...how crazy things have to get before I ended up drooling all over a strait jacket with my name on it at Happyville Manor.
Do you feel it? That roaring call?
Writers are alphabet artists. The blank page becomes their canvas as they paint pictures with words.
You cannot give up. We are Gargoyle, and we are strong.
I'm already inside your head. And your body's most definitely next.
I love you. Forever, and a day.
Where Destiny sets its path,Fate shall follow...:
What good is it to be rich if we canna scrape up the scratch to buy a political prisoner on a whim?