My Mother Isn't Crazy. She Simply Has

Married Pixy, I Told Myself, Forcing My Eyes Back To The Shelf Of Ceramic Animals. Fifty-four Kids. Beautiful Wife, Sweet As Sugar, Who Would Kill Me In My Sleep While Apologizing For It.

Jenks Kept Me Alive For Two Years Through Two Death Threats, A Crazy Banshee, And At Least Two Serial Killers. Its About Time I Return The Favor! And If I Can't, Then I Can Sit By His Bed And Hold His Hand As He Dies, 'cause I've Had Plenty Of Practice Doing That, Too!

I Opine-i Think You're A Woman Of Your World,' He Said From The Far End Of The Couch. 'i Would Have A Hard Time Seeing You Pressed And Powdered, Dreading A Life Of Servitude Under The Name Of Marriage. You'd Die In That Mold. I Like You As You Are, Fiery And Ill Tempered.

Her Elf Is Going To Do Just That,” He Said, The Red Glow Of The Ever-after Sun Turning His Hair Auburn, Almost As Red As Mine. “i Did Not Work This Hard At Getting Her To Accept Who She Is To Let You Take Your Spoiled Brat Of A Little-boy Temper Tantrum Out On Her. She Stays On My Side Of The Lines.

I Didn’t Mean Now,” He Protested. “i’m Not Going To Raise The Child. I’m Having Enough Trouble With Rachel.