#dumbstcr

     He rakes his fingers through her long, bleached hair, and mumbles, “You must forgive me by now. I bought you McDonalds, after all, didn’t I?”

     “No, I’m serious. I was held in captivity as a baby and spoonfed milk my entire life until I was thirteen. Only when I escaped did I learn speech.” Veruca has no problem relaying stories to strangers--but the fact of the matter is that Veruca is telling the story of Genie, the wild child. Not herself. “Isn’t that sad?”

     “Have you considered getting a mullet?” He certainly has— for her, not himself. He has too much self-respect and doesn’t like growing his hair past his ears, but she looks like she could pull it off. “Like, full-blown, four-fifths party to one-fifth business, would make Uncle Jesse cry, type of mullet? ‘Cause retro is in. Your fans would love it.”

@dumbstcr from HERE

“I lie back, just driftin’, and ... play out these SCENES,” she muses aloud as she leans back on her palms and swings a leg out casually from their perch. Then, turning to look fully at Eve, she seems to realize how silly a thing this all is to say. But there’s a thrill to being so openly GUSHY. “I ride on the rush — all the hopes, all the... the dreams!”

@dumbstcr ‘s starter

     “Sleep tight forever, motherfucker,” Saint says, and when he raises the ax, the light from the open window plays a glint over the blade.