Hoo, I’m hot now! Look at me. Yeah. You looking ugly, girl. Putting bread in me with your no coffee smile, morning breath and flannel jammies. What’s that in your hair? I got heating elements with better curl than that. Oh, I’m hot.
Wo, what’s that? Look out. Here I come. POP! Yeah, babe, that’s your toast on me. Don’t pick it up with those fingers. They been in your nose.
Gonna get quiet now. Yeah, babe. Cool. Chill.
“Machine-gun sentences. Fast. Intense. Mickey Spillane-style. No way around it. Paul is a top-notch writer. Top-notch.” Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy.
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