’s like shadows were cast and left behind to do as they please. Lost in the surreal sight of them for a moment, I inch further into the room without noticing that some were now moving behind me.There is no warning. I’m suddenly in the air, and moving backward rapidly toward the wall. It’s almost a full second before my body registers the actual pain of the blow my stomach just took. Being hit by a car doesn't even compare to this, and I didn't even see it coming.“For a shadow, you hit like a sledgehammer!” The words barely escape before something else slams into the base of my skull embedding most of my upper body in the wall and all but removing my head. These things are like Lucy; the disembodied dead who haven’t moved on. I've never met others that can actually touch things physically, they must be fairly potent.I pull my face out of the hole it had been planted in, letting plaster dust fall, coating my chest and legs like snow. Looking around quickly I try to gauge my surroundings. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. Is one easy night, without a huge dry-cleaning bill, too much to ask for these days?I only have time to dwell on it a moment before my head is bouncing off the hardwood floor; once, twice, and then a third time in quick succession. Now ‘pick splinters out of my forehead’ can be added to my Saturday night to-do list. Damn it, this is not going as planned.
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Pretending to care what men think is an art. It takes moments to learn, but lifetimes to master. I’d like to believe I’m an expert.
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