As The Joke Goes, You Don’t Have

I Have A Name,” I Grumped, My Stomach Pinching Me Harder. “yes, But It Has No Pizzazz. Ra-a-a-a-chel. Rach-e-e-e-eel,” He Said, Trying It Out In Different Ways. “no One Will Tremble In Terror At That. Oh My God!” He Said In A High Falsetto. “it’s Rachel! Run! Hide!

The Mistakes Don't Matter. It's What You Do When You Mess Up That Does.

It Was A Nice Bit Of Blackmail That Kept Him Off My Back, But He Refused To Take The Message That I Wasn’t Going To Work For Him. ’course, That Might Be My Fault…since I Seemed Unable To Say No When He Waved Enough Money At Me.

Shut Up," I Hissed. Ticked That He Was Taller Than Me, I Stepped Up Onto A Nearby Coffee Table. "i'm Not In A Cage Anymore," I Said, Keeping Enough Presence Of Mind Not To Poke Him In The Chest With A Finger. His Face Went Startled, Then Cloric. "the Only Thing Between Your Head And My Foot Becoming Real Close And Personal Right Now Is My Questionable Professionalism. And If You Ever Threaten Me Again, I'll Slam You Halfway Across The Room Before You Can Say Number-two Pencil. Got It, You Tall Freak Of Nature?

I Won’t Snatch, Harm, Or Scare To Death People With You Or Use Checking Up On You As An Excuse To Cause Trouble. You’re Worse Than My Mother, Rachel.” “mine, Too,” Jenks Muttered.