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The dead guy looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t move my legs.” I snorted. “You can’t move your arms either, or your feet or your freaking eyelids. You’re dead.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Eyes
Legs
Guy
Wide
Eye
Looked
Moving
Arms
Move
Dead
Snorted
Feet
Freaking
Either
Eyelids

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It’s all fun and games until someone loses a testicle. —T-SHIRT
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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.
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In Cookie's defense, it was raining wildcats and rabid dogs.
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She still wasn't convinced. So, if you were a guy, would you be into me? Hon, if I were a guy, I'd be gay. Yeah, me, too.
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A sheriff arrested me. I could be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure my men-in-uniform fetish began that day. The sheriff was hot. And he handcuffed me. I've never been the same.
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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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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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How would you like your eggs? I tried. I really did. But I glanced at his crotch and it came out anyway. Fertilized?
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I lowered the gun but didn’t holster it. Not just yet. She could turn out to be psychotic. Or a door-to-door salesperson.
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Okay, I’ll put someone on it. But you know, the Albuquerque Police Department wasn’t really created to find things out for you.” “Really? That’s weird.
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I noticed you tore down Donovan's house. He lifted his gaze until it locked with mine. He's alive because he left town. His house chose to stay. It paid the price.
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I can hear other things, too. Before you came around, I had no idea a man could make a girl scream like that. Reyes seems very talented.
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Okay, I'll strip. I'll tap dance. I'll sing 'La Cucaracha' in C minor.
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Who is Dr. A. von Holstein? And is he related, by chance, to a race of cows?
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You’re the reason I breathe
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.. an emergency stash of Thin Mints. Frickin' Girl Scouts. Those things were way to addictive. They had to be laced with crack. Charlie Davidson Fourth Grave Beneath my Feet
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That you honestly believe I am capable of hurting innocent people for no reason.” “You’re not?” I asked, hope softening my voice. “Oh, no, I’m more than capable. I just didn’t realize you knew that.
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Just in case, though, I stormed into my apartment, tossed a quick hello to Mr. Wong, then rummaged through my entertainment center to lay out all my exorcism equipment. I kept it in my entertainment center because exorcisms were nothing if not entertaining.
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Still, this whole grim reaper thing should have come with a manual. Or a diagram of some kind. A flowchart would have been nice.
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I may not have any skeletons in my closet, but I do have a little box of souls in my sock drawer. —T-SHIRT
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