*pinches Norman's cheek*
Dang, this mallet is slippery. Werewolf blood is active stuff--not like plain old human blood.
I lurves hands-on research.
It warms my heart to know that my pain and suffering can bering such joy.
um... the mailman?
I get cookies in the mail. Whatever sympathy I might have had for you just vanished.
Well... yes, I did.
I mean, there's a certain fantasy level involved at being at the tender mercies of a former nun... but this is lily.
She's just scary.
I can oblige with some nasty tissue...I'm battling the flu. I feel like spreading the wealth to a *deserving* recipient. *evil grin*
Oh, boston? Can you come help me with these 2 by 4s? They're awfully heavy. *bats eyes*
Now you listen to me, I'm an advertising man, not a red herring. I've got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don't intend to disappoint them all by getting myself "slightly" killed.
I'm getting some expert Purgatory opinions on whether the horror can be morphed into YA. (I'll pause while everyone's jaw drops.)