The universe is a meat grinder and we're just pork in designer shoes, keeping busy so we can pretend we're not all headed for the sausage factory. Maybe I've been hallucinating this whole time and the...
It's more like how some people can't help but bring out the not necessarily righteous parts of your personality. Like how you meet someone and instantly know they're a full-time professional victim, a...
See? Even dead she makes me a better whatever-the-hell it is I am. A less stupid person. A more considerate monster.
If you ever need to confirm that a girl is worth coming back from Hell for, show her your monster arm and see what she says.
Short of flamethrowers, nukes, or a bunch of trained Drifter killers, the best strategy is nature’s simplest: run like you’re a zebra at a waterhole and a pride of lions just showed up with ketchup an...
I hate this place. You can’t get a cup of coffee unless it has a backstory and a pedigree so the café can charge you as much for the cup as a normal human pays for dinner. Women drive by in cute littl...
Marchosias
So, you’re the angel of Death? The angel shook his head, a little embarrassed. I don’t have that honor. In Heaven, I’m the celestial who bears the great golden quills, the silver Chroma, the holy vell...
Every time stupid rich people get ripped off, it makes them feel better about hating poor people.
Brooding is for chickens, as my first-grade teacher used to say. Or maybe it was Lucifer. Homily reciters all kind of run together for me.
We follow Daja to a Hellion motor home. It looks less like something your grandparents would drive to the Grand Canyon and more like a Gothic mansion on wheels—one designed by insects and decorated by...
I didn't want this high a profile, but at least now everyone knows I'm armed.
Death smiles at us all and all a man can do is smile back.
Besides, do you think you would have come if I’d just popped into your tattoo shop one night around closing andsaid, ‘Hello, I’m the Prince of Darkness. Think you could help me outwith a little war ne...
Home late. Be naked.
What’s a shvitz? he yells. Really? You’re driving up Hell’s asshole with these Grease rejects and that’s the first thing that falls out of your skull?
LOS ANGELES IS a busted jukebox in a forgotten bar at the ass end of the high desert. The city only exists between the pops, skips, and scratches of the old 45s.
I’m not a huge fan of other people’s logic.
None of the palaces in Hell come close to Lucifer's in size or beauty. Lucifer lives at the top of a literal ivory tower, miles high. You can't even see the top from the ground. The joke is that he bu...
He grabs his pistol when I thought this was a knife fight, and, well, it’s a very upsetting moment. I
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