Rule Number Two, Monsignor. Do not show pity.
Gretchen McNeilMots clés religion pity demons possess
I thought you'd be better at this."
"Why?"
Bridget shrugged. "'Cause your dad's a cop."
"Right," Matt said, shifting his body so he wasn't blocking the light. "Why wouldn't he teach me Breaking and Entering 101?"
Bridget stifled a yawn. "Might be helpful now."
"Patience, grasshopper." Matt inserted a second metal prong into the lock. "I know a few tricks."
Bridget heard a soft click, and Matt raised his eyebrows in an unspoken "I told you so" before twisting the handle. The door swung open.
"Slick, MacGyver," Bridget whispered, patting him on the head. "Remind me to give you a cookie.
Mots clés humor
Everybody was sorry. Sorry was easy. Sorry was for suckers.
Gretchen McNeilMots clés life easy people regret sorry suckers
She felt like a baton getting passed along in a relay race, completely devoid of any control over her destiny.
Gretchen McNeilMots clés life control destiny
Someone tells me I’ve been touched by Jesus, I remember.”
“Not Jesus,” he said in all seriousness. “The hand of God.
As expected, the church lady grumbled something incoherent and put Bridget’s call on hold. A peppy rendition of “City of God” blared as hold music just long enough for Bridget to start to sing along with the chorus. Catholic brainwashing at its best.
Gretchen McNeilMots clés religion catholicism snark city-of-god
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