Hurlan's tangled heart gets tied up in more twists than a bag of pretzel sticks when he hears the international grunt of love.
One billion gods working inside three trillion universes couldn't possibly create a reality this stupid.
The history of America is a narrative concerning the triumph of white supremacy.
Death plays doorbell ditch in Doc's crotch. Hurshe answers the ding dong.
After many lonely years, Hurlan finally gets to feel the cold touch of a mommy.
A mysterious stranger shows Heartshe, the rock hard way, that humanity is a celestial continuum.
yrotanalpxe-fles (Hold mirror up to this text, then to your own face. You have just confronted collective despair.)
Destiny spelled sdrawkcab is Mee Maw.
Good things only come to those who crawl desperately into living cadavers.
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