J.R. Ward Quote
There was someone sitting in his room, over on that chair—Are you kidding me? He exhaled a curse and rubbed the back of his brain. Really? Are you fucking kidding me?Across the way, like some fucked-up scarecrow, a pair of blue jeans, that Nirvana concert T-shirt of the angel’s, the flannel bullshit, and a set of Nikes had been stuffed with God only knew what. The head of the Lassiter was made out of a nylon bag that had had potatoes in it, and the black and yellow hair was a collection of knee-high business socks—probably Butch’s—and Swiffer cleaning rags that had been safety pinned in place.Around its neck? A handwritten sign that read: the boss was here.
J.R. Ward
There was someone sitting in his room, over on that chair—Are you kidding me? He exhaled a curse and rubbed the back of his brain. Really? Are you fucking kidding me?Across the way, like some fucked-up scarecrow, a pair of blue jeans, that Nirvana concert T-shirt of the angel’s, the flannel bullshit, and a set of Nikes had been stuffed with God only knew what. The head of the Lassiter was made out of a nylon bag that had had potatoes in it, and the black and yellow hair was a collection of knee-high business socks—probably Butch’s—and Swiffer cleaning rags that had been safety pinned in place.Around its neck? A handwritten sign that read: the boss was here.