Y'all Know Quotes

As Beck drove out of the garage, he gave the parking attendants a big toothy smile and a wave. “There's some snow on the fifth level. Thought ya might like to know. Y'all have a nice day, now!” he called out. No wonder Dad liked working with you.

Y'all know how much I love you? "Infinity and back again," I say the way I've said it a million times. And then, daddy says to me, "go on and add a little bit more to that.

We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost but tonight let us not become tragedies. We are not funeral homes with propane tanks in our windows, lookin’ like cemeteries. Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go. Let go. Tonight let’s turn our silly wrists so far backwards the razor blades in our pencil tips can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside. Step into this with your airplane parts. Move forward and repeat after me with your heart: “I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did. Go slow. I’m new to this. But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping. I have realized that the moon did not have to be full for us to love it, that we are not tragedies stranded here beneath it, that if my heart really broke every time I fell from love I’d be able to offer you confetti by now. But hearts don’t break, y’all, they bruise and get better. We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You call 9 – 1 – 1. Tell them I’m having a fantastic time.

Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.” “Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. “Shut up, idiot.

It's because I'm a 'Limited Edition'. Y'all should be grateful for even knowing me," Meryn huffed.

There was no ‘Miss Woodley.’ There was Willie. Willie was about life, and she grabbed it by the balls. Y’all know that. She loved a stiff drink, a stiff hundred, and she loved her business. And she didn’t judge nobody. She loved everyone equal—accountants, queers, musicians, she welcomed us all, said we were all idiots just the same.

That American Dream that y'all fight so hard for over there ? The freedom that you would die to protect. They're yours too, you know.

Sometimes God gits familiar wid us womenfolks too and talks His inside business. He told me.how surprised y'all is goin' tuh be if you ever find out you don't know half as much 'bout us as you think yo do. It's so easy to make yo'self out God Almighty when you ain't got nothin' tuh strain against but women and chickens.

Now y'all know it's to many of y'all. GS told me to bring up the baddest female in the house.

Can't introduce ya,' the feline admitted. 'Why not?' 'Don't know his name.' 'Snuggling up to a man y'all don't know. My momma was right. Yankees are whores.' 'Well, I know him,' MacDermot volumteered. The She-wolf stared at her. 'So?' 'You said y'all.' 'I didn't say 'all y'all.' So I wasn't talking to you.' 'I don't understand your country-speak,' McDermot complained, dropping into the desk chair across from Crush.

And, I want other women to know they can stand up and MUST stand up to your persecutors. Feel the fear, and do it anyway. We are all as sick as our secrets y'all. Remember that sh*t.

And that’s something I’ve learned in the years since, that there are so many different types of love, so many ways someone can stay committed to you, stay in your life even if y’all aren’t together, you know? And none of these ways are more important than the other.

You have to be happy in your regular life or you’re not going to survive the journey toward a goal.

Best day of my life hasn't happened yet. But I know it. I see it every day. The best day of my life is the day I buy my mom a huge fucking house. And not just like out in the woods, but in the middle of Mountain Brook, with all the Weekday Warriors' parents. With all y'all's parents. And I'm not buying it with a mortgage either. I'm buying it with cash money, and I am driving my mom there, and I'm going to open her side of the car door and she'll get out and look at this house—this house is like picket fence and two stories and everything, you know—and I'm going to hand her the keys to her house and I'll say, 'Thanks.' Man, she helped fill out my application to this place. And she let me come here, and that's no easy thing when you come from where we do, to let your son go away to school. So that's the best day of my life.

You know what a redneck's last words are, right, Mace?"my aunt asked on the phone. "Hey y'all...watch this!

What's going on?" Kel asks. "Nothing," I say. "Y'all can go back to class. She just wanted to know where we got the materials for your costume so she can be a hemorrhoid next year.

...but he can't stop himself from loving her. Maybe it's 'cause he knows that in the end, she'll survive him. ... By virtue of being a woman, she's stronger. Girls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down. The power and magic born in that struggle? It's so terrifying to men that we invented reasons to burn y'all at the stake, just to keep our dicks hard.

Do either of y’all know what a viscount is?” June is saying, halfway through a cucumber sandwich. “I’ve met, like, five of them, and I keep smiling politely as if I know what it means when they say it. Alex, you took comparative international governmental relational things. Whatever. What are they?” “I think it’s that thing when a vampire creates an army of crazed sex waifs and starts his own ruling body.

CHAPTER 2: INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS ALDO THE APACHE My name is Lt. Aldo Raine and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me 8 soldiers. 8 Jewish-American soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross 5,000 miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of a fuckin' air-o-plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be destroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bitch we find wearin' a Nazi uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the mountain man Jim Bridger. That means I got a little Injun in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Apache resistance. We will be cruel to the Germans, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the German won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the German will be sickened by us, and the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us. And when the German closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sooounds good?

Stevie Rae looked from vampyre to vampyre. “Y’all need to get your shit together. Here’s a newsflash from the only High Priestess you have left at this dang school: Zoey isn’t dead. And believe me, I know dead. I’ve been there, done that, and got the frickin’ T-shirt.” Stevie Rae turned her back on the room and, with her fledglings, got the heck outta there.

The things in your life don't have to be expensive for you to thoroughly enjoy them.

And I’m lactose intolerant but if you told me I couldn’t have cheese ever again, I would slap you in your face.

What? I better ask before y’all have me sleeping in the house with a murderer, waking up dead!” What in the . . . “You can’t wake up dead,” I say. “Li’l girl, you know what I mean!” She moves from the doorway. “I’ll be waking up in Jesus’s face, trying to figure out what happened!” “Like you going to heaven,” Daddy mumbles.

Holy crap, Caleb! You're my uncle." Nick "No!" Caleb "It's worse. He's the half-brother of your great-grandfather." Kody "You're not helping." Caleb "No, but I'm entertaining myself at your adorable expense." Kody "Yeah, y'all are missing the important fact. To a Cajun, that makes him my uncle." Nick "Great. I always wanted to be a monkey's uncle. Nice to know I finally succeeded." Caleb

Whole heap o’ folks, ’cludin’ me till I got grown, ain’t knowed at firs’ weren’t nobody in dis country but Indians, fishin’ an’ huntin’ an’ fightin’ one ’nother, jes’ mindin’ dey own business. Den here come l’il ol’ boat o’ white folks a-wavin’ an’ grinnin’. ‘Hey, y’all red mens! How ’bout let us come catch a bite an’ a nap ’mongst y’all an’ le’s be friends!’ Huh! I betcha nowdays dem Indians wish dey’s made dat boat look like a porcupine wid dey arrows!

Home ain't always about a place. The house I grew up in is gone, ain't nothin' but a field and some woods but even if the house was still there - it ain't about that. I don't know. Home is about the earth. Whether the earth open up to you. Whether it pull you so close the space between you and it melt and y’all one and it beats like your heart. Same time.

There were moments like this that Alix tried to breeze over, but they got stuck somewhere between her heart and ears. She knew Emira had gone to college. She knew Emira had majored in English. But sometimes, after seeing her paused songs with titles like "Dope Bitch" and "Y'all Already Know," then hearing her use words like connoisseur, Alix was filled with feelings that went from confused and highly impressed to low and guilty in response to the first reaction. There was no reason for Emira to be unfamiliar with this word. And there was no reason for Alix to be impressed.

i was really into communal living and we were all / such free spirits, crossing the country we were / nomads and artists and no one ever stopped / to think about how the one working class housemate / was whoring to support a gang of upper middle class / deadheads with trust fund safety nets and connecticut / childhoods, everyone was too busy processing their isms / to deal with non-issues like class....and it’s just so cool / how none of them have hang-ups about / sex work they’re all real / open-minded real / revolutionary you know / the legal definition of pimp is / one who lives off the earnings of / a prostitute, one or five or / eight and i’d love to stay and / eat some of the stir fry i’ve been cooking / for y’all but i’ve got to go fuck / this guy so we can all get stoned and / go for smoothies tomorrow, save me / some rice, ok?

Daddy, you’re the worst person to watch Harry Potter with. The whole time you’re talking about”—I deepen my voice—“‘Why don’t they shoot that nigga Voldemort?’” “Ay, it don’t make sense that in all them movies and books, nobody thought to shoot him.” “If it’s not that,” Momma says, “you’re giving your ‘Harry Potter is about gangs’ theory.” “It is!” he says. Okay, so it is a good theory. Daddy claims the Hogwarts houses are really gangs. They have their own colors, their own hideouts, and they are always riding for each other, like gangs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione never snitch on one another, just like gangbangers. Death Eaters even have matching tattoos. And look at Voldemort. They’re scared to say his name. Really, that “He Who Must Not Be Named” stuff is like giving him a street name. That’s some gangbanging shit right there. “Y’all know that make a lot of sense,” Daddy says. “Just ’cause they was in England don’t mean they wasn’t gangbanging.” He looks at me. “So you down to hang out with your old man today or what?

People who are going to be successful know it’s gonna happen. And those people tend to hustle until it does happen.

...I learned a valuable lesson that stays with me to this day and plays on a loop in my head any time I have a big audition. It goes a little something like this: "Bitch, stop wasting time fearing the worst! Living through the worst is never as hard as fearing it. Fight the fear and go do what you gotta do. That's what you came here for.

No one has heard from him in countless centuries. For all we know, the Grizzly might have killed him when he behind the Gate or he could have possessed him. You have no idea what the Grizzly is capable of. Trust me. We have to stop them from opening that jar. If the Grizzly gets out again–” – Ren “It’ll be a fun time in Disneyland. Y’all think we could arm Mickey? He might be badass with a gun.” – Sundown

...living here, you don't know anything about white people. Where I'm from, everything is mixed. In Atlanta, at least out here where we stay at, everything is so black that y'all don't know what it feels like to be black.

Here’s the deal, y’all. God. Already. Knows. His people are a hot, sinful mess, so when we simply acknowledge that and repent, He’s waiting with open arms. We don’t have to justify ourselves because Jesus already did that on the cross. So the risk of repentance doesn’t lead to punishment—it leads to the unilateral forgiveness and unconditional affection of our Creator Redeemer. Vegas only wished it had a payout that humongous.

Globalist” is Bannonese for “Jew,” y’all. Just letting you know, in case you’ve been living under a rock.

What you mean he’s staying with us?” “Just what I said. He got in a little trouble in Garden Heights and needs to stay here.” She scoffs, and I know where Momma gets it from. “A li’l trouble, huh? Tell the truth, boy.” She lowers her voice and asks with suspicious, squinted eyes, “Did you kill somebody?” “Momma!” my momma says. “What? I better ask before y’all have me sleeping in the house with a murderer, waking up dead!” What in the . . . “You can’t wake up dead,” I say. “Li’l girl, you know what I mean!” She moves from the doorway. “I’ll be waking up in Jesus’s face, trying to figure out what happened!” “Like you going to heaven,” Daddy mumbles.

My Big Mama raised us. She'd tell me and my two girl cousins every time we left the house, 'Y'all be careful. It's dangerous being a girl out there.'” Gale lets out a hard, sharp laugh that turns into a wet cough. “What I found out was the danger wasn't always out there, if you get what I'm saying. But it was like I just knew not to say a word 'bout nothing 'cause people don't wanna know that shit.

And that’s something I’ve learned in the years since, that there are so many different types of love, so many ways someone can stay committed to you, stay in your life even if y’all aren’t together, you know?

This is why men get a bad rap. Y’all do stupid shit then try to justify it by saying crap like, ‘For a man, it’s different.’ Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but if a man is kind, loving, respectful, makes a woman laugh, knows how to open the pickle jar, and change a flat tire, we really don’t need much else.

I'm fucking done with sadness, and I don't know what's up the ass of the universe lately, but I'VE HAD IT. I AM GOING TO BE FURIOUSLY HAPPY, OUT OF SHEER SPITE. Can you hear that? That's me smiling, y'all. I'm smiling so loud you can fucking hear it. I'm going to destroy the goddamn universe with my irrational joy and I will spew forth pictures of clumsy kittens and baby puppies adopted by raccoons and MOTHERFUCKING NEWBORN LLAMAS DIPPED IN GLITTER AND THE BLOOD OF SEXY VAMPIRES AND IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME. In fact, I'm starting a whole movement right now. The FURIOUSLY HAPPY movement. And it's going to be awesome because first of all, we're all going to be VEHEMENTLY happy, and secondly because it will freak the shit out of everyone that hates you because those assholes don't want to see you even vaguely amused, much less furiously happy, and it will make their world turn a little sideways and will probably scare the shit out of them. Which will make you even more happy. Legitimately.

If they wants to see and know, why they don’t come kiss and be kissed? Ah could then sit down and tell ’em things. Ah been a delegate to de big ’ssociation of life. Yessuh! De Grand Lodge, de big convention of livin’ is just where Ah been dis year and a half y’all ain’t seen me.

People hate these shows, but their hatred smacks of denial. It's all there, all the old American grotesques, the test-tube babies of Whitman and Poe, a great gauntlet of doubtless eyes, big mouths spewing fantastic catchphrase fountains of impenetrable self-justification, muttering dark prayers, calling on God to strike down those who would fuck with their money, their cash, and always knowing, always preaching. Using weird phrases that nobody uses, except everybody uses them now. Constantly talking about 'goals.' Throwing carbonic acid on our castmates because they used our special cup annd then calling our mom to say, in a baby voice, 'People don't get me here.' Walking around half-naked with a butcher knife behind our backs. Telling it like it is, y'all (what-what). And never passive-aggressive, no. Saying it straight to your face. But crying...My God, there have been more tears shed on reality TV than by all the war widows of the world. Are we so raw? It must be so. There are simply too many of them-too many shows and too many people on the shows-for them not to be revealing something endemic. This is us, a people of savage sentimentality, weeping and lifting weights.

We ate our fill, but there was more left when we was done. 'It’ll be in the icebox if y’all want some more later on,' she told us. There weren’t no way I would have gone back and eat more. I knowed they was being extra nice to us right then, but if we didn’t act right, they would put us out. That’s how folks do.

A relationship is NOT a test, DO NOT cheat. A relationship is NOT a political party, ADD NOT a third member. A relationship is NOT a public matter, transparency is NOT necessary. A relationship is NOT a burial sceme, it requires not other insurances on the side "in case" it doesn't pay off. A relationship is NOT a society, take NOT any advice you get because it is advice froma bunch of women. A relationship that lasts is a relationship where people know about y'all but know NOTHING about y'all.

It's you young folks what's going to make the changes, y'all's the ones. You got to lead and you got to fight and move us all on up a little higher. And I tell you something else, it's the ones from the South that's got to do it, them what knows the fire and ain't forgot how it burns. Up here too many forgits. They finds a place for themselves and forgits the ones on the bottom. Oh, heap of them talks about doing things, but they done really forgot. No, it's you young ones what has to remember and take the lead.

Osaka: Ah Get to ponderin' when Christmas rolls around. Y'all know Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer? That's messed up, y'know? Saying his nose will help light the way at night ain't no way t'make him feel better about it. If you told a bald fella you needed the light reflecting off his head to see, he'd like to punch you. Santa's a cruel bully.

When we get back, we can watch that Harry Potter shit you like so much.” “Noooooooo.” “What?” he asks. “Daddy, you’re the worst person to watch Harry Potter with. The whole time you’re talking about”—I deepen my voice—“‘Why don’t they shoot that nigga Voldemort?’” “Ay, it don’t make sense that in all them movies and books, nobody thought to shoot him.” “If it’s not that,” Momma says, “you’re giving your ‘Harry Potter is about gangs’ theory.” “It is!” he says. Okay, so it is a good theory. Daddy claims the Hogwarts houses are really gangs. They have their own colors, their own hideouts, and they are always riding for each other, like gangs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione never snitch on one another, just like gangbangers. Death Eaters even have matching tattoos. And look at Voldemort. They’re scared to say his name. Really, that “He Who Must Not Be Named” stuff is like giving him a street name. That’s some gangbanging shit right there. “Y’all know that make a lot of sense,” Daddy says. “Just ’cause they was in England don’t mean they wasn’t gangbanging.

Death dealing devices sold at high prices Designed with you in mind to buy As they kill you slow and some of y'all don't even know Y'all paying the Machine to die

And you know what y’all always say—we all look alike. But it’s a funny thing—we all look alike, but you can positively identify us in that time of trouble.

What are you looking at?” Jazmin said to Jah. “Y’all going to hell, you know that?” Jah said

If y'all find a couple of my toes on ya plate, jess let me know, 'cause I'm missin' a few. I put my foot in this heah meal.” ~Big Momma

Do y’all know he has a giant library with shelves that reach the ceiling?” “Of course, he does,” snarked Violet. “Bitches love libraries.

 I’m . . . concerned. You appear to be upset. What’s wrong?” His voice gentled and his eyes searched mine. “What’s happened? And what can I do to help?” I crossed my arms because my stupid heart was fluttering again. He caught me off guard. I was not at all prepared for Cletus Winston’s concern. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to bring y’all muffins. Can’t I bring y’all muffins?” He was scrutinizing me again. “No. Something’s off. Is it Jackson James? Do I need to maim him? Because I will. I could give him leprosy, you know. Armadillos are carriers.” My mouth fell open and a bubble of laughter emerged unchecked. “Cletus Winston, you will do no such thing.” “Sheriff’s deputy or not. Just say the word. It might improve him, actually.” “You are terrible.” I laughed, even though he was terrible, and I felt terrible laughing at such a terrible joke. At least, I hope it’s a joke

You know your problem, Quentin? You keep expecting people not to be themselves...stop thinking Ben should be you, and he needs to stop thinking you should be him, and y'all just chill the hell out.

Sometimes God gits familiar wid us womenfolks too and talks His inside business. He told me how surprised He was ’bout y’all turning out so smart after Him makin’ yuh different; and how surprised y’all is goin’ tuh be if you ever find out you don’t know half as much ’bout us as you think you do. It’s so easy to make yo’self out God Almighty when you ain’t got nothin’ tuh strain against but women and chickens.

I got a calling, y’all—you should try giving me a shout if ya ever need it, ‘cuz my name is Saint Monica, I’m the mother of Saint Augustine, one of the Fathers of the Church, and ya know what? My ass gets results!

Here's a question: what do people like even better than cocaine? Fried food. And what do they like even more than fried food? Sticks. You know what's never been thought of? Fried cocaine on a stick. Y'all, we are gonna be zillionaires.

...Black people fill every table, either eating fried chicken and seasoned fries or waiting for their order to be ready. When the bell on the door chimes, fifty percent of their eyes fall on us. My skin crawls. I'm not used to being surrounded by people with my skin color. It makes me feel like they can see how other I am. But they can't, right? I could blend in if I tried. I could embrace the country in my accent. I could say ain't and y'all and the N-word and they wouldn't know a thing.

Never mind that she’s been hearing this soliloquy from strangers since she was born, in the Year of the Fire Horse, twin sixes after the nineteen. Never mind the order of questions invariably changes even if the questions themselves do not: 'How long have y’all lived here? Do you even speak English? Oh, well. Your English is so good. Bless your heart, you must miss your people. You stick out like a raisin in a big bowl of oatmeal. Is it true that you worship cows? . . . Have you even heard of the Bible? Don’t get all uppity on me, don’t turn away. I know you think you don’t have to listen. But this is my country. You do. When are y’all heading back? Y’all best be getting back to where you came from, you hear? No need to overstay your welcome.

He knows Gia's tougher than him. By virtue of being a woman, she's stronger. GIrls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down. The power and magic born in that struggle? It's so terrifying to men that we invented reasons to burn y'all at the stake, just to keep our dicks hard.

I know y’all might not understand this now. But the most important thing anyone can ever do is to truly see themselves and to love what they see. And at times, it isn’t easy. But just hear this: No matter what people say about you, no matter how they try to define you, just remember that you get to decide who you are.

E-Liz-A-Beth, you'll take me to Noctem Falls won't you?" Meryn begged giving her puppy dog eyes. "Of course I will. We can go there after DragonCon next year," she promised. "Oh no. She talked you into that convention thing." Aiden glared at his mate. "It's perfectly safe. Think of it this way. It's an event where thousands of people just like Meryn get together for a couple days and live it up," Elizabeth explained. All five men paled. "Thousands of people," Colton whispered. "Just like Meryn?" Keelan asked. Elizabeth looked around. The men had that deer in the headlights looks. "Maybe not just like her." "Thank goodness. One Meryn in the world is enough," Colton teased, looking relieved. "It's because I'm a 'Limited Edition'. Y'all should be grateful for even knowing me," Meryn huffed. "We are, my love. We are." Aiden scowled at his men over Meryn's head. "We wouldn't trade you for a sane version any day," Colton reassured her. Meryn smiled then frowned. "What do you mean 'sane version'?

I make this point to stress that the brilliance of neoindigenous youth cannot be appreciated by educators who are conditioned to perceive anything outside their own ways of knowing and being as not having value. This is similar to white teachers at the Carlisle School who sought to ban the language and customs of their indigenous students and replace them with “American culture.” The University of Minnesota Human Rights Center describes this process as the silencing of voice and history that is part of the indigenous experience. I argue that enduring this silencing process is something that both the indigenous and neoindigenous have in common, and should be used as a way to connect them.

She knew Emira had gone to college. She knew Emira had majored in English. But sometimes, after seeing her paused songs with titles like "Dope Bitch" and "Y'all Already Know," and then hearing her use words like connoisseur, Alix was filled with feelings that went from confused and highly impressed to low and guilty in response to the first reaction.

Our Dome is the bottom of the barrel in the Mega City," Asterion said. "The Deep, it's beneath the bottom. Patrols don't even come down yonder no more. This here is where the forgotten live." "That's pretty deep from a guy that talks as funny as you do." I said quietly. "It's not polite to make fun of a man's drawl," he said. I nodded. "You've told me that before too," I said. I still got no idea what 'drawl' even means and have never heard anyone else say it. I'm thinking you made it up." Asterion shook his head. "Y'all never heard of Texas either," he said. "Goes to show what you know." I grinned. "That sounds made up too." He shook his head in disgust. "Don't make no different anyhow," he said, as much to himself as to me. "They say half of it is underwater now anyway.

You think I'm stupid?" she says. "Like it's not obvious to anyone who knows y'all that something's going on. Look at Wes. He's sweating like a fucking hard cheese on the A train. I don't need to know what you're doing, but, you know, I can help." Wes stares at Annie for a full five seconds, and says, "Oh Jesus Christ, I'm in love with you." Annie blinks. "Can you say that without looking like you're gonna throw up?

I'd bet dollars to doughnuts, someone needs someone exactly like you and they're preparing to welcome you into their life. I suspect someone misses you and listens for your footsteps on the stairs. Someone remembers the corner of your smile and laughs out loud when they think of that time y'all two were at the whatchamacallit. Someone knows you exist and cares that you're happy, and all those someones connect you to the great everyone.

Niko, everything I'm about to say to this guy is a complete and total lie, and I love you and will marry you and adopt a hundred three-eyed ravens or whatever it is your weird ass wants instead of kids," she mutters. "I know," Niko says back. "Did you just propose to me?" "Oh shit, I guess I did?" Myla opens the door and shoves Gabe through it. "I'm so mad at you," Niko says. "I already have a ring at home." "Oh my God, seriously?" says Jane. "Mazel," Wes chimes in. "Y'all," August says.

Don’t you know you can’t git de best of no woman in de talkin’ game? Her tongue is all de weapon a woman got,” George Thomas chided Gene. “She could have had mo’ sense, but she told God no, she’d ruther take it out in hips. So God give her her ruthers. She got plenty hips, plenty mouf and no brains.” “Oh, yes, womens is got sense too,” Mathilda Moseley jumped in. “But they got too much sense to go ‘round braggin’ about it like y’all do. De lady people always got de advantage of mens because God fixed it dat way.

This dish... it's sweet-and-sour pork but with black vinegar. In fact, you could call it "Black Vinegar Pork." The glossy black of the vinegar was used to great effect in the plating, giving the dish a classy and luxuriant appearance. But the moment you put a bite in your mouth... fresh, vibrant green tea explodes in a sea of invigorating green. It is extravagantly delicious. Chef Kuga's Sweet-and-Sour sauce includes not just black vinegar but also balsamic vinegar as well as Chef Mimasaka's smoked soy sauce! It destroys the traditional boundaries of sweet-and-sour pork, creating a dish that's rich, tangy and savory while erasing the pork's thick greasiness to push the taste of the green tea to the forefront! He has completely succeeded in taking the green tea leaves and making them the centerpiece of his dish! But the point most worthy of attention... ... is that this sublime taste experience wasn't created using solely Chinese-cooking techniques. It shows an equally deft use of traditional French techniques!" "What the... French?! But isn't he supposed to be a purely Sichuan-Chinese chef?!" "Yes, yes. I'm gonna explain, so quiet down and listen up, 'kay? See, there's another secret y'all don't know. That sweet-and-sour sauce? I based it on Sauce au Vinaigre Balsamique. That's a balsamic vinegar sauce used in a whole lot of French recipes." "Aha! Now I see. So that's where it came from! French Vinaigre Balsamique sauce is a reduction of balsamic vinegar and Glacé de Viande! It has a light tanginess and thick richness, which must have boosted the deliciousness of the sweet-and-sour pork into the stratosphere!

When we’re in line for food, Peter reaches for a brownie and I say, “Don’t--I brought cookies,” and he gets excited. “Can I have one now?” he asks. I pull my Tupperware out of my bag and Peter grabs one. “Let’s not share with anybody else,” he says. “Too late,” I say, because our friends have spotted us. Darrell is singing, “Her cookies bring all the boys to the yard,” as we walk up to the table. I set the Tupperware down on the table and the boys wrestle for it, snatching cookies and gobbling them up like trolls. Pammy manages to snag one and says, “Y’all are beasts.” Darrell throws his head back and makes a beastlike sound, and she giggles. “These are amazing,” Gabe groans, licking chocolate off his fingers. Modestly I say, “They’re all right. Good, but not amazing. Not perfect.” I break a piece off of Peter’s cookie. “They taste better fresh out of the oven.” “Will you please come over to my house and bake me cookies so I know what they taste like fresh out of the oven?” Gabe bites into another one and closes his eyes in ecstasy. Peter snags one. “Stop eating all my girlfriend’s cookies!” Even a year later, it still gives me a little thrill to hear him say “my girlfriend” and know that I’m her. “You’re gonna get a gut if you don’t quit with that shit,” Darrell says. Peter takes a bite of cookie and lifts up his shirt and pats his stomach. “Six-pack, baby.” “You’re a lucky girl, Large,” Gabe says. Darrell shakes his head. “Nah, Kavinsky’s the lucky one.” Peter catches my eye and winks, and my heart beats quicker. I have a feeling that when I’m Stormy’s age, these everyday moments will be what I remember: Peter’s head bent, biting into a chocolate chip cookie; the sun coming through the cafeteria window, bouncing off his brown hair; him looking at me.

Chris and I talked about the ceremony on the way home. “There were a lot of people there,” I said. “I would like a small ceremony.” “For a funeral?” “Well, yeah.” “I want a big funeral,” he said. “I’m gone, right? Blow it out.” He wanted bagpipes, music, and a large crowd. We talked a bit more. “Do you still want to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery?” I asked. We’d discussed the possibility several times; it had been among his dearest wishes. “I don’t know if I feel that way anymore,” he confessed. “Why is that?” “I just want to be wherever is best for y’all.” I was so taken aback by that. But it stayed with me.

one day Apollo showed up at the doorway of my cave with half a dozen young demigods. ‘You know all that stuff I taught you?’ he asked me. ‘It’s time to pay it forward! I’d like you to meet Achilles, Aeneas, Jason, Atalanta, Asclepius and Percy –’ ‘It’s Perseus, sir,’ said one of the young men. ‘Whatever!’ Apollo grinned with delight. ‘Chiron, teach them everything I showed you. Y’all have fun!’ Then he vanished. I turned to the youngsters. They frowned at me. The one named Achilles drew his sword. ‘Apollo expects us to learn from a centaur?’ he demanded. ‘Centaurs are wild barbarians, worse than the Trojans!’ ‘Hey, shut up,’ said Aeneas. ‘Gentlemen and lady,’ I interceded.

The Jackson 5 shook off the last song and readied for another sortie. The smallest Jackson movement, every tremble, elicited another wave of squeals from the Garden. "I'd like to talk to y'all tonight," Michael said, "about the blues." Carney chuckled--the kid was ten. "The blues?" Marlon or maybe Jermaine asked. "Yeah, the blues. Don't nobody have the blues like me. I may be young, but I know what it's all about." The boys bit into "Who's Lovin' You" and the building rattled. The girls screamed. There were rumors about guys the mob had rubbed out and buried in the concrete foundation below. The noise would've woken them up. Carney shouldn't have laughed. What ten-year-old black child didn't know the blues?

Anyway,” Beau—clearly eager to change the subject—pointed down the hall, “let’s talk about the color Jethro decided to paint the second bedroom.” “What’s wrong with green?” Jethro grinned slyly. His poker face had always sucked. “Nothing is wrong with green, but that’s a very odd shade of green. What was it called again?” “Sweet pea,” Duane supplied flatly for his twin. “It was called sweet pea and I believe it was labeled as nursery paint.” “Nursery paint, huh? You have something to tell us, Jethro?” Beau teased, mirroring Jethro’s grin. “No news to share? No big bombshell to drop?” Jethro glanced at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell them yet.” “Why would I? I’m good at keeping secrets.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure I looked innocent. “And I’m not the one who’s pregnant.” “I knew it!” Beau attacked Jethro, pulling him into a quick man-hug. Jethro’s grin widened to as large as I’ve ever seen it. “How could you possibly know?” Duane clapped Jethro on the back as soon as Beau released him. “Because you’ve always wanted kids, and weren’t one to futz around once you made up your mind.” “You should have painted it vomit green, to disguise all the baby vomit you’re going to have to deal with,” Beau suggested. “And shit brown,” Duane added. “Don’t forget about the shit.” “Y’all are the best.” Jethro placed his hands over his chest. “You warm my heart.” “Make sure the floor is waterproof.” Beau grabbed a beer and uncapped it. “Don’t tell me, to catch the vomit and poop?” “No,” Beau wagged his eyebrows, “because of all the crying you’re going to do when you can’t sleep through the night or make love to your woman anymore.” “Ah, yes. Infant-interuptus is a real condition. No cure for it either.” Duane nodded and it was a fairly good imitation of my somber nod. In fact, how he sounded was a fairly good imitation of me. You sound like Cletus.” Drew laughed, obviously catching on. Duane slid his eyes to mine and gave me a small smile. I lifted an eyebrow at my brother to disguise the fact that I thought his impression was funny. “Y’all need to lay off. Babies are the best. Think of all the cuddling. This is great news.

February 22, 2005 Right now the rumor on leaving is the latest the 22nd, but I am still supposed to leave on the first. Hopefully. I want to get home to see my baby and my son. I miss both of y’all something awful. Time is going a little faster now because of working again. I had a long enough break and it’s about time I got back out. I’m still making a name for myself by adding to my numbers. I know I never say it, but it does feel good to have all the people talking about me in a good way. Anyway, I love you and miss you. You mean the world to me. Please take care of yourself and I will call you soon. Smoooooooooch!!!!! I can’t wait to give you a real one. Carefully go over every inch of your body. I am soooo horny! I love you, baby! -XOXOXOXOXXXXX

In today's so-called Christianity, many have foolishly and selfishly changed the words of our Lord from, “Thy will be done” to “My will be done”. They constantly seek God's richest blessings for themselves by “claiming” and “declaring” things which, for the most part, are worldly and material in nature. You know, temporal. True servants of the Most High God, on the other hand, realize the greatest and richest blessing took place at the point of salvation, when the Most High saved us from the very place we all deserve to go – HELL! Nothing can ever top the "miracle" of salvation! Anyone trying to top this “eternal” blessing with “temporal” blessings is merely chasing after the wind. We're called to serve, not be served. Know what I mean? Grace and peace y'all... “You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.” (James 4:3).

Some of you from outside the South may be wondering why we’re emphasizing this irrefutable historical fact that everyone should know so strongly already. Well, it’s because there has been an unfortunate tendency down here to deflect as much attention as possible away from the atrocities that the South was responsible for before, during, and after the war, and to focus on the glory, the courage, and all that kind of shit instead. We name roads, schools, and parks after Confederate leaders. We erect statues in their honor. We revere them and honor them, all while ignoring the gigantic racist elephant in the room. 4 Look, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with glory and courage, and it’s completely legitimate to acknowledge the military greatness of some of the Confederacy’s leaders, but what’s not okay is to do so without also acknowledging their complicity in and tacit acceptance of one of the single most reprehensible and inhumane practices in human history. 5 It’s disingenuous. It’s cheap. It’s cowardly. We gotta cut that shit out. So, yes, we fought a war for slavery, and because sometimes the universe gets some shit right (waterfalls, potatoes, Scarlett Johansson), we lost. Which is another thing we apparently need to remind some of our fellow Southerners of. Not only did we fight a war for slavery, but we got our asses whupped. Until we can all agree to accept this and act accordingly, we’re never going to be able to move on. It’s nothing to be proud of, y’all—it really ain’t. We fought and we lost. But our defeat was a great victory for morality and for the country as a whole. Southerners tend to act as if the Civil War isn’t history but a scientific theory whose results can be disproven if discussed enough. It’s not. We lost. Get over it.

Some incidents of facial profiling have been more inconvenient than others. I’ll never forget walking through airport security when I was flying to give a speech to a Christian men’s group in Montana. The Department of Homeland Security screeners obviously didn’t recognize me as “Jase the Duckman” from Duck Dynasty, and I felt like I was one wrong answer away from being led to an interrogation room in a pair of handcuffs! Hunting season had recently ended, so my hair and beard were in full bloom! The security screeners saw a Bible in my bag, and I guess they figured I was a Christian nut because of my long hair and bushy beard. Somehow, I made it through the metal detector and an additional pat-down, and I guess they couldn’t find a justifiable reason to detain me. But as I was getting my belongings back together, I accidentally bumped into a woman. She screamed! It must have been an involuntary reflex. It was a natural response, because she thought I was going to attack her. Once she finally settled down, I made my way to the gate and sat down to compose myself. After a few minutes, a young boy walked up and asked me for my autograph. Finally, I thought to myself. Somebody recognizes me from Duck Dynasty. Not everyone here believes I’m the Unabomber! Man, I could have used the kid about twenty minutes earlier, when I was trying to get through security! I looked over at the boy’s mother, and she was smiling from ear to ear. I realized they were very big fans. I signed my name on a piece of paper and handed it to the kid. “Can I ask you a question?” he said. “Sure, buddy,” I said. “Ask me anything you want.” “How much does Geico pay y’all?” he asked. My jaw dropped as I looked at the kid. “Wait a minute, man,” I said. “I’m not a caveman!” “What do you mean?” the boy asked. “I’m Jase the Duckman,” I said. “You know--from Duck Dynasty? Quack, quack?” It didn’t take me long to realize the boy had no idea what I was talking about. In a matter of minutes, I went from being a potential terrorist to being a caveman selling insurance.

In fact, I didn’t know how much Chris had done in Fallujah until he came home. We were at a car wash place one day when someone overheard his name called and went up to him. “Are you Chris Kyle?” asked the man. His haircut and build made it clear he was military. “Yes.” “I was in Fallujah,” said the young man, who turned out to be a Marine. “You saved my life.” “Y’all saved my ass plenty of times, too,” said Chris, referring to Marines. Others came over, including the father of one of the Marines. He had tears in his eyes when he shook Chris’s hand. “Your husband saved my son’s life,” he said to me. “Thank you.” What an incredibly small world it is, I thought. For all of these people to have been together so far away, and now just meet by chance in the oddest place. Or was it part of a cosmic plan? A way of showing Chris that he was appreciated? I felt proud of him, but I also felt sadness--I imagined being the parent of one of these young men, worried about their welfare and yet unable to do anything to protect them. It was an impotence with few parallels. Chris just took it all in stride, smiling and waving as he left to get the car.

[J.Ivy:] We are all here for a reason on a particular path You don't need a curriculum to know that you are part of the math Cats think I'm delirious, but I'm so damn serious That's why I expose my soul to the globe, the world I'm trying to make it better for these little boys and girls I'm not just another individual, my spirit is a part of this That's why I get spiritual, but I get my hymns from Him So it's not me, it's He that's lyrical I'm not a miracle, I'm a heaven-sent instrument My rhythmatic regimen navigates melodic notes for your soul and your mental That's why I'm instrumental Vibrations is what I'm into Yeah, I need my loot by rent day But that is not what gives me the heart of Kunte Kinte I'm tryina give us "us free" like Cinque I can't stop, that's why I'm hot Determination, dedication, motivation I'm talking to you, my many inspirations When I say I can't, let you or self down If I were of the highest cliff, on the highest riff And you slipped off the side and clinched on to your life in my grip I would never, ever let you down And when these words are found Let it been known that God's penmanship has been signed with a language called love That's why my breath is felt by the deaf And why my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind I, too, dream in color and in rhyme So I guess I'm one of a kind in a full house Cuz whenever I open my heart, my soul, or my mouth A touch of God reigns out [Chorus] [Jay-Z (Kanye West)] Who else you know been hot this long, (Oh Ya, you know we ain't finished) Started from nothing but he got this strong, (The ROC is in the building) Built the ROC from a pebble, pedalled rock before I met you, Pedalled bikes, got my nephews pedal bikes because they special, Let you tell that man I'm falling, Well somebody must've caught him, Cause every fourth quarter, I like to Mike Jordan 'em, Number one albums, what I got like four of dem, More of dem on the way, The Eight Wonder on the way, Clear the way, I'm here to stay, Y'all can save the chitter chat, this and that, this and Jay, Dissin' Jay 'ill get you mased, When I start spitting them lyrics, niggas get very religious, Six Hail Maries, please Father forgive us, Young, the Archbishop, the Pope John Paul of y'all niggas, The way y'all all follow Jigga, Hov's a living legend and I tell you why, Everybody wanna be Hov and Hov still alive.

The next morning I showed up at dad’s house at eight, with a hangover. All my brothers’ trucks were parked in front. What are they all doing here? When I opened the front door, Dad, Alan, Jase, and Willie looked at me. They were sitting around the living room, waiting. No one smiled, and the air felt really heavy. I looked to my left, where Mom was usually working in the kitchen, but this time she was still, leaning over the counter and looking at me too. Dad spoke first. “Son, are you ready to change?” Everything else seemed to go silent and fade away, and all I heard was my dad’s voice. “I just want you to know we’ve come to a decision as a family. You’ve got two choices. You keep doing what you’re doing--maybe you’ll live through it--but we don’t want nothin’ to do with you. Somebody can drop you off at the highway, and then you’ll be on your own. You can go live your life; we’ll pray for you and hope that you come back one day. And good luck to you in this world.” He paused for a second then went on, a little quieter. “Your other choice is that you can join this family and follow God. You know what we stand for. We’re not going to let you visit our home while you’re carrying on like this. You give it all up, give up all those friends, and those drugs, and come home. Those are your two choices.” I struggled to breathe, my head down and my chest tight. No matter what happened, I knew I would never forget this moment. My breath left me in a rush, and I fell to my knees in front of them all and started crying. “Dad, what took y’all so long?” I burst out. I felt broken, and I began to tell them about the sorry and dangerous road I’d been traveling down. I could see my brothers’ eyes starting to fill with tears too. I didn’t dare look at my mom’s face although I could feel her presence behind me. I knew she’d already been through the hell of addiction with her own mother, with my dad, with her brother-in-law Si, and with my oldest brother, Alan. And now me, her baby. I remembered the letters she’d been writing to me over the last few months, reaching out with words of love from her heart and from the heart of the Lord. Suddenly, I felt guilty. “Dad, I don’t deserve to come back. I’ve been horrible. Let me tell you some more.” “No, son,” he answered. “You’ve told me enough.” I’ve seen my dad cry maybe three times, and that was one of them. To see my dad that upset hit me right in the gut. He took me by my shoulders and said, “I want you to know that God loves you, and we love you, but you just can’t live like that anymore.” “I know. I want to come back home,” I said. I realized my dad understood. He’d been down this road before and come back home. He, too, had been lost and then found. By this time my brothers were crying, and they got around me, and we were on our knees, crying. I prayed out loud to God, “Thank You for getting me out of this because I am done living the way I’ve been living.” “My prodigal son has returned,” Dad said, with tears of joy streaming down his face. It was the best day of my life. I could finally look over at my mom, and she was hanging on to the counter for dear life, crying, and shaking with happiness. A little later I felt I had to go use the bathroom. My stomach was a mess from the stress and the emotions. But when I was in the bathroom with the door shut, my dad thought I might be in there doing one last hit of something or drinking one last drop, so he got up, came over, and started banging on the bathroom door. Before I could do anything, he kicked in the door. All he saw was me sitting on the pot and looking up at him while I about had a heart attack. It was not our finest moment. That afternoon after my brothers had left, we went into town and packed up and moved my stuff out of my apartment. “Hey bro,” I said to my roommate. “I’m changing my life. I’ll see ya later.” I meant it.

Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling. At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend. John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said. “Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.” The next day I came back from my lunch break to find a note on my desk: “Chip Gaines called. Call him back.” I thought, Oh, that must be the guy I met yesterday. So I called him. I honestly thought he was going to ask me about getting a better price on his brakes or something, but instead he said, “Hey, I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. I was wondering…you want to go out sometime?” And for some reason I said okay--just like that, without any hesitation. It wasn’t like me at all. When I hung up the phone, I went, “What in the world just happened!” So you said okay immediately? I don’t even remember that. That’s fun! No reservations? Man, I must’ve been good-lookin’. What Chip didn’t know was I didn’t even give myself time to have reservations. Something told me to just go for it. Cute, Joey. This story makes me love you all over again.

I Am A God [Intro: Capleton] Blazing, mi don't want them Mi need them Blazing Suh mi tek har outta bugah red and put her in a tall skirt And now she find out what life is really worth No to X rated Yo mi tek har outta bugah red and put her in a tall skirt And now she find out what life is really worth No to X rated [Intro] I am a god I am a god I am a god [Hook] I am a god Hurry up with my damn massage Hurry up with my damn ménage Get the Porsche out the damn garage I am a god Even though I'm a man of god My whole life in the hands of god So y'all better quit playing with god [Verse 1] Soon as they like you make 'em unlike you Cause kissing people ass is so unlike you The only rapper compared to Michael So here's a few hating-ass niggas who'll fight you And here's a few snake-ass niggas to bite you And I don't even wanna hear 'bout what niggas might do Old niggas mentally still in high school Since the tight jeans they never liked you Pink-ass polos with a fucking backpack But everybody know you brought real rap back Nobody had swag, man, we the Rat Pack Virgil Pyrex, Don C snapback Ivan, diamond, Chi-town shining Monop' in this bitch, get a change of climate Hop in this bitch and get the same thing I'm in Until the day I get struck by lightning I am a god So hurry up with my damn massage In a French-ass restaurant Hurry up with my damn croissants I am a god I am a god I am a god AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! [Verse 2] I just talked to Jesus He said, "What up Yeezus?" I said, "Shit I'm chilling Trying to stack these millions." I know he the most high But I am a close high Mi casa, su casa That's that cosa nostra I am a god I am a god I am a god AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! [Outro: Justin Vernon] Ain't no way I'm giving up. I'm a god

Korie’s parents came to the house to see me, and I sat on the couch with Johnny and Chrys. It was not pretty. The argument was so loud that Alan came out of his room. He looked at us and asked, “What in the world is going on?” Johnny was making all of his arguments, and I was acting like a little punk, twisting his words to put them in my favor, which only made him madder and madder. Johnny told me that according to studies he’d read, 50 percent of all marriages between young people ended in divorce. He had the articles with him to support his arguments. “So you’re calling that right now?” I asked him. “In all your wisdom, you know we’re going to get divorced?” “I’m not saying that,” Johnny told me. “You just said it,” I responded. “You just said half end in divorce. Well, what if we’re the good half?” Then Johnny went on to say that if we got married, he didn’t want me coming to him for advice. But then later on in the conversation, he told me I could ask him about anything. He was completely irrational, and I, of course, had to point that out to him. “You just said I couldn’t ask you for advice,” I told him. He was so mad, I thought he was going to leap off the couch and hit me. Before they left, Johnny looked at me and asked me one last question. “What’s your plan?” he asked. “What’s my plan?” I said to him. “What exactly is your plan?” he said. “Where are you going to work? Where are you going to live?” “Well, I reckon I’ll just buy a trailer and put it on the back property at Phil’s house,” I told him. That threw Johnny over the top. He and Chrys stormed out of Alan and Lisa’s house, and I was convinced there was no way they were going to give us their blessing to get married. I called Korie to tell her how the meeting went. “It went terrible,” I told her. “We were yelling at each other. It was pretty ugly.” Then Korie had to hang up because her parents were calling her phone. She called me back a few minutes later. Much to my surprise, her parents told her, “Okay, if you’re determined to do this, we’re going to support you.” Johnny didn’t say much to me for the next few months, during the planning of the wedding, and I knew Korie’s parents still didn’t like the idea of her getting married so young. I told Phil that Korie’s parents didn’t want us getting married and asked him what I should do. “Here’s what I’d do,” Phil said, while sitting back in his recliner. “I’d call them up and say, “Y’all missed that. The wedding was last week when we went to the justice of the peace and got married. Y’all missed the whole thing.

For some reason, Jase thought it would be really funny to lock me out of the house, and I was furious. I kept banging on the door, but Jase had turned the music up loud so he wouldn’t hear me. He kicked his feet up on a table and kept yelling, “I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you.” I went to Granny’s house and told Kay what Jase had done. Kay went marching back to our house and was hotter than a catfish fry in July. She started banging on the door, but Jase thought it was still me and just kept blaring the music and enjoying having the house to himself. Kay got so angry that she banged on the glass pane and her fist went right through the window, cutting up her hand pretty badly. This caught Jase’s attention. When he saw her hand, he knew he was in big trouble. “When your dad gets home, he’s going to whip y’all’s butts,” Kay told us. I hadn’t even done anything, but Phil didn’t usually conduct and investigation to find out who was at fault. He just whipped whoever was in the vicinity of the crime. Jase and I ran back to our room and padded up with anything we could find-socks, underwear, and pillowcases. We sat on our bed with our butts padded, waiting for Phil to get home, certain we were in big trouble. Phil came into our house and saw the bandage on Kay’s hand. “What in the world did you do?” Phil asked her. “Look at what these boys did,” Kay told him. “Jase locked Willie out of the house, and I was banging on the door for him to let us in. My hand went right through the window.” “Kay, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you bang on a glass window?” Phil said. Phil walked right by her and took a shower. Jase and I were standing there with padded behind, our mouths wide open with relief. Phil was always in charge of disciplining us, but sometimes Kay tried to take matters into her own hands. Unfortunately for Kay, she was really an uncoordinated disciplinarian. One day when Phil was out fishing, Kay announced that she was going to whip us. She grabbed a belt that had a buckle on one end and told us to line up for a whipping. Now, Kay never liked whipping us and always closed her eyes when she swung because she didn’t want to watch. This time, she reared back and swung and missed, and the buckle flew back and hit her right in the forehead. Jase and I just looked at her, started laughing, and took off running into the backyard. I really don’t know how she survived raising us four boys. Korie: Poor Kay! All that testosterone in one house! Maybe that’s why she is so great to us daughters-in-law. She is thankful we took them off her hands. She has definitely enjoyed all of her granddaughters. She has set up a cute little library and a place for tea parties. They have coloring contests and dress-up parties. She didn’t get to do any of that with her four boys so our daughters have gotten the full “girly” grandma treatment.

Sky's The Limit" [Intro] Good evening ladies and gentlemen How's everybody doing tonight I'd like to welcome to the stage, the lyrically acclaimed I like this young man because when he came out He came out with the phrase, he went from ashy to classy I like that So everybody in the house, give a warm round of applause For the Notorious B.I.G The Notorious B.I.G., ladies and gentlemen give it up for him y'all [Verse 1] A nigga never been as broke as me - I like that When I was young I had two pair of Lees, besides that The pin stripes and the gray The one I wore on Mondays and Wednesdays While niggas flirt I'm sewing tigers on my shirts, and alligators You want to see the inside, I see you later Here comes the drama, oh, that's that nigga with the fake, blaow Why you punch me in my face, stay in your place Play your position, here come my intuition Go in this nigga pocket, rob him while his friends watching And hoes clocking, here comes respect His crew's your crew or they might be next Look at they man eye, big man, they never try So we rolled with them, stole with them I mean loyalty, niggas bought me milks at lunch The milks was chocolate, the cookies, butter crunch 88 Oshkosh and blue and white dunks, pass the blunts [Hook: 112] Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on Just keep on pressing on Sky is the limit and you know that you can have What you want, be what you want Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on Just keep on pressing on Sky is the limit and you know that you can have What you want, be what you want, have what you want, be what you want [Verse 2] I was a shame, my crew was lame I had enough heart for most of them Long as I got stuff from most of them It's on, even when I was wrong I got my point across They depicted me the boss, of course My orange box-cutter make the world go round Plus I'm fucking bitches ain't my homegirls now Start stacking, dabbled in crack, gun packing Nickname Medina make the seniors tote my Niñas From gym class, to English pass off a global The only nigga with a mobile can't you see like Total Getting larger in waists and tastes Ain't no telling where this felon is heading, just in case Keep a shell at the tip of your melon, clear the space Your brain was a terrible thing to waste 88 on gates, snatch initial name plates Smoking spliffs with niggas, real-life beginner killers Praying God forgive us for being sinners, help us out [Hook] [Verse 3] After realizing, to master enterprising I ain't have to be in school by ten, I then Began to encounter with my counterparts On how to burn the block apart, break it down into sections Drugs by the selections Some use pipes, others use injections Syringe sold separately Frank the Deputy Quick to grab my Smith & Wesson like my dick was missing To protect my position, my corner, my lair While we out here, say the Hustlers Prayer If the game shakes me or breaks me I hope it makes me a better man Take a better stand Put money in my mom's hand Get my daughter this college grant so she don't need no man Stay far from timid Only make moves when your heart's in it And live the phrase sky's the limit Motherfuckers See you chumps on top [Hook]

she was lying to him.” “But she is lying to him. You are lying to him aren't you?” Darren asked as he turned to me. “Of course!” “But the priest didn't know she was lying. Afterward, Moira had to chase Jacobi down to tell him the truth and then he hit her.” “He hit you?!” “Just in the arm. And even though it was supposed to be a hit it felt more like a love tap.” “You guys! Y'all are making me skip over the best part!” “Right, the part where Moira is doomed to burn in hell. I almost forgot. Go ahead,” Darren encouraged.

We live for today and have faith in tomorrow. We've learned from experience to enjoy what we have while it's ours, because the only thing we know for sure is that nothing is for sure or forever (scholars are right fond of calling this the 'southern sense of tragedy' and our preachers call it 'God's will')

We have to decide how to start our research,” Ashley said. “Like, should we look for information on the whole town, or just one specific area. Roo and I decided we should all focus on the Brickway.” “You decided we should all focus on the Brickway,” Roo mumbled, popping the tab on her can. Gage nodded. “Ashley’s right. If this is a walking tour, some kids in our class might not want to walk very far.” “If, in fact, anybody wants to walk on this tour at all,” Parker couldn’t help adding. “Come on…we’re not really going to do this ghost stuff, are we?” Ashley rolled her eyes. “Well then, maybe we should have transportation. Maybe we could use our cars?” “Our cars? Etienne and I are the only ones with wheels.” “What a perfectly brilliant idea, Ash.” Roo shot her sister a bland look. “Ghost BMW. No…wait. Ghost Truck. I’m all tingly with dread.” “Or Ghost SUV?” Despite Ashley’s wounded expression, Parker clasped his hands beseechingly at Gage. “Oh, pretty please, can we use your mom’s minivan?” Ashley’s lips tightened. “Parker, this is serious!” “Look, I know it’s half our grade.” Easing back down, he took a swig of beer and tried to reason with her. “But let’s face it--the whole thing’s pretty stupid. And impossible.” “It’s not stupid. And why is it impossible? All we have to do is research old places that might be haunted.” “And just how do you propose we do that? Oh wait, I know--let’s just knock on people’s doors. Excuse me, we’re doing a survey--are there any creepy ghosts living in your house? Ash, come on. We can’t force things to be haunted just so they can be close enough to walk to.” A disappointed silence fell. For several minutes everyone seemed lost in thought, till Etienne unfolded himself from the tree. “Don’t y’all know anything about your own town?” He walked over to the cooler and pulled out a beer. To Miranda, who watched him, he moved with all the grace and stealth of a predatory cat. “Well, I’m not going to flunk this project,” Ashley said crossly, “just because Parker’s an idiot.” Roo promptly frowned. “Where’s your compassion? Parker can’t help being an idiot.

As Gage reached for the last bite of cinnamon roll, Roo stuffed it quickly into her mouth. Etienne just as quickly snatched the cappuccino from her other hand. Giving Etienne a shove, Roo gestured knowingly in Miranda’s direction. “I told you she’d forget.” “I didn’t forget,” Miranda defended herself for the second time. “I told you she’d be late.” “Okay,” Miranda grumbled. “I’ll give you that one.” Roo looked smugly pleased. She took back her cappuccino. “I think we should get started.” Ashley, as usual, seized command of the situation. “Did y’all come up with any good ideas? I brought stuff for us to take notes with.” Parker grudgingly accepted the pad and pen she handed him. “Wow. Just what I always wanted.” “You’ll thank me when you get an A on the project.” “I can think of other things I’d rather thank you for.” A memo pad came down on his head. Wincing, he rubbed his scalp and shot Ashley an injured look.

Why are clowns so creepy?” “You’re afraid of clowns?” “I didn’t say that. I just said they’re creepy.” Miranda watched him, amused. The best defense was an even better offense. “You’re staring,” Gage mumbled. “I can’t help it.” “Why? Do I have a messy face, too?” “No.” Miranda couldn’t resist. “You have dimples.” He squirmed self-consciously. “I guess.” “I bet you get teased a lot.” “Is there some relevant point to this?” Miranda did her best to keep a straight face. “Just that they’re so cute.” “Stop it.” “Are you blushing?” “Shut up.” Oh, Gage, you have no idea…if Marge and Joanie were here right now, they’d jump all over you. Still flustered, Gage signaled the waitress. But it was someone else who walked over instead. “Private conversation?” Etienne greeted them. “No,” Gage answered, a little too quickly. “Intimate conversation?” “I was just telling him about his…” Miranda began, but Gage looked so trapped, she didn’t have the heart to bring Etienne into it. “Just telling him about--” “We were talking about the gallery,” Gage broke in. “That building she was wondering about.” Etienne glanced purposefully from Gage to Miranda and back again. “I don’t know, from where I was standing over there, you were looking a little embarrassed.” “The opera house. I was telling her what I found out.” “Okay, if you say so.” “It’s true!” “And I said okay. I believe you. You gonna eat the rest of those fries?” Gage slid his plate across the table as Etienne slid in beside Miranda. Etienne shot her a secret wink. “It’s not the thing with the dimples again, is it?” he asked innocently. “I don’t know what it is with girls, the way y’all love his--” “Why are you here?” Gage asked. Getting to his feet, he pointed toward the restrooms. “I’ll be right back. You can leave the tip.” “I was going to anyway.

It’s not the thing with the dimples again, is it?” he asked innocently. “I don’t know what it is with girls, the way y’all love his--” “Why are you here?” Gage asked. Getting to his feet, he pointed toward the restrooms. “I’ll be right back. You can leave the tip.” “I was going to anyway.” “No, I’m paying for my own.” Miranda picked up the tab, but Etienne’s hand came firmly down on hers. “Gage and me, we are nothing if not true southern gentlemen. And a lady never pays on her first date.” Now Miranda was flustered. “It’s not a date. We really were talking about that building.” “I know that.” Shrugging, he yanked a napkin from the metal holder. “I also know Beth, your waitress. She’s the one who heard you teasing Gage.” “You are so bad.” With a vague frown, Miranda settled back to watch him eat. Unlike Gage, it didn’t seem to bother him, being the object of her scrutiny. She could only marvel at his focus.

Listen to me.” Before Miranda could take another step, Etienne blocked her path and caught her firmly by the shoulders. “I already told you, I saw what it did to Jonas. And I’m not gonna let that happen to you.” There was cold, hard truth in his eyes. And a determination so strong, it nearly overpowered her. “Miranda?” Ashley’s concern broke the tension. “Please?” Etienne released her. As Miranda reluctantly faced the group around the table, she could see every intent expression waiting for her response. “We really can help you,” Ashley said softly. “Please let us.” Miranda turned back to Etienne. His gaze was sure and steady. “You need friends, cher. And we’re your friends.” Seconds dragged by while she tried to think. She was hurt and confused; she was flattered and touched and even strangely relieved. The reality of her life was crowding in on her, much too close, much too quick. “It wouldn’t be so scary with us around.” Roo said philosophically. Tipping his cup, Parker shook more ice into his mouth and slanted Roo a look. “Not true. It’s always scary with you around.” “Give us some credit.” Gage winked at Miranda. “We might surprise you if you give us a chance.” “You don’t have to be in this alone,” Ashley insisted. Yet despite the positive support, Miranda couldn’t shake her bewilderment or her doubts. “Why are you doing this?” she asked them. You’re already friends, and people like you don’t let strangers into your exclusive little group. Besides that, how could you possibly understand what you’re getting into, when I don’t even understand it myself? “You don’t even know me.” “Etienne threatened us.” Yawning loudly, Parker gave a long stretch, then wheezed as Ashley punched him in the ribs. “I’m kidding! Hey, I’m kidding, okay? Damn, Ashley!” “You might as well say yes, Miranda,” Ashley persisted as if Parker weren’t there. “Because we’re going to help you find out about poor Nathan one way or another.” “How?” Miranda challenged. “How are you doing to do that?” “Well…we…don’t know yet. We’re still…still…” “Trying to decide if I’m as crazy as my grandpa was?” To Miranda, the uneasy silence spoke volumes. It lasted only a second, but that was long enough for her heart to drop. “Look, you guys.” Her tone came out harsher than she’d intended. What was I thinking? I should have just kept on walking. “This is private, okay? And I don’t need any help, and it really doesn’t matter if you believe me, so--” “I believe you,” Gage said quietly. “You know I do,” Roo echoed. “And me.” Ashley’s head bobbed up and down. Scowling, Parker glanced at each of them. Then he folded his arms across his chest, leaned back, and scowled harder. “Well, I don’t believe her. I don’t believe any of y’all, and I think you’re all crazy. But…what the hell.” “Well, cher.” Etienne faced Miranda. “The sooner we start, the better, yeah?

Etienne’s going to find out stuff about voodoo. Oh, and Roo and I are going to research that little boy who died at the feed store. And Miranda gets Magnolia Gallery--but of course we’ll all help her with that. And…and I guess that’s about it.” “Damn.” Parker did his best to sound disappointed. “I was hoping for a whole lot more.” Nodding sympathetically, Roo swept him with solemn eyes. “How sad. That’s exactly what Ashley always says about you.” “Oh, except for this other idea I had.” Ashley glanced hopefully around the group. “Instead of calling it Ghost Walk, why don’t we call it something else?” “Great idea.” Parker was adamant. “Why don’t we call it off?” “How about”--Ashley paused dramatically, her eyes sparkling--“Walk of the Spirits?” As everyone traded glances, Gage repeated it several times out loud. “Yeah. I like it.” “Me, too,” Miranda spoke up. “I think it’s good.” “I think it’s romantic,” Ashley sighed. “Walk of the Spirits…don’t you think it’s wonderfully romantic?” “I think it’s wonderfully…you.” Etienne patted Ashley’s shoulder. “But could we move a little faster here? I got me a lotta work to do this evening.” “That’s okay, this is just our first outline. We still have to refine it. And we still have a lot more research to do.” Gage nodded. “Then we have to write up a script for the tour. And everything has to be timed. And--” “Enough torture.” Parker glowered at each of them. “I get the idea.” “But hey, y’all.” Ashley fairly glowed with pride. “The important thing is that Miss Dupree loves our project even more now. Did you see the look on her face when she was reading our outline? I’ve never seen her that excited about any assignment before, have you?” “I’ve never seen her excited about anything.” Parker exchanged guy looks with Etienne. “She needs to get laid.” “You know, at some point, we really need to do a trial run of this thing,” Gage advised, ignoring Parker. “Seeing it in daylight is totally different than seeing it at night. If we’re gonna get the full effect, we need to walk it after dark.

So how do you like my handyman?” Aunt Teeta greeted her, pulling Miranda close. “Isn’t he a genius?” Miranda managed a nod. “I wasn’t sure your mama told you he was coming,” Aunt Teeta went on. “But I see you two have already met.” Repair Guy answered smoothly. “We sort of…ran into each other.” “Well, I’m so glad. Etienne, this is my niece, Miranda. I wasn’t exaggerating now, was I? About how beautiful she is?” “No, ma’am, you weren’t exaggerating at all.” With a silent groan, Miranda glanced longingly at the door while her aunt bustled back across the room. “And Miranda, this is Etienne Boucher. I’m surprised y’all don’t know each other from school.” “I’ve been working the last few days,” Etienne said. “It’s one of those special programs, Miranda.” Aunt Teeta’s voice lowered, as though sharing some great secret. “He goes to school part-time, and the rest of the time he works. And he still manages to charm all the ladies in town.” For the first time, Etienne seemed almost embarrassed. “And my, but he cleans up good--I’ve seen him.” Winking at Miranda, Aunt Teta was perfectly deadpan. “It just goes to show you--you can’t judge a greasy ole book by its cover.

Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?” “Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker choked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.” “Walk of the Spirits,” Ashley corrected him, irritated. “Walk of the Spirits. And we’re not calling it off. After all this time? All this work?” “All this suffering?” Roo added. She was perched one step below Parker, and was digging through her pockets for a cigarette. Her face still bore some major bruises from the storm, and a wide gash zigzagged across her forehead, not quite healed. She’d taken great pains to highlight this zigzag with dark, red lipstick. “You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.” "You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.” “Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.” Tensing, Parker let out a gigantic sneeze. “Shit, I hate this. I feel like my brain’s ten times its normal size.” Roo gave him a bland stare. “You know, when people lose a leg or an arm, they think they still feel it, even though it’s not really there.” “Will you two behave?” Ashley scolded. “And, Parker, where’s that newspaper article your mom was going to give us?” “Somewhere.” Parker thought a moment, then shrugged. “In my car, I think.” “Well, will you please go get it? The sooner we start, the sooner we can all go home.” “She’s right.” Though unable to hold back a laugh, Miranda came loyally to Ashley’s rescue. “Let’s just walk it through, and read the script, and make sure we’ve covered all the basic information. Ashley, what about your costume?” “I’ve got the final fitting after I leave here.” Ashley’s eyes shone with excitement. “Can you believe Mrs. Wilmington went to all that trouble to make it for me?” “She didn’t.” Parker scowled. “She got her dressmaker, or designer, or whoever the hell she calls him, to make it for you.” “Parker, that doesn’t matter--it was still really nice of your mother to do that.” “You’re a southern belle--how could she resist that?” Ashley shot Miranda a grateful smile. “That was Miranda’s idea.” “It made sense,” Miranda explained. “A costume sets the mood. It’s all about southern history and heritage, so our tour guide should be a southern hostess--hoopskirt and all.” “And I’m the only one who gets to dress up! And I can’t wait to wear it! It’s like cotton candy!” Roo arched an eyebrow. “Sticky?” “No! All pink and fluffy and…sweet. I love the way I feel in it.” “I agree,” Parker said hoarsely. “I love the way you feel in it, too. And I love the way you feel out of it even better.” Roo stared at him. “Wow. You should write greeting cards.

You’re still kind of pale though,” she worried, gazing at his face, running her finger along one of his cheekbones. “And your face is still pretty thin.” Gage glanced sideways, trying to avoid the attention. “I’m fine. My leg looks worse than it feels.” “No, it doesn’t,” Etienne teased him. “You’re just being brave.” “No, I’m not. It really doesn’t feel that bad.” “Well, at least you can feel something now,” Parker remarked offhandedly. “The night you got hurt, you couldn’t feel much of anything.” “I couldn’t?” “You mean, the girls didn’t tell you?” Feigning concern, Parker shook his head. “Well, they had to…you know…test a lot of places on you. Just to see if you could still feel.” The flush had already started up Gage’s cheeks. “That’s true,” Roo agreed. “Of course…some places were a lot more fun to test than others.” “A whole lot more fun to test than others,” Ashley insisted. Gage’s embarrassment reached full blush. Hiding a smile, Ashley pressed her palm to his forehead. “But you’re sure you feel fine now? Because you look a little hot.” “He is hot,” Roo answered. “Oh. Oh, you mean his temperature.” “Stop,” poor Gage mumbled. “I’m fine.” Etienne motioned to Ashley, his expression perfectly serious. “Come on. Y’all know how Gage is--he’s suffering in silence ’cause he doesn’t want to look weak in front of you women.” “Cut it out,” Gage said. “No, really. We all know you’re just being modest.” “Shut up.” Roo fixed Gage with an owlish stare. “You cried when you broke your leg.” “I did not.” “Yes, you did. You cried. You’re a crybaby.” The best Parker could offer was a sympathetic shrug. “Sorry, little soldier. You cried.” Gage looked longingly at the truck. Taking pity on him at last, the others stopped teasing and turned their attention back to their project.

Oooo, I love attics.” Ashley gave a little squirm of anticipation. “Maybe your grandpa has some old trunks up there, do you think? Like attics in the movies? With clothes and old hats and those dressmaker dummies?” Roo drew on her cigarette. “You’re looking for dummies? Don’t tempt me, Ash.” “Well, as tempting as it is to continue this fascinating and stimulating discussion”--Parker grimaced--“I’ve got to get home.” Standing, he pulled Ashley up with him. “I guess we’ll see y’all later?” As the others got to their feet, Ashley gave Miranda a tight hug. “We’re coming tonight. You know, to the wake.” Miranda, once more, was touched. “Look, you guys, I appreciate it--really. But you don’t have to. It’s going to be so depressing.” “We’re coming,” Roo said. “Yeah, Roo likes depressing,” Parker insisted. “She’ll feel right at home.” “Parker, that’s so rude,” Ashley scolded him. “This isn’t anything to joke about.” “Right. Sorry.” The last to leave, Gage paused on the top step to look back at her. “We’ll be there.

Sleepover!” Ashley giggled while Parker pressed a finger to her lips. “Ssh! This is a covert operation! You want to wake everybody up?” Miranda didn’t know whether to laugh or be upset. For the time being, her discussion with Etienne was on hold. “What is going on?” “Etienne told Gage he might stop by here tonight.” Parker’s grin widened. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Etienne frowned at his cousin. Gage returned it with an innocent shrug. “That’s right,” Ashley picked up. “So we figured, why should y’all have all the fun?” “Ashley brought chips,” Roo added, then brandished a greasy paper bag. “I made popcorn.” Leaning toward Gage, Parker mumbled, “She can’t ruin popcorn, can she?” “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Gage mumbled back.