I stared. "Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?

It's Dana! She's back early." He ran his hand frantically over Mitch's neat, blonde hair. "What's she want? What's she doing here?
"Maybe she wants Reese's pot back"
"This is my chance! She's here alone. She wants me. Quick." He yanks my arm and dragged me to the stairs. I cried out in suprise.
"Get out of sight. Throw that away."
"I'm not throwing this away! Besides, you don't think she'll notice that your whole fucking house smells like this? Jesus. Your pupils are the size of her granny panties. Virtuous or not, she isn't stupid.

What were good and evil, really, but stupid categories? Stupid categories
that restricted people and punished or rewarded them based on how they responded to their own natures, natures they really didn't have any way to control.

We all have moments of weakness. It’s how we recover from them that really counts.

It's a Christmas miracle. I had no tree. Now I have a forest.

Things on the essential list: vodka, Nine Inch Nails, a steady supply of mortal men, and an all-purpose bitchy attitude.