Panda Eyes Quotes

So, Grace, how's school?" I asked myself. Dad nodded, eyes on the baby koala now struggling in the guest's arms. "Oh, it's fine," I continued, and Dad made a mumbling noise of agreement. I added, "Nothing special, aside from the load of pandas they brought in, and the teachers abandoning us to cannibalistic savages-" I paused to see if I'd caught his attention yet, then pressed on. "The whole building caught fire, then I failed drama, and then sex, sex, sex." Dad's eyes abruptly focused, and he turned to me and frowned. "What did you say they were teaching you in school?

I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.

At least she hadn’t bothered to put any mascara on this morning; otherwise, she would certainly have serious panda eyes and look even more frightful.

I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn’t afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I’d never see. I wanted the whole world to hit bottom. I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn’t screw to save its species and every whale and dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground. I wanted to burn the Louvre. I’d do the Elgin Marbles with a sledge-hammer and wipe my ass with the Mona Lisa. This is my world, now.

What Tyler says about the crap and the slaves of history, that's how I felt. I wanted to destroy something beautiful I'd never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn't afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted the whole world to hit bottom. Pounding that kid, I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground

A panda walks into a bar. He asks the bartender how he can get a little action for the night. The bartender motions to a young woman. She talks to the panda, and they go back to her place. After having sex, the panda abruptly leaves. The next night, the woman goes to the panda's house. "You owe me money," she says. "For what?" The woman rolls her eyes and explains, "I'm a prostitute." The panda pulls out a dictionary and looks it up: "Prostitute: Has sex for money." The panda says, "I don't have to pay you. I'm a panda. Look it up." She is about to protest when the panda hands her the dictionary. The woman looks up "panda" in the dictionary, and it reads, "Panda: Eats bush and leaves.

Pounding that kid, I really wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every endangered panda that wouldn't screw to save its species and every whale or dolphin that gave up and ran itself aground.

Keisha Blake, whose celebrated will and focus did not leave her much room for angst, watched her friend ascend to the top deck in her new panda-eyed makeup and had a mauvais quart d'heure, wondering whether she herself had any personality at all or was in truth only the accumulation and reflection of all the things she had read in books and seen on television.

...nothing is black and white except for mathematics and pandas.

A panda walks into a bar. He asks the bartender how he can get a little action for the night. The bartender motions to a young woman. She talks to the panda, and they go back to her place. After having sex, the panda abruptly leaves. The next night, the woman goes to the panda's house. "You owe me money," she says. "For what?" The woman rolls her eyes and explains, "I'm a prostitute." The panda pulls out a dictionary and looks it up: "Prostitute: Has sex for money." The panda says, "I don't have to pay you. I'm a panda. Look it up." She is about to protest when the panda hands her the dictionary. The woman looks up "panda" in the dictionary, and it reads, "Panda: Eats bush and leaves. ♦◊♦◊♦◊♦

No matter what ever happens in your life...always keep your eyes on the prize, It will help get you through every storm,

when i go outside i try to mentally will the world to 'missed connect' me. i make subtle eye contact with people and think 'you need to craigslist me, you need to craigslist me, you need to craigslist me' at them very hard

The Whole World Knows By Now...That Tibet is Burning. Even If We All Turn Our Eyes Blind To It...The Fact Still Remains The Same...That Tibet Is Being Destroyed! Humanity In Unity, Must Now Step Up To The Plate And SAVE Tibet!

I'll fix things up with George soon as she gets here," Anthony mumbled. "You may depend upon it." "Oh,I know you will, but you'll have to hie yourself back to London to do so, since she ain't coming here. Didn't want to inflict her dour mood on the festivities, so decided it ould be best to absent herself." Anthony looked appalled now and complained, "You didn't say she was that mad." "Didn't I? Think you're wearing that black eye just because she's a mite annoyed?" "That will do," Jason said sternly. "This entire situation is intolerable.And frankly, I find it beyond amazing that you have both utterly lost your finesse in dealing ith women since you married." That,of course, hit quite below the belt where these two ex[rakes were concerned. "Ouch," James muttered, then in his own defense, "American women are an exception to any known rule, and bloody stubbron besides." "So are Scots,for that matter," Anthony added. "They just don't behave like normal Enlgishwomen,Jason,indeed they don't." "Regardless.You know my feelings on the entire family gathering here for Christmas.This is not the time for anyone in the family to be harboring any ill will of any sort.You both should have patched this up before the holidays began. See that you do so immediately, if you both have to return to London to do so." Having said his peace, Jason headed for the door to leave his brothers to mull over their conduct,or rather, misconduct, but added before he left, "You both look like bloody panda bears.D'you have any idea what kind of example that sets for the children?" "Panda bears indeed," Anthony snorted as soon as the door closed. James looked up to reply drolly, "Least the roof is still intact.

Sometimes we'd sit on that bench for hours, talking about nothing much and blowing smoke rings into the air, and we'd see them teetering past, stumble-drunk after closing time with their brown paper bags and late night vinegar running down their arms and the lack of kindness everywhere. And the girls, panda-eyed and lonely, hitching their bravado to their short skirts, were telling themselves that this was living. We said we would never be them. But there was one boy who had kind eyes. His hair was the colour of the sand and his smile promised everything. I told you he wasn't like the rest, but you didn't want to hear it.

During homeroom, before first period, I start a bucket list in one of my notebooks. First on the list? 1) Eat in the cafeteria. Sit with people. TALK TO THEM. 2) And…that’s all I can come up with for now. But this is good. One task to work on. No distractions. I can do this. When my lunch period rolls around, I forgo the safety of my bag lunch and the computer lab and slip into the pizza line, wielding my very own tray of semi-edible fare for the first time in years. “A truly remarkable sight.” Jensen cuts into line beside me, sliding his tray next to mine on the ledge in front of us. He lifts his hands and frames me with his fingers, like he’s shooting a movie. “In search of food, the elusive creature emerges from her den and tries her luck at the watering hole." I shake my head, smiling, moving down the line. “Wow, Peters. I never knew you were such a huge Animal Planet fan.” “I’m a fan of all things nature. Birds. Bees. The like.” He grabs two pudding cups and drops one on my tray. “Pandas?” I say. “How did you know? The panda is my spirit animal.” “Oh, good, because Gran has this great pattern for an embroidered panda cardigan. It would look amazing on you.” “Um, yeah, I know. It was on my Christmas list, but Santa totally stiffed me." I laugh as I grab a carton of milk. So does he. He leans in closer. “Come sit with me.” “At the jock table? Are you kidding?” I hand the cashier my lunch card. Jensen squints his eyes in the direction of his friends. “We’re skinny-ass basketball players, Wayfare. We don’t really scream jock.” “Meatheads, then?” “I believe the correct term is Athletic Types.” We step out from the line and scan the room. “So where were you planning on sitting?" “I was thinking Grady and Marco were my safest bet.” “The nerd table?” I gesture to myself, especially my glasses. “I figure my natural camouflage will help me blend, yo.” He laughs, his honey-blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “And hey,” I say, nudging him with my elbow, “last I heard, Peters was cool with nerdy.” He claps me gently on the back. “Good luck, Wayfare. I’m pulling for ya.

Pixie lay in a basket by the fire where a dozen brown and white puppies wriggled around her.  She had surprised us by getting pregnant very soon after moving back in with us, and the puppies were just under four-weeks-old now. We couldn’t have been more thrilled, and Bandit couldn’t have been a better dad.  He seemed to have endless patience as they climbed all over him, these wriggling furballs of energy.  Literally everything excited them.   Sully kneeled down beside me to pet the nearest pup, one with a big brown patch over one eye and a butt that never quit shaking.   “Have you got names for them yet?”  I pointed at the one in his hand while Bandit said.  “That’s Patch” “Because of his eye, obviously,” I filled in. Hearing the name, Patch suddenly squirmed out of his hands and bolted for Bandit, but his little paws couldn’t quite get purchase on the new floor and he skidded all the way to Bandit who he bumped into, coming to a sudden stop.  Shaking his head, he looked up at Bandit with intelligent eyes, then sat, waiting for further instructions.  Sully and I shared a look.   They were too young to know their names or much more than that, but it definitely seemed that Patch had known his name and was now waiting for Bandit to begin a game or something.  I pointed at a different puppy, one with a white shape on his rump.   “That one’s Star.” Bandit said. The minute the iPad said his name, Star’s head shot up, then he too bounded over to sit beside his brother.  Sully’s mouth fell open.  “No way…. They’re too young to behave like this.” Feeling a wave of excitement, I watched as Bandit finished calling his kids.   “Panda, Ace, Champ…” As he called their names, each puppy jumped to attention, coming to sit in a neat row in front of Bandit until all twelve of them were in a line in front of him.   I snapped a look at Bandit.  “Did you know about this? Did you know they were super smart too?”  He snorted out of his nose, laughing at our shock.  Sully and I looked at each other, the same startled expression in our eyes. “But…” was all Sully could say.  I at least managed two whole words before the full ramifications of an entire household of super smart dogs could hit me. “Oh boy.

I DON'T WANT to talk about me, of course, but it seems as though far too much attention has been lavished on you lately-that your greed and vanities and quest for self-fulfillment have been catered to far too much. You just want and want and want. You believe in yourself excessively. You don't believe in Nature anymore. It's too isolated from you. You've abstracted it. It's so messy and damaged and sad. Your eyes glaze as you travel life's highway past all the crushed animals and the Big Gulp cups. You don't even take pleasure in looking at nature photographs these days. Oh, they can be just as pretty as always, but don't they make you feel increasingly ... anxious? Filled with more trepidation than peace? So what's the point? You see the picture of the baby condor or the panda munching on a bamboo shoot, and your heart just sinks, doesn't it? A picture of a poor old sea turtle with barnacles on her back, all ancient and exhausted, depositing her five gallons of doomed eggs in the sand hardly fills you with joy, because you realize, quite rightly, that just outside the frame falls the shadow of the condo. What's cropped from the shot of ocean waves crashing on a pristine shore is the plastics plant, and just beyond the dunes lies a parking lot. Hidden from immediate view in the butterfly-bright meadow, in the dusky thicket, in the oak and holly wood, are the surveyors' stakes, for someone wants to build a mall exactly there-some gas stations and supermarkets, some pizza and video shops, a health club, maybe a bulimia treatment center. Those lovely pictures of leopards and herons and wild rivers-well, you just know they're going to be accompanied by a text that will serve only to bring you down. You don't want to think about it! It's all so uncool. And you don't want to feel guilty either. Guilt is uncool. Regret maybe you'll consider. Maybe. Regret is a possibility, but don't push me, you say. Nature photographs have become something of a problem, along with almost everything else. Even though they leave the bad stuff out-maybe because you know they're leaving all the bad stuff out-such pictures are making you increasingly aware that you're a little too late for Nature. Do you feel that? Twenty years too late? Maybe only ten? Not way too late, just a little too late? Well, it appears that you are. And since you are, you've decided you're just not going to attend this particular party.

Will he be back?” “Buck or the bear?” Her lips quirked. “The bear.” “Not today. Hopefully, never.” “Was it a grizzly?” “Black bear.” “It must have been a grizzly. It wasn’t black--it was brown.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe her. “Black bears come in lots of different colors. Grizzlies are a whole different species. You have to learn which is which and you have to react to each of them differently.” “I don’t know what you mean.” “I mean you have to be aggressive with black bears. With grizzlies, the best thing to do is lie down, pull yourself into a protective ball, and play dead. The bear might maul you a little, but at least you won’t be killed…not usually, at any rate.” She sagged back against the trunk of the pine tree, her face pale again. “That’s comforting.” Call sighed in exasperation. “Dammit, Charity, don’t you know anything about living out here?” “Obviously not as much as I should.” “I can’t imagine what a woman like you is doing up here by herself in the first place. You did come on your own? No husband, no boyfriend, right?” She straightened, beginning to get annoyed. “I don’t need a husband to do something I’ve always wanted to do. Maybe I should have learned more about the animals around here and less about the history of the area, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have come.” “This is hard country. Bad things happen up here. Unless you’ve been wearing blinders, by now you’re beginning to see that. Why don’t you accept my offer, sell this place, and go home where you belong?” Home where you belong. They were fighting words to Charity, right along with be a good little girl. Her lips tightened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to sell out and go home. Then you could have your precious privacy back. You wouldn’t have to worry about someone making noise when they worked next door. You wouldn’t have to worry about saving some greenhorn from a bear. You wouldn’t have to think about--” She gasped as he took a threatening step toward her, his eyes snapping as he backed her up against the trunk of the tree. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have to worry about what mischief you might get into next. And whenever I saw you, I wouldn’t have to think about what it might be like to kiss that sassy mouth of yours. I wouldn’t have to drive myself crazy wondering what it would feel like to reach under that silly panda sweatshirt and cup your breasts, to put my mouth there and find out how they taste.

This is hard country. Bad things happen up here. Unless you’ve been wearing blinders, by now you’re beginning to see that. Why don’t you accept my offer, sell this place, and go home where you belong?” Home where you belong. They were fighting words to Charity, right along with be a good little girl. Her lips tightened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to sell out and go home. Then you could have your precious privacy back. You wouldn’t have to worry about someone making noise when they worked next door. You wouldn’t have to worry about saving some greenhorn from a bear. You wouldn’t have to think about--” She gasped as he took a threatening step toward her, his eyes snapping as he backed her up against the trunk of the tree. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have to worry about what mischief you might get into next. And whenever I saw you, I wouldn’t have to think about what it might be like to kiss that sassy mouth of yours. I wouldn’t have to drive myself crazy wondering what it would feel like to reach under that silly panda sweatshirt and cup your breasts, to put my mouth there and find out how they taste.” She made a little sound in her throat the instant before his mouth crushed down over hers. Hard lips, fierce and hot as a brand, molded with hers, then began to soften. He started to taste her, to sample instead of demand. Lean, tanned hands framed her face, titled her head back so he could deepen the kiss and she felt the rough shadow of beard along his jaw. Her mouth parted on a moan and his tongue slid inside. It felt slick and hot as it tangled with hers, and ragged need tore through her. Oh, dear God! Heat overwhelmed her and she started to tremble. Her hands came up to his shoulders, clung for a moment, then slid up around his neck. She heard Call groan. He pressed himself more solidly against her, forcing her into the bark of the tree. She could feel his arousal, a big, hard ridge straining beneath the fly of his jeans. His hands found her bottom and he lifted her a little, fit his heavy erection into the soft vee between her legs. An ache started there. She inhaled his scent, like piney woods and smoke, and he tasted all male. He kissed the way a woman dreamed a man should kiss, drinking her in, making her legs turn to butter. As if he would rather have the taste of her mouth than his next breath of air. She tilted her head back and he kissed the side of her neck, trailed hot, wet kisses to the base of her throat, then took her mouth again. Their tongues fenced, mated in perfect rhythm. Their mouths seemed designed to fit exactly together. The kiss went on and on, till her brain felt mushy and she could barely think. Tell him to stop, a voice inside her said, but all she could think was that Jeremy had never kissed her like this. He had never made her feel like this--not once in the two years they had been together. No one had ever made her feel like this. And she didn’t want the moment to end.

At that moment a short, broad figure emerged from the house, looking absurdly like a giant panda dressed in a butler's black suit with a white shirt and black tie. Its round panda face had a spotlight for a nose, two eye lenses, large ears, and a speaker for a mouth.

I'm just another sinner in need of his God & Savior, everyday in his life. All sin is wrong and unrighteousness in the perfect & holy eyes of God.

Even when I'm old and my eyes, hands and legs fail me...please give me the strength Lord, to let my heart, mind and lips worship and praise you for all your goodness!

Life Is As Good As You See It...So Open Up Those Eyes And Enjoy The View!

Keep your head up, your eyes forward & your heart open. Great things are coming to you ahead on the roads of your life.

Five breaths held. Five sets of eyes locked onto the vistaport as gloaming surrendered to absolute black. One red panda tucked his nose into his tail, for sounder sleep.

Disappointment Panda. He’d wear a cheesy eye mask and a shirt (with a giant capital T on it) that was way too small for his big panda belly, and his superpower would be to tell people harsh truths about themselves that they needed to hear but didn’t want to accept. He would go door-to-door like a Bible salesman and ring doorbells and say things like, “Sure, making a lot of money makes you feel good, but it won’t make your kids love you,” or “If you have to ask yourself if you trust your wife, then you probably don’t,” or “What you consider ‘friendship’ is really just your constant attempts to impress people.” Then he’d tell the homeowner to have a nice day and saunter on down to the next house. It would be awesome. And sick. And sad. And uplifting. And necessary. After all, the greatest truths in life are usually the most unpleasant to hear. Disappointment Panda would be the hero that none of us would want but all of us would need.

Later in the day, Holly frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “This can’t be right!” Holly muttered to herself. She looked like a cross between a panda bear and a raccoon. She had tried to apply a more advanced version of makeup than she was used to, and it was not going well. “Smokey eye, my foot! I look like I have two black eyes.” She had not done the proper shading with her eye shadow, and now her large green eyes were encased with a deep black color that spanned her entire eyelid. “Maybe I should try a different one,” Holly mused aloud. She sat in William’s bedroom at his dresser. She already had on her pretty crushed velvet black dress and a small heart-shaped diamond pendant. It had been William’s birthday gift to her last year. “Let me re-read this article again to see if I can make sense of these instructions.” Holly read her magazine article out loud. “Which Greek Goddess are you? Athena, Venus, or Aphrodite? Check out our makeup tips below to turn heads at your next event!” “Hmmmm, that sounds soooooo good, if only I was better at applying makeup.” She had decided to try their Aphrodite look and had been trying to apply the eyeliner to give her a smoky eye effect. Holly had to wash her face four times already and start over because each time was worse than the last. “Concentrate, Holly, or you’ll be late for the gala. This is your last chance; it’s do or die time!” she warned her reflection in the mirror. “So, it says to put the light grey eyeshadow on the inner one-third of my eyelids. Hmmm, maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know where the inner third is.” She got an idea and went to William’s desk. Looking around, she found a ruler. “Ah-ha! Eureka, I got it!” She went back to her position at his dresser and closed her eyes for a quick, small prayer, then held the ruler up to measure her eye. “Ah-ha! Twenty-one millimeters. So, that means the inner one-third of my eye must be from my nose out seven millimeters . . . right about HERE!” Holly expertly applied the light grey eye shadow to the inner third of her eyelids. “What a big improvement already! Wow! I’m not a panda bear anymore! Ok, one-third down, two-thirds to go . . . I can do this!” Reading further, she said, “Ok, now apply the dark grey eye shadow to the next third of your eye, finishing with the dark brown eye shadow on the outer third of your eyelid.” Holly expertly followed the instructions and sat back in her chair, stunned. She looked beautiful! She had achieved the desired effect, and now her green eyes were enhanced to perfection. “Wow, wow, wow!” Holly felt encouraged to keep going. She read the next instructions. “‘Now, apply blush to your face with an emphasis on contouring your cheekbones.’” “‘Contouring my cheekbones? Who do they think I am, Rembrandt?” Holly said with a groan. Holly gingerly picked up her blush container as if it were about to bite her. She decided another quick prayer wouldn’t go amiss. With a deep breath she muttered, “Ok, I’m going in!” She glanced nervously at the picture in the magazine and tried her hardest to follow it along her cheekbones. “That turned out pretty good!” Holly turned her face this way and that, examining it. It may not have been exactly as in the picture, but the blush now accentuated her beautiful high cheekbones. “Whew! Only the lip left, thank goodness! You got this, Holly!” She encouraged her reflection in the mirror.

Hawke nodded. “She’s right. It’s a useful attack and I prefer to use it out here in the wilds.” He looked at Ridge’s axe. “Why are you using a wooden axe?” Ridge held up the axe. “Because I broke my sword on the frog.” Hawke sighed. “No. I mean, why wood?” Ridge shrugged and Hawke rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he turned to Ellie, “do you have something you’d like to tell me?” Ellie stammered. “Oh! Uh . . . I, uh . . .” Hawke pointed at the fox. “Copper isn’t just a darker fox, is he? The red is actually hatchamarks, isn't it?” Ellie looked to Ridge for help, but the boy was busy searching the ground for stray carrot chunks. She looked back to Hawke and blew out a breath in defeat. She didn’t want to lie to Hawke, who had been nothing but nice and helpful. “Yeah. The red is one of his hatchamarks. So is the brown. Copper…Copper’s a legendary hatchamob.” Hawke slowly shook his head, staring at the fox. “I thought I might’ve been going crazy. How’s it even possible? I thought legendary hatchamobs were myths.” “I didn’t even know what a legendary was until a couple days ago,” Ridge said. He must have finally given up and was sitting on Panda’s leg as she munched on bamboo. Ellie looked at Hawke, then pointed at Copper. “This is the reason the king’s after my parents.

The heart of the issue is the modern principle, that does not hold much water, death of us, sever from the bosom thine breast and dispersed, surmounted morals by sadist of uncivil. Mammoth falling gradually dying without remorse, history hidden on the hills and caves, decipher not, roots abandoned for modern indulgence, eyes see not, civilization dying in the orb of beauty when wine blinds us. Rivers moving upstream, oceans feeding rivers, deserts with dense pine trees, oasis with mackerels, the amazons’ sands with camel foot prints, the Savanah snow rain paint beauty of pandas. Mother is blinded by mammon, father drunk with savory of rum while it digs, it destroys the spirit while it penetrates the cudgel spell.

dead is what I’ll be if I can’t find that shoe. I’ll be pulverised like plasticine by Greasy Guillim if I have to go to school in my Reeboks again. Not that I can find my Reeboks either - I think they’ve decided to hide out and party with the rest of my footwear, but where? That is the question. My eyes are drawn to the shoebox in the corner, even as I struggle to avoid the elephant in the room. Well it’s not actually an elephant. Who’d have an elephant in their room? No, it’s a panda. But not just one panda – two! Two pandas I’ll be forced to wear on my feet, if I can’t come up with an alternative pretty quick. They’re still brand new, and that’s the way they’ll remain if I’ve anything to do with it. I know Granny Paddy’s old, but that’s no excuse for furry animal slippers at my age.

The Misadventures of Disappointment Panda If I could invent a superhero, I would invent one called Disappointment Panda. He’d wear a cheesy eye mask and a shirt (with a giant capital T on it) that was way too small for his big panda belly, and his superpower would be to tell people harsh truths about themselves that they needed to hear but didn’t want to accept. He would go door-to-door like a Bible salesman and ring doorbells and say things like, “Sure, making a lot of money makes you feel good, but it won’t make your kids love you,” or “If you have to ask yourself if you trust your wife, then you probably don’t,” or “What you consider ‘friendship’ is really just your constant attempts to impress people.” Then he’d tell the homeowner to have a nice day and saunter on down to the next house.

Rollan glanced at Meilin and her panda. “What’s your power going to be? Cuddling?” Meilin’s face was pure ice. For a moment her lips trembled, but after that the anger only touched her eyes. She held out her arm and in a flash Jhi became a design on the back of her hand. She turned and stormed away.

But alas, I’m here, drunk off my ass, boobs practically spilling out of my shirt, and my mascara slowly melting off my eyelashes and onto my face, morphing me from new-in-town college girl, to trash panda from the raccoon clan. “Dottie, Lindsay,” I say weakly, moving my head from side to side. “Where art thou?” “You need help?” a deep voice slurs next to me. I look to my right through very blurry vision and make out what I’m going to assume is an incredibly attractive man. But then again, I’m drunk—the whole mascara melting off my eyes in full swing—and I’ve been fooled once before. But hey, I think those are blue eyes. Can’t go wrong with that . . . reasoning that will be thought better of in the morning. “Have you seen Dottie or Lindsay?” “Can’t say that I have,” he answers, resting against the wall with me. “Damn it. I think they’re making out with some baseball players. Have you seen any of those around?” “Baseball players?” “Mm-hmm.” I nod, shutting my eyes for a second but then shooting them back open when I feel myself wobble to the side. The guy catches me by the hand before I topple over, but thanks to his alcohol intake, he’s not steady enough to hold us up and . . . timber . . . we fall to the couch next to me. “Whoa, great placement of furniture,” I say, as the guy topples on top of me. “Damn near saved our lives.” I rub my face against the scratchy and worn-out fabric. “How many people do you think have had sex on this thing?” “Probably less than what you’re thinking.” The couch is deep, giving me enough room to lie on my side with the guy in front of me, so we’re both facing each other. He smells nice, like vodka and cupcakes. “So, have you seen any baseball players around? I’m looking for my friends.” “Nah, but if you see any, let me know. I can’t find my room.” “You live here?” I ask, eyes wide. “Yup,” he answers, enunciating the P. “For two years now.” “And you don’t remember where your room is?” “It has a yellow door. If the damn room would stop spinning I’d be able to find it.” “Well . . . maybe if we find your room, we’ll find my friends,” I say, my drunk mind making complete sense. “That’s a great idea.” He rolls off the couch and then stands to his feet, wobbling from side to side as he holds out his hand to me. Without even blinking, I take it in mine and let him help me to my feet. “Yellow door, let’s go,” I say, raising my crumpled cup to the air. “We’re on the move.” He keeps my hand clasped in his and we stumble together past beer pong, people making out against walls, the kitchen, to an open space full of doors. “Yellow door, do you see one?” I blink a few times and then see a flash of sunshine. “There.” I point with force. “Yellow, right there.” His head snaps to where I’m pointing. A beam of light illuminates the color of the door, making it seem like we’re about to walk right into the sun. I’m a little chilly, so I welcome the heat. “Fuck, there it is. You’re good.” 

Seven extra grams of grated nutmeg makes all the difference. Best cinnamon-streusel pumpkin muffin ever. Or at least so far." I opened my eyes, making a slow assessment of my kitchen. Four other batches of pumpkin muffins littered the countertop, many of them on their sides after I took one bite and impatiently tossed them aside. This batch, the fifth, was the queen of the bunch. "I do have some reservations about the pecans." My fluffy panda-head slippers slapped on the wood floors as I walked back to the oven. Holding my butter-smudged working recipe up to the light, I considered the next round of alterations. "I wonder about almonds. Or no! Pistachios!

In the eyes of children we are their: Superheroes, Saviors, Sunshine. Try not to hurt them and never ever abuse them...mentally, verbally or physically!

You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." "Even with puffy red panda eyes?" "Trust me—no other woman can hold a candle to you. Even with puffy red panda eyes and smudged lipstick.

A growl rips free of my chest as I grip her hair. “Feckin’ Christ Jesus,” I groan. Her lips go still on my pulse. … Shit. I immediately loosen the fist tangled in her locks. Did I do something wrong? Something definitely seems wrong. It’s obvious in the way she stiffens. “What did you say?” she whispers, her breath hot on my skin. Fuck. Fuck. What did I do? Was it the whole thou shalt not use the Lord’s name in vain business? Maybe Lark is super religious. I can’t remember if she or Sloane mentioned if the boarding school was some strict Catholic thing. Nuns. Were there nuns? I swallow. “Uh, I said ‘feckin’ Christ Jesus.’” “Growlier,” Lark snaps. “Feckin’ Christ Jesus.” There’s a single heartbeat of stillness in the world. And then Lark has backed away out of reach, the heat of her body gone, a chill left behind on my skin. Both of her hands cover her mouth but they can’t mask the shock in her eyes. Shock and … fury. “Oh my fucking God,” she hisses into her fingers. “What …? Was it the Jesus?” “No. No, it was not ‘the Jesus,’” she says with air quotes and a sneer as she leans close enough to jab a single finger into my chest. “It was ‘the Batman.’ The Budget Batman.” Lark takes a step back. Crosses her arms. Raises a single brow. My eyes narrow to thin slits. The words come out as a venomous hiss when I say, “Blunder Barbie.” “Oh. My. God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Lark says, flapping her hands like she’s trying to get any residue of me off of her. “You had your tongue in my mouth.” “I’d hate to remind us both, Blunder Barbie, but you kissed me.” “And you let me. You fucking knew it was me.” “Clearly, I did not, or I would have taken my chances with the fire escape.” “There is no fire escape.” “Pre-feckin’-cisely.” Lark rolls her eyes before they sharpen on me in a lethal glare. “You are such a liar. You were all up in my face that night. With a flashlight. One that you smacked on my head.” “Your face was plastered with makeup. And I didn’t smack—” “My concussed head. Where I needed fucking stitches which I never got because I had to walk home, thankyouverymuch. And then you growled at me like some rabid trash panda that was about to gnaw my leg off and tossed me in the trunk of your car, you fucking psycho.” “Oh I’m a feckin’ psycho, am I? You’re the one who jumped from a moving vehicle after you rammed some poor bloke into a lake and then fake teared up when I dropped his blimmin’ body at your feet. And they weren’t even good fake tears. They were sarcasm tears,” I snarl. I take a step closer and bend to meet her eye level, dabbing my eyes as I clear my throat for my best candy-sweet vocal impression. “Boo-hoo, I’m Blunder Barbie and I just feckin’ killed a man. My bad. But don’t worry, I’ll just get someone else to fix it so I can toddle on back to my perfect little life.

Ellie stepped forward, eyes blazing with determination. “Let’s do this!” She pointed at Panda. “Get bigger and get its attention!” “Hey!” Ridge shot Ellie a look. “I’m her handler, not you.” He patted Panda on the side. “Okay girl. Get bigger and get its attention.

Ellie cleared her throat even louder. “Hawke!” “Huh?” Hawke turned to her. “Oh, what’s up Ellie?” “Billy is the champion.” “What?” Hawke looked confused. Ellie sighed. “Billy. Is. The. Champion. “Billy is the champion?” Hawke’s eyes went wide. “Yep. Billy is the champion.” “BILLY is the champion?” Ellie nodded. “Billy is the CHAMPION?” Ellie nodded again. “Billy Billy?” Hawke’s face looked like he just watched Panda dance around in a tutu.

Is that a raccoon?” I screeched. “Go away, trash panda!” She hurled the second boot at the masked intruder. Hand-eye coordination never her strong suit, she missed by several feet. “Oh my God, Zoey! Don’t make it mad!” The raccoon looked in my direction, and I gripped the bench leg in both hands like a light saber. “Shoo, wild animal. Begone.” It sat on its fluffy haunches and clasped its hands. Or were they paws? Feet? “I’m not sharing a room with wild animals,” she insisted. “It’s not like I invited it to a slumber party, Zoey! Where did it come from?” I asked, inching my way into the room.

I know!” Ridge said and began pointing at the entrances. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, catch a panda by the toe…” Panda stopped chewing and eyed her boy.