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Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Surely
Insane
Sake
Wouldn
Hurt
Guy
Stalker
Heaven
Asylum
Living
Asylums

More quotes by Darynda Jones

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Come here often?' I asked instead, humoring no one but myself. So it was totally worth it.
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I was just passing by. Saw the commotion. Figured you were involved.
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Have they even seen the Winchester boys? Sammy and Dean's existence proves there is a god and she is a woman.
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When fighting clowns, always go for the juggler.
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My real mom died when I was born—hemorrhaged to death while giving birth to me, which has never been one of my favorite memories—and Dad married Denise before I’d turned a year. Without even asking my opinion on the matter. Denise and I never really clicked.
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I climbed into Misery and called Uncle Bob. “We hooking up?” “Why does everything out of your mouth make me sound incestuous?” “Um, I wasn’t aware that it did. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience.” “Charley.” “Is there something you need to get off your chest? Besides that skank I saw you with the other day?
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I meant to behave. There were just too many other options.--T-SHIRT
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She blinked at me, then realized I was panicking. Honestly, it was like admitting to murder before being interrogated. “Ms. Davidson,” she began, but I decided to trip her up, to throw her off the trail of blood I’d left like an injured animal. “I don’t speak English.
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I'd never taken to four foot creatures who had the uncanny ability to point out all my flaws in thirty second flat. And just for the record, I can too read without moving my lips.
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He seemed determines, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possible Milk Duds.
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Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick.
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This place is like crazy on crackers.
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I’m Charlotte Davidson: private investigator, police consultant, all -around badass. Or I could’ve been a badass, had I stuck with those lessons in mixed martial arts. I was only in that class to learn how to kill people with paper.
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Paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all the paper. And the work.
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Dead people I could handle. They were usually beyond hysteria. This was the people-left behind part. The hard part.
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Apparently, this really was Kill Charley Davidson Week. Or at least Horribly Maim Her.... It would probably never get government recognition, though, destined to be underappreciated like Halloween or Thesaurus Day.
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I shifted in my chair as Dad waited for a response. He seemed determined, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possibly Milk Duds. “Are you psychotic?” I asked, realizing my plan to charm and bribe him if need be flew out the window the minute I opened my mouth.
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What's your specialty? Oh, you know. Madness. Mayhem. Debauchery. And even with all that going for me, I can still make a mean mojito.
Darynda Jones
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Who knew that all this time the nectar of the Gods was in my va-jay-jay.
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I knew dating the son of Satan would turn out badly
Darynda Jones