Music, unleashed, can uplift and create and destroy, stripping away pretenses and leaving raw, exposed vulnerability behind.
C.E. Murphystart with one true thing
C.E. MurphyHe fell ass over tea Kettle
C.E. MurphyI'm not a dog
C.E. MurphyStichwörter: coyote
I suppose I knew on an intellectual level that graves weren't especially made for getting out of. I mean, you start with a hermetically sealed casket and then you dump six feet of dirt on top of it. Over time the earth gets compacted, which can't make it easy to dig through. So even if you're a very angry and determined zombie, you've kind of got your work cut out for you just escaping from the grave.
Which was, I suppose, why we got hit with an initial wave of zombie bugs, birds and rodents. I bet some people would say if you've never picked undead mosquitoes out of your teeth, you've never lived. Under that definition, I'd be just as happy to have not lived, thanks.
Billy, I can’t even pick my nose without using a finger.” Sometimes my mouth should stop and consult my brain before it says anything. Billy got this wide-eyed look of admiration that belonged on a nine-year-old boy. It said, Wow, that was really gross, and, more important, How come I didn’t think of it?
My mouth consulted my brain this time, and I asked, “I don’t suppose you could just forget I said that?”
“No,” Billy said, in a tone that matched the admiration still in his eyes. “I don’t think I can. I’m going to have to tell that one to Robert.”
“Melinda will kill you.
it took Coyote a very long time indeed to show up, or that he looked distracted when he did. How a dog could look distracted, I didn’t know, but there you had it.
“I’m not,” he said for the umpteenth time, “a dog.
Find anything about the Blade?” Billy let out an explosive sigh and creaked back in his chair, hands folded behind his head.
“Comic book references. Stuff about some swordsman named Bob Anderson. Wesley Snipes pictures.”
“Really?” I perked up, edging around his desk to try to get a look at the screen. “Any half-naked ones?” “Joanie!”
I drooped. “I didn’t think so. There wasn’t nearly enough half-naked Wesley in those movies, anyway.
He can’t keep this up forever, Joanne. Stop fucking around." Did other people have little voices in their heads that said things like that?
C.E. MurphyI swear on Annie’s grave,” Gary repeated to Mel, “this ain’t my fault. They were like this when I picked ’em up at the station.
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