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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.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Boys
Seen
Existence
Winchester
Woman
Sammy
Even
Dean
Proves
Prove

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See you in a few. Hold down the fort, Mr. Wong!
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Rocket, I said, straightening in the chair. Donovan was just helping me with my contacts. Donovan raised his brows humorously. Rocket furrowed his. Did you swallow them?
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―You realize I can hear you without the annoying intercom. Cookie and I both leaned forward and looked at each other through the doorway. ―But this is more fun, I said. ―More Star Trekkie.
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God I loved Sammy. I’d considered marrying him, but his wife got upset when I asked for his hand.
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Pretending to drink coffee was similar to faking an orgasm.
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I like to see the glass as half full, hopefully of jack daniels.
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I totally should've gone to Hogwarts when I had the chance.
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My plans often went awry. Much like my thoughts. Hold the phones. Maybe Saan had ADD, too. It would explain a lot.
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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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The funny thing about GPS was it didn’t always send you in the right direction. I knew that if I took a right and took Twelfth instead, I’d get there faster, so I turned right. Ozzy did not approve. “Wut the foock?
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Can I brush your hair?” she asked as she led the way, her disposition doing a 180 on a dime. Kids. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t eat ’em for lunch.
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I was white. Chalk had more color than I did. And quite possibly more personality.
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There is nothing to fear but fear itself. And spiders. ~Bumper sticker~
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Having Reyes so near is painful. I think it has apoplexy. Do you even know what that means? No, but it sounds serious. Like Ebola. Or hives
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He's helped me a lot over the years. I'm sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours. I have skin allergies. I'm itchy.
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After a geological epoch passed in which single-celled organisms evolved into talk show hosts, Mr. Coffee was still holding out on me.
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You can’t have him, okay,” she said from behind the wire barrier. “Mm-hmm,” I whispered. “This is certainly a beautiful neighborhood.” “Yeah, I guess.” “I will scratch those eyes out of your ugly head.
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Ask me about my complete lack of interest. (T-shirt)
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He’d actually hit me! It didn’t matter that hitting me wasn’t really like hitting a regular girl and I’d be completely healed in a matter of hours. I was still a freaking girl, and he damned well knew it. I’d just have to hit him back. With a lead pipe. Or an eighteen-wheeler.
Darynda Jones