Yum Yum Quotes

There are only two mantras, yum and yuck, mine is yum.

You know when you see a gorgeous boy on the street and you say to your friend, "Look at him!" and then your friend makes a face like, ugly? We all have such totally varied tastes that someone is going to look at you and think, yum-yum dee-lish, no matter what you think you look like. You just have to learn to see what they see.

As for you, Private, if you mention a word of this to anyone, I'll feed you to the cat thing here. Understand?" "Yum," said Mogget. "Yes, sir!" mumbled the telephone operator, his hands shaking as he tried to smother the burning wreckage of his switchboard with a fire blanket.

Yikes. Yahoo. Yum.

The Simi gots some barbecue sauce in her bag. It kind of looks like blood if you squint at it the right way. And it don’t coagulate between your teeth like blood or give you them funky burps, not to mention it tastes a lot better too. Especially over that type A stuff. Bleh! I’d rather eat my shoes. But that O-flavored blood…yum! (She straightened and held one finger up in a gesture that strangely reminded him of Smokey the Bear.) And just remember, kids, three out of four demons all prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin. (Simi)

Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum. Only now the enigma was a little less mysterious; I was a few clues closer to solving the riddle - but damn, that man would always be coated in yum.

Oh, I don’t want to pat you on the head, faerie,” he said low in his throat in a deep purring growl that vibrated through her body. He bent closer until his lips brushed hers. “I want to fuck your mouth.

I haven’t entirely adjusted to the whole yum, blood, yum aspect of being a vampire. My body wants it, but my head is still like, Ew, that is BLOOD, time to faint.

He was hot like lava and sexy like cake. Wait, like lava cake. Yum.

Okay, no reason to have a heart attack. He's just a guy.... the yummiest guy in Yum City.

Most things I consider fun aren't for the faint of heart, and the way I like to "play it" isn't always conventional. Is that something you think you can handle?" Special Agent Logan Brandenburg

He leaned toward me. Suddenly the space between us shrank. "I will do everything in my power to ensure your survival, and should the need arise, I will put myself between danger and you." His voice was quiet and intimate. "Do not hesitate to use me as your shield." His voice sent tiny shivers through me. Wow.

I’ll be back with the sandwiches,” she said. “But I had some leftover seven-layer dip.” “Yum.” Percy dug in with a tortilla chip. “She’s kinda famous for this, guys.” Sally ruffled his hair. “There’s guacamole, sour cream, refried beans, salsa—” “Seven layers?” I looked up in wonder. “You knew seven is my sacred number? You invented this for me?” Sally wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, actually, I can’t take credit—” “You are too modest!” I tried some of the dip. It tasted almost as good as ambrosia nachos. “You will have immortal fame for this, Sally Jackson!

I sailed on the cold air currents above the rooftops of Paris. I could see the river, the Louvre Museum, the gardens and palaces. And a mouse-yum. Hang on, Carter, I thought. not hunting mice.

Kettle thingies. Yum.

After you have witnessed the reality, you can no longer look at a piece of steak, and simply think "yum".

If I’m not back in a few hours…well, I don’t want to think about that. I might change my mind about doing this. I’m thinking happy thoughts. Creamed dog innards and rotten steak. Yeah. Yum! (Asmodeus)

Yum, this looks good.” I can smell fresh basil. How is he still single? We

We all need muffins

We have a guardian angel, and who cares if he's a fallen one?

We got hungry around three in the morning, and ordered a ton of pizza from an all-night pizza place. Afterward, Blake talked a guy into letting him borrow his skateboard, and he once again entertained all of us. If it had wheels, Blake could work it. “Is he your boyfriend?” a girl behind me asked. I turned to the group of girls watching Blake. They were all coifed and beautiful in their bikinis, not having gone in the water. My wet hair was pulled back in a ponytail by this point and I was wrapped in a towel. “No, he’s my boyfriend’s best friend. We’re watching his place while he’s . . . out of town.” A pang of fear jabbed me when I thought about Kai. “What’s your name?” asked a brunette with glossy lips. “Anna.” I smiled. “Hey. I’m Jenny,” she said. “This is Daniela and Tara.” “Hey,” I said to them. “So, your boyfriend lives here?” asked the blonde, Daniela. She had a cool accent—something European. “Yes,” I answered, pointing up to his apartment. The girls all shared looks, raising their sculpted eyebrows. “Wait,” said Jenny. “Is he that guy in the band?” The third girl, named Tara, gasped. “The drummer?” When I nodded, they shared awed looks. “Oh my gawd, don’t get mad at me for saying this,” said Jenny, “but he’s a total piece of eye candy.” Her friends all laughed. “Yum drum,” whispered Tara, and Daniela playfully shoved her. Jenny got serious. “But don’t worry. He, like, never comes out or talks to anyone. Now we know why.” She winked at me. “You are so adorable. Where are you from?” “Georgia.” This was met with a round of awwws. “Hey, you’re a Southern girl,” said Tara. “You should like this.” She held out a bottle of bourbon and I felt a tug toward it. My fingers reached out. “Maybe just one drink,” I said. Daniela grinned and turned up the music. Fifteen minutes and three shots later I’d dropped my towel and was dancing with the girls and telling them how much I loved them, while they drunkenly swore to sabotage the efforts of any girl who tried to talk to my man.

Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum.

I can never decide if Tom’s hair is the color of caramel fudge or chocolate. Either way, yum. The texture is like a romance novel that’s fallen into the bath, then dried: vaguely sexual crinkle waves with the occasional curled edge and dog-ear. I want to jam my hand in it and make a gentle fist.

She forks up a little nibble and wedges it in her mouth. "Yum," she croaks. Mrs. Wong looks pleased. "It's made with tofu." I can't resist. "Free-range tofu?" My mother looks over at me sharply. Mrs. Wong takes the bait. "Now, Cassidy, tofu isn't an animal," she chides. "It's soy bean curd. Soy bean curd doesn't need to roam free." On the floor below me, Emma lets out a little snort. I nudge her again with my foot. We're both grinning at the thought of a corral somewhere with little cubes of tofu wandering around. "Home, home on the range," I sing to her under my breath. "Where the deer and the tofu roam free...

Food-sharing is an innate way that we show our love for people we care about. Including others in times of celebration is an act of kindness.

The kid moved, and Judith dropped her lunch tray on the table and took her seat. "Would you like to swap lunches?" she asked me. "Yours looks so much better than mine." I was holding a mashed-up tunafish sand-wich. "This?" I asked, waving it. Half the tunafish fell out of the soggy bread. "Yum!" Judith exclaimed. "Want my pizza, Sam? Here. Take it." She slid her tray in front of me. "You bring great lunches. I wish my mum packed lunches like yours." I could see Cory staring at me , his eyes wide with disbelief. I really couldn't believe it, either. All Judith wanted from the world was to be exactly like me!

That an old Charonte custom that go back forever 'casue we a really old race of demons who go back even before forever." She looked over to where Danger's shade glittered in the opposite corner while the former Dark-Huntress was assisting Pam and Kim with the birth, and explained the custom to her. "When a new baby is born you kill off an old annoying family member who gets on everyone's nerves which for all of us would be the heifer-goddess 'cause the only person who like her be you Akra-Kat. I know she you mother and all, but sometimes you just gotta say no thank you. You a mean old heifer-goddess who need to go play in traffic and get run over by something big like a steamroller or bus or something else really painful that would hurt her a lot and make the rest of us laugh" "Not to mention the Simi barbecue would have been fun too if someone, Akra-Kat, hadn't stopped the Simi from it. I personally think it would have been a most magnificent gift for the baby. Barbecued heifer-goddess Artemis. Yum! No better meal. Oh then again baby got a delicate constitution and that might give the poor thing indigestion. Artemis definitely give the Simi indigestion and I ain't even ate her yet.

I got out my jar of ointment. I knew animators who had special containers for the ointment. Crockery, hand-blown glass, mystical symbols carved into the sides. I used an old Mason jar that had once held Grandma Blake's green beans. Larry fished out a peanut butter jar with the label still on it. Extra-crunchy. Yum-Yum.

Face your true self. Your reaction when facing any animal is much more likely to be 'Ahh, cute!' than 'Yum, dinner!

On Monday, there was a new boy at Kizzy's school. "Yum," said Evie weakly. "Be praised, O Lords of boy flesh. We thank thee for they bounty," whispered Cactus. "Amen," said Kizzy, staring.

Oooom-yum?” Bumblebee inquired, reaching for it. “Eeee?” “No,” Cricket said. “GROSS, Bumblebee!” “GWOSE!” Bumblebee cried, waking up an anaconda as thick as Sundew’s tail in the next tree over.

Bella plopped a canapé in her mouth, convincing herself that it was okay to over indulge in celebration of her shiny new savings account. “Yum, this canapé is great. I swear I’m going to learn to cook someday.

this bodyguard may have a service revolver in his pocket, but he’s got a magnum in his pants. Yum.

I woke to the smell of fresh coffee. “Yum. You can stay forever.

In the old pre-technology days, it would have been almost impossible to replicate Facebook or Twitter. The closest you could get would be to mail dozens of postcards a day to everybody you know, each with a brief message about yourself like: "Finally got that haircut I've been putting off." Or: "Just had a caramel frappuccino. Yum!" The people receiving these postcards would have naturally assumed you were a moron with a narcissism disorder. But today, thanks to Facebook and Twitter, you are seen as a person engaging in 'social networking'.

Having nothing left to fidget with, i rested against the counter and tried not to stare at Noah. But i wanted to. He had his jacket off and his black t-shirt fit him perfectly. Today, during lunch, Grace had tunred her nose up when she spotted the bottom of his tattoo on his right bicep. I'd silently agreed with Lila's comment-yum. My inides had melted when Noah produced his wicked grinand gazed at me like i was naked. Luke used to give me butterflies. Noah spawned mutant pterodactyls.

If we measured our affection toward others by how many nicknames we bestow upon them, our pets would be the most loved. Here's the etymological journey for the nicknames I have for Tobey: Tobito, Toblerone. T-Bone. T-bonics. Ta-T. Ta-Tobes. Tubby, for when he's gotten into the trash and gorged himself. Nicknames with origins based on appearance: Bearded Yum Yum, Handsome McHandsome, Fuzzy Face. Then this strange progression: Pooch. Poochers. Poocharoo. Poochacho. Pachune. Then, somehow, Pooch turned into Mooch, and so there had to be Moocharo. Muchacho. Manu, and most recently Man-nu-nu. All these monikers I say in voices more commonly echoed from the confines of straightjackets and padded walls. Anyone we truly love should come with their own dictionary.

Ridin'" [Lana Del Rey] I want to be your object, of your affection Give me all your time, touch, money, and attention [Lana Del Rey] I want to be your object, of your affection Give me all your time, touch, money, and attention Pick me up after school, you can be my baby Maybe we could go somewhere, get a little crazy He’s rich and I’m wishin’, um, he could be my Mister Yum Delicious to the maximum, chew him up like bubble gum Mama’s pretty party favor, he says I’m his favorite flavor [Hook] Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh [Lana Del Rey] You say that I am flawless, true perfection So give me all your drugs, props, money, and connections Pick me up after school, actin’ kinda shady You’re the coolest kid in town, I’m your little lady Your sick and I’m kissin’ him, magical musician, how I’m Drivin’ at the cinema, lovin’ him and lickin’ him He’s my love, the life saver Don’t step on my bad behavior Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh [A$AP Rocky] Swervin’, swervin’, gettin’ all them dimes Tell her I be doin’, I be swaggin’ to my prime This ain’t all the time, it happens all the time That’s a big contradiction, get your money on your mind What, what, tell her I be on a chase Chasin’ for that paper and you see me on that race What, what, tell her I be goin’ first I be gon’ first and they put me in a herse, oh One big room, full of bad bitches, no One big room and it’s full of mad bitches Lana, Lana, tell them what it is Tell ‘em that you doin’ it, you mean to do it big I said, one big room, full of bad bitches, no it’s One big room and it’s full of mad bitches, I said Lana, Lana, tell them what it is Tell ‘em when you do it that you only do it big Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh Uh, uh, catch me ridin’ like a bitch Got the six forty-five, catch me ridin’ with my bitch Uh, long hair, Lana, that’s my bitch Uh, You can tell by the swagger and the lips, uh

Not even after I’d told him about my secret life-long crush on Lucius Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. That hair, the voice, that whole uptight baddie/aristocrat thing... It was embarrassing, but the guy was just yum.

At home, my father ate all the most burnt pieces of toast. 'Yum!' he'd say, and 'Charcoal! Good for you!' and 'Burnt toast! My favorite!' and he'd eat it all up. When I was much older he confessed to me that he had not ever liked burnt toast, had only eaten it to prevent it from going to waste, and, for a fraction of a moment, my entire childhood felt like a lie, it was as if one of the pillars of belief that my world had been built upon had crumbled into dry sand.

Did we bring a lunch?' asked Tacy. 'Yes,' said Betsy. 'It's under the seat. There are chicken sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs and potato salad and watermelon and chocolate cake and sweet pickles and sugar cookies and ice cream.' 'It ought to be plenty,' Tacy said.

Yum.” She smacks her lips and mimes making a cat claw. She leans into me and whispers, “I am so going to be visiting him one-handed tonight in my fantasies.

Toasted tobacco, no additives,' I said. 'Yum. Tastes like childhood.

Ranger is Cuban-American with skin the color of a mocha latte, heavy on the mocha, and a body that can best be described as yum.

Mmm. Prince Charming is covered in my cum. Yum. I can get used to this view.

Saving time is so important that I'm not even going to finish this sen-it's lunchtime already? Yum yum.

EH is like yeah without the y. ASHER is like basher without the b.     UMILL-FAN-ECHA HA-MAL-ACH   UMILL is like yum without

Kendi hayatının üzerinde kuluçkaya yatmış bir Kaygı Kuşu'yum ben. Tek bir yumurtası bile yokken üstelik. Çırpınıp duran; ama kanatlarında asılı ' ya olmazsa', ' bilmem ki', ' nasıl olur?' lar yüzünden uçamayan.

Sometimes that’s all you can do, I think. Hold hands. Because life gets so scary sometimes, so bleak, so cold, that you are beyond being able to be comforted by mere words. ‘Men are for amusement only. They are treats. Like candy. Like ice cream on an Alabama afternoon. A dessert. They are not the main course. As soon as you have a man in your life who becomes the main course, that is the time, my sweet, when you should go on a diet. Right that second. Men are for dessert only.’ Envision: honey. ‘Yum, yum,’ I told her. ‘They are yummy.’ She winked at me. ‘But never take them seriously. A bite here and there is puh-lenty. All three of my husbands died, bless their pea-brained souls, but I never thought of them as the chicken and potatoes. They were always the flamin’ cherries jubilee at the end of dinner.’ She stared off into space. ‘And there was many a time, darlin’, that I wanted to set them on fire.

Which ones, in short, make the difference in the consumer’s mouth and mind? “And you can’t ask the consumer,” says Langstaff. “You ask the consumer, ‘Why does it taste better?’ They say, ‘Because I like it better.’” The consumer’s flavor lexicon is tiny: yum and yuck.

If it makes you feel any better Tory, they were just as bad when Mia was born. At least you don’t have Sin, Kish, and Damien running around, trying to boil water for no other reason than that’s what someone had told Sin husbands are supposed to do and since Sin doesn’t know how to boil water, he had to micromanage the other two incompetents who’d never done it either. I’m amazed they didn’t band together to kill him during it or burn down the casino. And don’t get me started on my mother trying to murder my husband in the middle of it or her fighting with grandma over whose labors were more painful. Or, (she cast a meaningful glance to Simi,) someone setting my mother’s hair on fire and trying to barbecue her to celebrate the birth.” – Kat “That an old Charonte custom that go back forever ’cause we a really old race of demons who go back even before forever. When a new baby is born you kill off an old annoying family member who gets on everyone’s nerves which for all of us would be the heifer-goddess ’cause the only person who like her be you, Akra-Kat. I know she you mother and all, but sometimes you just gotta say no thank you. You a mean old heifer-goddess who need to go play in tragic and get run over by something big like a steamroller or bus or something else really painful that would hurt her a lot and make the rest of us laugh. Not to mention the Simi barbecue would have been fun too if someone, Akra-Kat, hadn’t stopped the Simi from it. I personally think it would have been a most magnificent gift for the baby. Barbecued heifer-goddess Artemis. Yum! No better meal. Oh then again baby got a delicate constitution and that might give the poor thing indigestion. Artemis definitely give the Simi indigestion and I ain’t even ate her yet.” – Simi

Love is like that. It's a real thing. It isn't governed by laws that men make up because they believe in something that isn't real. You suddenly feel it. It comes upon you like an ocean wave and pulls you along in its tide. As natural as can be. It's not a choice. It's not a figment of imagination. It's no different than a honeybee on a flower doing what it's supposed to do. The end result is just as sweet. And when you taste it you say:"Yum!

Cookie didn’t dare light a fire, so we have cold food this evening. (Morgan) Yum. Hard-boiled wood, my favorite. (Serenity)

She gave me her bedroom eyes. I know because we were in the kitchen at the time. I hope we’re having pigs in a blanket. Yum!

When we reside in Gratitude, it is impossible to simultaneously feel like a victim.

a man who looked like Santa, only fitter. Much fitter. And yum.

Chocolate chip cookies! Lemon meringue pie! White chocolate cake! Yum.

Meanwhile, on the Dearth Star... (Yum, yum, yum, yum, YUM-YUM, yum, YUM-YUM...)

No matter how old you are, nobody likes it when someone yucks your yum.

Dallas Bines. Dallicious Bines would be a more fitting name.

You’d work your way through different levels of tunnels, leaving offerings and drinking special potions—” “Special potions,” Leo muttered. “Yum.” Jason flashed him a look like, Dude, enough.

I find myself daydreaming for a few seconds about stealing his cup and drinking every last drop. But instead, I behave myself and turn my attention back to my own cup. Ohh, yum…decaf—said no one. Ever.

Jericho stopped him before he left. He slid the ring off his finger and handed it to him. "Take this." Asmodeus curled his lip as he shrank back from it. "I'm not about to marry your ugly ass, boy. No offense, but you ain't my type. I like my dates with less body hair... and with female parts attached by nature." Jericho let out an aggravated growl. "It's not a wedding ring, asshole. It's Berith's ring. You get into trouble you can summon him to help you get out of there." That completely changed his attitude. "Oh, hey, that could be worth an engagement to you." Asmodeus grinned as he palmed it. "If I'm back in a few hours... well, I don't want to think about that. I might change my mind about doing this. I'm thinking happy thoughts. Creamed dog innards and rotten steak. Yeah. Yum." He vanished.

I ignore her and stare at the cookies I just unpacked, wondering if I can sneak one before she realises. “Stop staring at the cookies like its porn and tell me who they are!” she shouts next to me. Yum, cookie porn... I wonder what it would look like? Slow-mo of them baking, then breaking when they are all gooey. I wipe my mouth, drool dripping down my lip, and finally turn to face Lane, who stares at me in disgust.

Good morning!’ Mom was standing in front of the stove, making bacon. ‘Annemarie, I called your dad last night, and he told me that you have a thing for bacon omelettes.’ ‘Yum!’ Annemarie said. ‘That smells great. No wonder I’m so hungry.’ I was staring. Mom had serious bed head and her eyes were puffy with sleep. But she was up at seven-thirty in the morning, making us bacon omelettes. I wanted to hug her. But didn’t.

From Indonesian and Malay mythology, pontianaks are said to be spirits of women who died while giving birth. A pontianak kills her victims by digging into their stomachs with her sharp dirty fingernails and devouring their organs. Yum.

We should remember that even Nature's inadvertence has its own charm, its own attractiveness. Take the baking of bread. The loaf splits open here and there, and those very cracks, in one way a failure of the baker's profession, somehow catch the eye and give particular stimulus to our appetite.

See pills of every shape and size, Such fascinating colors, too— Some green, some pink, some brown, some blue. ‘All right,’ she says, ‘let’s try the brown.’ She takes one pill and gulps it down. ‘Yum-yum!’ she cries. ‘Hooray! What fun! They’re chocolate-coated, every one!’ She gobbles five, she gobbles ten, She stops her gobbling only when The last pill’s gone. There are no more. Slowly she rises from the floor. She stops. She hiccups. Dear, oh dear, She starts to feel a trifle queer. You see, how could young Goldie know, For nobody had told her so, That Grandmama, her old relation Suffered from frightful constipation. This

People like Mrs. Lee were used to only one kind of Chinese wedding banquet—the kind that took place in the grand ballroom of a five-star hotel. There would be the gorging on salted peanuts during the interminable wait for the fourteen-course dinner to begin, the melting ice sculptures, the outlandish floral centerpieces, the society matron invariably offended by the faraway table she had been placed at, the entrance of the bride, the malfunctioning smoke machine, the entrance of the bride again and again in five different gowns throughout the night, the crying child choking on a fish ball, the three dozen speeches by politicians, token ang mor executives and assorted high-ranking officials of no relation to the wedding couple, the cutting of the twelve-tier cake, someone’s mistress making a scene, the not so subtle counting of wedding cash envelopes by some cousin,* the ghastly Canto pop star flown in from Hong Kong to scream some pop song (a chance for the older crowd to take an extended toilet break), the distribution of tiny wedding fruitcakes with white icing in paper boxes to all the departing guests, and then Yum seng!†—the whole affair would be over and everyone would make the mad dash to the hotel lobby to wait half an hour for their car and driver to make it through the traffic jam.

In mid-morning, Qwilleran set out from the barn carrying a baker’s box tied with red plaid ribbon. He said goodbye to the cats, told them where he was going, and estimated when he would return. The more you talk to cats, he believed, the smarter they become. Koko was disturbingly smart. Qwilleran called him a fine fellow and had a great deal of respect for him. Yum Yum was a dainty little female with winning ways and a fondness for laps, the contents of wastebaskets, and small shiny objects she could hide under the rug. He gave them some parting instructions. “Don’t answer the phone. Don’t pull the plug on the refrigerator. Don’t open the door to poll-takers.” They looked at him blankly.

Your name?” he prompted again, releasing my shoulders and standing back up straight. It was then I realized again just how very tall he was. A frame that must have been close to six-four filled out a charcoal-gray suit in a way that made me wonder just how much time he spent wearing a suit and how much time he spent at the gym. “Yum,” I whispered before I could stop to think. “Your name is Yum?

Have you lost your teeny tiny mind, you too-tall, too-skinny, too-crazy jerk?” “Oh, look who’s talking, Miss Let’s Blunder Around the Time Stream and Hang the Consequences! Thanks to you, we’ve got a dead Marc and a live Marc in the same timeline . . . in the same house! Thanks to you, I got chomped on by a dim, blonde, undead, selfish, whorish, blood-sucking leech when I was minding my own business in the past.” “Don’t you call me dim!” “Um. Everyone. Perhaps we should—” Tina began. “Wait, when did this happen?” Marc asked. He had the look of a man desperately trying to buy a vowel. “Past, an hour ago? Past, last year? Help me out.” “Oh, biiiiig surprise!” Laura threw her (perfectly manicured) hands in the air. “Let me guess, you were soooo busy banging your dead husband that you haven’t had time to tell anybody anything.” “I was getting to it,” I whined. “Then after not telling anyone anything and not being proactive—or even active!—you grow up to destroy the world and bring about eternal nuclear winter or whatever the heck that was and how do you deal with your foreknowledge of terrible events to come? Have sex!” “An affirmation of life?” Sinclair suggested. Never, I repeat, never had I loved him more. I was torn between slugging my sister and blowing my husband. Hmm. Laura might have a point about my priorities . . . but jeez. Look at him. Yum. “—even do it and what do you have to say for yourself? Huh?” “You’re just uptight, repressed, smug, antisex, and jealous, you Antichristing morally superior, fundamentally evil bitch.” Laura and Marc gasped. My husband groaned.

Hidden under wild ferns on Howth. Below us bay sleeping sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips open, kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweet and sour with spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft, warm, sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her; eyes, her lips, her stretched neck, beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me. Me. And me now. Stuck, the flies buzzed.

When ranked by the size of their labor force, in 1960 11 out of America’s 15 largest companies (led by GM, Ford, GE, and United States Steel) were producers of goods employing more than 2.1 million workers; by 2010 just two makers of goods, HP and GE, employing about 600,000 people, were among the top 15, and the group is now dominated by retailers and service-providing firms (Walmart, UPS, McDonald’s, Yum, Target).

At home, my father ate all the most burnt pieces of toast. “Yum!” he’d say, and “Charcoal! Good for you!” and “Burnt toast! My favorite!” and he’d eat it all up. When I was much older he confessed to me that he had not ever liked burnt toast, had only eaten it to prevent it from going to waste, and, for a fraction of a moment, my entire childhood felt like a lie: it was as if one of the pillars of belief that my world had been built upon had crumbled into dry sand.

The Domizien closed in on her, swords and daggers poised. She launched forward, her sword piercing a demon’s heart, and reminding her of one of those cultured meat shish kebabs she used to devour after class. Yum. She swung the Ngulu to her right, decapitating not one but two creatures and using the momentum to spin-kick a fourth demon, knocking it out. She ducked, a sword missing her neck by a whisker before she shish kebabbed the last demon and took off toward Shadow.

The main medicinal species that most people use, Prefix-or-not-cordyceps sinensis, is a parasite on caterpillars, specifically the larvae of the ghost moth (which is why it is sometimes called the caterpillar fungus). The fungal spores invade the caterpillar (which lives underground), and they sprout into active mycelia (which spread throughout the caterpillar body via the circulatory system), eventually killing the caterpillar (which then mummifies). The mycelia ultimately fill the corpse, leaving the exoskeleton intact, and the mushroom sprouts from the body (via the head) the next summer, and, hey, we got medicine. (Yum!)

You’re like a Boy Scout, huh?” It’s my attempt at flirting—probably only slightly less effective than Dirty Dancing’s “I carried a watermelon.” He does the mouth-quirk thing again. “Not even close.” There’s a bad-boy edge in the way he says it—a heavy hint of the forbidden—that gets my heart pounding and my jaw eager to drop. To cover my reaction, I nod vigorously. “Right, me neither . . . Never been a—” Too vigorously. So vigorously that my elbow slips in the flour on the counter and I almost knock myself unconscious. But Logan’s not only big and brawny—he’s quick. Fast enough to catch me by the arm and waist to steady me before I bash the side of my head against the butcher block. “Are you all right, Ellie?” He leans down, looking at me intently—a look I’ll see in my dreams tonight . . . assuming I can sleep. And, wow, Logan has great eyelashes. Thick and lengthy and midnight black. I bet they’re not the only part of him that’s thick and lengthy. My gaze darts down to his promised land, where his pants are just tight enough to confirm my suspicions—this bodyguard may have a service revolver in his pocket, but he’s got a magnum in his pants. Yum. “Yeah, I’m good.” I sigh. “Just . . . you know . . . tired. But I’m cool . . . totally cool.” And I shake it off, like I actually am

Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun’s heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion’s head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you’ll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman’s breasts full in her blouse of nun’s veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me. Me. And me now. Stuck, the flies buzzed.

Hey, hey, just a little scare.” Said Nico, backing away from a very guarded Katty. “Gotta get used to those if your going to be a Vampire. Just wanted to see if you were on your game. As far as I can tell, you are.” Katty immediately retreated, putting her dagger back inside of her purse. Now instead of stabbing Nico in his chest, she slapped him hard across his arm. “Jerk! Don't ever do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” After her heart stopped fluttering for a moment, Katty drew her attention towards Nico and what he was wearing. Nico was lookin' pretty hot tonight. Jumping out and scaring her, now took second place. For what she saw before her was nothing less than a dark, Gothic dream. Mmm...oh yes..Yum..Yum..Yum!

Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman’s breasts full in her blouse of nun’s veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me.

This work is the link between my Dear Natalie piece and my upcoming Agatha work. It bridges that lapse in time and shows how my thinking has changed. It shows me telling a story through the surreal and trying to use thought fragments alone to show a tortured existence. This piece was written after the Dear Natalies and before the Agatha mystery, but it is meant to be read after you’ve already read both. This book is a bridge between two books, which would make it a bridge between two bridges. That’s strange, but I’ve seen stranger. Like the time I woke up in a fish tank, having morphed into a goldfish during my sleep. I still fear the sound of a flushing toilet, and since then I refuse to let myself fall asleep while wearing flippers. This book is 3,088 words of pure nonsense, strung together like pearls hurled at bacon. Yum!

Fresh seafood stock made from shrimp and crab... It's hot and spicy- and at the same time, mellow and savory! Visions of lush mountains, cool springs and the vast ocean instantly come to mind! She brought out the very best flavors of each and every ingredient she used! "I started with the fresh fish and veggies you had on hand... ... and then simmered them in a stock I made from seafood trimmings until they were tender. Then I added fresh shrimp and let it simmer... seasoning it with a special blend I made from spices, herbs like thyme and bay leaves, and a base of Worcestershire sauce. I snuck in a dash of soy sauce, too, to tie the Japanese ingredients together with the European spices I used. Overall, I think I managed to make a curry sauce that is mellow enough for children to enjoy and yet flavorful enough for adults to love!" "Yum! Good stuff!" "What a surprise! To take the ingredients we use here every day and to create something out of left field like this!" "You got that right! This is a really delicious dish, no two ways about it. But what's got me confused... ... is why it seems to have hit him way harder than any of us! What on earth is going on?!" This... this dish. It... it tastes just like home! It looks like curry, but it ain't! It's gumbo!" Gumbo is a family dish famously served in the American South along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. A thick and spicy stew, it's generally served over steamed rice. At first glance, it closely resembles Japan's take on curry... but the gumbo recipe doesn't call for curry powder. Its defining characteristic is that it uses okra as its thickener. *A possible origin for the word "gumbo" is the Bantu word for okra-Ngombu.*

And mayonnaise is the whitest food.” “Mayonnaise isn’t a food.” “How is it not a food?” “No one eats just mayo straight from the jar. It’s a sauce.” “Weak sauce.” “So that’s your definition of food? What about peanut butter?” “Of course peanut butter’s a food. Don’t you ever eat it straight from the jar?” “Well, yeah.” “What if something’s gross unless you put other stuff on it? Like, no one eats plain oatmeal, right? Is it a food?” “Plain oatmeal is communist.” “Pickled eggs are for serial killers.” “Nasty. Who’d eat a pickled egg?” “Exactly! It’s like eating a giant eyeball.” “Pickled eggs dipped in mayo. Yum.” “If you ever open a fridge and there’s nothing but pickled eggs and mayo, run for your life. Hundred percent chance you’re at a serial killer’s house.” We were back to being ridiculous, like at most of our sleepovers. Every time I laughed, the rock grew smaller.

Your charming charm is a super sexy mega power that is simply impossible to overcome. Sweetest gourmet, I adore your gorgeous body, when I see you, only one word sounds in my head: yum, I will give myself completely to you. I will always love only you unconsciously, unconsciously, your gently erotic image sat in the depths of my mind completely. From your amazingly contagious beauty, your mouth opens and speechless is lost. Dizzyingly, stunningly beautiful, you are like a giant tornado, from which everything attracts you. And the heart and soul yearn all the time only for you. It doesn't matter if you love me or not, the main thing is that I still love you, and in my subconscious mind, I will only love you forever. Your luxurious appearance of the highest quality, this is a workshop, the filigree work of Mother Nature, this is just a masterpiece that constitutes a unique example of true beauty, you have no equal, you are a girl of high caliber. You are absolutely beautiful to such an extent, so beautiful, so exotic, erotic, and your image sounds poetic like very beautiful music of love, that I’m just afraid and shy to come to you, I’m afraid to talk to you, as if standing next to a goddess, or with a super mega star, a world scale model that even aliens probably know. My heart beats more often, I can’t talk normally, from excitement, goosebumps all over my body, and it just shakes. All these are symptoms of true love for you, well, simply: oh), wow). To be your boyfriend and husband is the greatest honor in the world, he knelt before you with flowers in his hands. Your appearance is perfect just like Barbie. You are so beautiful that only you want to have sex forever, countless, infinite number of times. You are unattainable, you are like a star whose light of the soul, like a searchlight, illuminates me in the deep darkness of solitude. In love with you thorough. You are simply amazingly beautiful. You are the best of the best. Goddess of all goddesses, empress of all empresses, queen of all queens. More beautiful you just can not imagine a girl. Sexier than you just can not be anything. Beautiful soul just is not found. There was nothing more perfect than you and never will be, simply because I think so. Laponka, I'm your faithful fan, you are my only idol, idol, icon of beauty. It doesn't matter who you are, I will accept you any. Because in any case I am eager to be only with you. You have a sexy smile, and your sensual look is just awesome. And from your voice and look a pleasant shiver all over your body. You are special, the best that is in all worlds, universes and dimensions. You're just a sight for sore eyes. To you I feel the most powerful, love and sexual inclination. You're cooler than any Viagra and afrodosiak. From your beauty just cling to the constraints and embarrassment.

He's like a little boy again now for the first time in years because he's like let out of school, no job, the bills paid, nothing to do but gratefully amuse me, his eyes are shining -- In fact ever since he's come out of San Quentin there's been something hauntedly boyish about him as tho prison walls had taken all the adult dark tenseness out of him -- In fact every evening after supper in the cell he shared with the quiet gunman he'd bent his serious head to a daily letter or at least every-other-day letter full of philosophical and religious musings to his mistress Billie... And when you're in bed in jail after lights out and you're not sleepy there's ample time to just remember the world and indeed savor its sweetness if any (altho it's always sweet to remember it in jail tho harder in prison, as Genet shows) with the result that he'd not only come to a chastisement of his bashing bitternesses (and of course it's always good to get away from alcohol and excessive smoking for two years) (and all that regular sleep) he was just like a kid again, but as I say that haunting kidlikeness I think all ex cons seem to have when they've just come out -- In seeking to severely penalize criminals society by putting the criminals away behind safe walls actually provide them with the means of greater strength for future atrocities glorious and otherwise -- "Well I'll be damned" he keeps saying as he sees those bluffs and cliffs and hanging vines and dead trees, "you mean to tell me you ben alone here for three weeks, why I wouldn't dare that... must be awful at night ... looka that old mule down there... man, dig the redwood country way back in... reminds me of old Colorady b'god when I used to steal a car every day and drive out to hills like this with a fresh little high school sumptin" -- "Yum Yum, " says Dave Wain emphatically turning that big goofy look to us from his driving wheel with his big mad feverish shining eyes full of yumyum and yabyum too --

What luxury ingredient will it be this year? Matsutake mushrooms? "Returning" Skipjack? Fresh soba?" "IT'S MACKEREL PIKE!" "Really? Pike?!" "Umm... that's kind of a letdown, to be honest. They're such common fish..." "Not so fast, folks. It is true that throughout Japanese history, pike was viewed as a common fish that only the peasantry ate. But recently, high-class restaurants have begun serving it... ... and it now appears on the menus of restaurants across the world. It has become an unspoken representative of the Fall Fishing Season. A dish that uses pike in some way... ... is the theme for the final round of this year's Fall Classic!" "Mmm, pike! The first thing that springs to mind is yummy salt-grilled pike! The crispy skin... the hot, succulent meat... the savory smell of its juices... A dollop of grated daikon radish on top, and it's yum, yum, yum!" "It's been showing up on sushi menus recently too. That's a general ingredient for you. You can do tons of stuff with it." "As you all know, pike can be used in a wide variety of dishes. But strangely enough, this one ingredient... ... has connections to all three of our contestants. A pike.. ... with its fatty meat is known for its robust fragrance. It is a prized ingredient in seafood dishes across the world. And it has a long history of use in what is viewed as common cuisine!" "Oho! It has facets that appeal to all three chefs." "That means it's an ingredient that can play to each of their strengths!

DAVE HEBERT HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Thanks for the add! SHANE: Like we discussed in the meeting earlier, I think the Valentine’s Day party should DEFINITELY include a secret Valentine exchange. Also, my little sis is pretty crafty, so she can help out with any decorations, cards, etc etc. VERONIKA: I love secrets :D DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. BRENDA KOWALSKY HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Glad to be back in the chat! Thanks, B. DIANA: Sorry, guys. Brenda accidentally added Red Birch resident 2B. She’s asked me to correct the error. DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. RALPH ROBARDS HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. RALPH: Shane, not sure why you got removed before? Diana, not sure what the error was? Anyway, re-adding you. SHANE: Ralph, my man! Appreciate the add. RALPH ROBARDS HAS BEEN REMOVED AS AN ADMIN OF THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIEGO GOMEZ HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. SHANE: Regarding the spring barbecue, Gustav says he’s able to offer a deal if we go to him for all our sausage needs. VERONIKA: Yum! You really know how to whet a girl’s appetite :D CELESTE: How tasty! DIANA DIXON HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. NIALL GENTRY HAS ADDED SHANE LINDLEY TO THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. DIANA: Niall, did Shane tell you about the drum set he just bought?? NIALL GENTRY HAS REMOVED SHANE LINDLEY FROM THE GROUP NEIGHBORS. THE END

TIO TITO’S SUBLIME LIME BAR COOKIES Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. ½ cup finely-chopped coconut (measure after chopping—pack it down when you measure it) 1 cup cold salted butter (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound) ½ cup powdered (confectioners) sugar (no need to sift unless it’s got big lumps) 2 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down when you measure it)   4 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 2 cups white (granulated) sugar cup lime juice (freshly squeezed is best) cup vodka (I used Tito’s Handmade Vodka) ½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking powder ½ cup all-purpose flour (pack it down when you measure it) Powdered (confectioners) sugar to sprinkle on top Coconut Crust: To get your half-cup of finely-chopped coconut, you will need to put approximately ¾ cup of shredded coconut in the bowl of a food processor. (The coconut will pack down more when it’s finely-chopped so you’ll need more of the stuff out of the package to get the half-cup you need for this recipe.) Chop the shredded coconut up finely with the steel blade. Pour it out into a bowl and measure out ½ cup, packing it down when you measure it. Return the half-cup of finely chopped coconut to the food processor. (You can also do this by spreading out the shredded coconut on a cutting board and chopping it finely by hand.) Cut each stick of butter into eight pieces and arrange them in the bowl of the food processor on top of the chopped coconut. Sprinkle the powdered sugar and the flour on top of that. Zoop it all up with an on-and-off motion of the steel blade until it resembles coarse cornmeal. Prepare a 9-inch by 13-inch rectangular cake pan by spraying it with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, for even easier removal, line the cake pan with heavy-duty foil and spray that with Pam. (Then all you have to do is lift the bar cookies out when they’re cool, peel off the foil, and cut them up into pieces.) Sprinkle the crust mixture into the prepared cake pan and spread it out with your fingers. Pat it down with a large spatula or with the palms of your impeccably clean hands. Hannah’s 1st Note: If your butter is a bit too soft, you may end up with a mass that balls up and clings to the food processor bowl. That’s okay. Just scoop it up and spread it out in the bottom of your prepared pan. (You can also do this in a bowl with a fork or a pie crust blender if you prefer.) Hannah’s 2nd Note: Don’t wash your food processor quite yet. You’ll need it to make the lime layer. (The same applies to your bowl and fork if you make the crust by hand.) Bake your coconut crust at 350 degrees F. for 15 minutes. While your crust is baking, prepare the lime layer. Lime Layer: Combine the eggs with the white sugar. (You can use your food processor and the steel blade to do this, or you can do it by hand in a bowl.) Add the lime juice, vodka, salt, and baking powder. Mix thoroughly. Add the flour and mix until everything is incorporated. (This mixture will be runny—it’s supposed to be.) When your crust has baked for 15 minutes, remove the pan from the oven and set it on a cold stovetop burner or a wire rack. Don’t shut off the oven! Just leave it on at 350 degrees F. Pour the lime layer mixture on top of the crust you just baked. Use potholders to pick up the pan and return it to the oven. Bake your Sublime Lime Bar Cookies for an additional 30 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and cool your lime bars in the pan on a cold stovetop burner or a wire rack. When the pan has cooled to room temperature, cover it with foil and refrigerate it until you’re ready to serve. Cut the bars into brownie-sized pieces, place them on a pretty platter, and sprinkle them lightly with powdered sugar. Yum! Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you would prefer not to use alcohol in these bar cookies, simply substitute whole milk for the vodka. This recipe works both ways and I can honestly tell you that I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like my Sublime Lime Bar Cookies!

The door opened. We all froze. “Mom, this isn’t what it looks like.” Mom put her hand on her hip. “It looks like a group of boys wrestling on the floor of your bedroom while you watch. Wearing a towel.” “Okay,” I admitted, “it is what it looks like, but it’s not—” “Sexual?” She raised her eyebrows. “Mom!” Luna stuck her head under Mom’s arm and sucked in a breath. “She’s gone from a love triangle to a kinky sex pentagon.” Blake lifted his head. “Vote for Team Blake!” Mom rolled her eyes. “Boys, vacate. Now. Aurora get dressed. And everybody head downstairs. Breakfast is on. I made quiche. There’s plenty for all.” “First edible breakfast in weeks,” Luna said. Blake smacked his lips. “Yum!” Mom checked behind the door. “Ayden’s not here, is he?” I shook my head. “Then there’s no lust factor. Although, your father may not be as easy going as I am. So, gentlemen, get out.”  As she left, Mom dragged Luna away with her. Blake shook off the other boys and stood. “That’s offensive. I’m a very lustful guy.” “And a big blabbermouth.” Logan whacked the back of Blake’s head. “But remember you can’t tell—” “Ayden!” Blake shouted. “Right,” Tristan said, “or —” “No, it’s…” Wide-eyed, Blake jerked his chin toward my door. Our heads swiveled. Ayden filled the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded. “What can’t you tell me?” He arched one eyebrow awaiting a reply. The silence seemed ready to explode. Ayden zeroed in on Blake. “Come on, Weak Link, give it up.” Blake blurted out, “Jayden was in the shower with Aurora!”  I choked. “What!” “You idiot!” Logan thumped Blake repeatedly. “Technically, that’s true.” Jayden said. “But only once.” Ayden’s arms dropped. Along with his jaw. Tristan jumped up and shoved Jayden’s shoulder. “Shut up!” I tugged the towel tighter. “Ayden, that didn’t happen. Exactly. Guys, he already knows the Divinicus thing.” “Oh, good.” Blake was relieved. “Secrets? Not my thing.” “No kidding,” I said. “You told Blake before me?” Ayden said. “Unbelievable.” Blake raised his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?" I held up my hand. “I didn’t tell anyone.” “Oh, my God! Why are you in a towel?” A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (pp. 466-467). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition.

When we get closer, he pushes out both of the chairs across from him. He nods at them and says, “Take a seat.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Am I going to have to woo you before I get my slice?” He smiles over the pizza that he’s about to bite into. “Yeah, I do believe you’re going to have to.” With zero self-respect, Amanda takes a seat and says, “That’s no problem with me.” Honestly. Does she not know how to avoid showing all her cards at once? When I take a seat, he holds out his hand. “I’m Aaron.” I take his hand and notice how rough it is. It’s a working hand, one that experiences strenuous hours on the jobsite, day in, day out. “Amelia, and this is my friend, Amanda.” Aaron nods at Amanda. “Nice to meet you.” “Pleasure is mine and just so you know, Amelia is single and definitely on the market. Want me to give you her number?” “Amanda, what the hell are you—?” “I would love it,” Aaron says, leaning back in his chair while sipping his drink. Slowly turning toward him, a little stunned, I ask, “You would?” He nods with all the confidence in the world. “I would.” “But you don’t know me. I could be a shovel-wielding rabbit killer.” He leans forward, his chest flexing under his shirt with the movement. “I’ll take my chances.” Now feeling a little skeptical, I fold my arms over my chest and ask, “Why do you want it?” He bites down on his straw and studies me for a second before saying, “Can’t let a girl walk out the door without getting her number who’s that passionate about Buffalo chicken pizza. It’s just not physically possible.” “Aw, he likes you for your crazy; he’s a keeper,” Amanda chimes in with her mouth full of pizza. “It’s 607—” “Amanda, just be quiet for a second.” Looking at Aaron, I say, “Three Buffalo chicken pizza slices in exchange for three veggie and my phone number.” “No way.” He shakes his head. “You can’t take all my Buffalo.” “But I thought you wanted my number.” “I do.” He leans forward some more, his fresh scent hitting me hard in the chest. “But we both know if I give you three slices, you will have zero respect for me because no man in his right mind would give up three Buffalo slices. No matter how hot the chick is.” Eeep, he thinks I’m hot. “But I will counter you with one and a half slices and a number.” I sit back now, watching how his smile starts to spread. God, he’s just so . . . yum. He looks like he’s quite a few years older than me. Not just because of his face, but there is something in his eyes that makes him seem older. He’s definitely not in his second year of college like me. Not wanting to fold so quickly, I counter. “Two slices, my number, and a guaranteed date this Friday.” He sits back, his eyes widen, and that smile gets even bigger. “Fucking deal.” He holds his hand out and we shake.

With one blanket, you and I could wrap up like a burrito. Yum. And if you want melted cheese, just fart a bit. 


She must have said wear flip-flops, but I heard flippers. I might not have been able to run fast, but oh could I swim. Like a dolphin. Mahi-mahi yum!

Dominika would break a vase over his head when (if) she saw him next, but she realized she still loved him; he had said he loved “a woman far away”, which she knew meant her. She was the first person he thought about from his Yab Yum-addled subconscious.

Oh, yum, my mom is the best, she surmised.

There was something about the scent of apple, she thought, that was truly unique to just that fruit-- it really did touch on so many childhood memories. Probably because it was among the first baby foods so many ate. "This is going to be so very popular," she said thoughtfully. "I might tone down some of the earth notes, maybe bring up some of the brightness." Dylan observed as she made some exacting adjustments to the dials while simultaneously watching their correlating meters. Grace took a few quick sniffs, smiled, and then held the nose cup to his face again. He put his hand on hers and drew the cup even closer. "I think this balance would make a lovely cider or a blend to an organic cinnamon and apple oatmeal," she said. "Yes," said Dylan, nodding. "Hot from the pan on a cold autumn morning. I can absolutely smell that." "Let's bring up a spice note, warm up the composition a bit." Watching his face, her left hand still with his, her right hand reaching out to the dials, Grace adjusted the machine, and she could see from his face when she was hitting just the right notes. Dylan started laughing. "What?" she asked happily. "I smell my mother's apple pie." He pressed his warm hand to hers on the cup as he inhaled. "That's amazing!" Then he grabbed her hand and moved the cup toward her. "Here, you have to try this." Their hands still together, she inhaled. "Oh, this 'is' amazing. Yum." Grace reached for a dial and adjusted it. "I think I can bring up a butter note in here." A blissful expression came over her face as she sniffed the computer's new modulation. "Try this," she said, moving the cup toward Dylan. Eagerly, he leaned in to her, his head nearly against hers, their hair touching as she held the nose cup out for him. He took in a whiff. "How about just a little more butter?" She adjusted a dial and leaned even closer, so that they were both taking in the scent from the one nose cup. Grace turned to him and they locked eyes, their faces together, their hands together on the nose cup before them, which eased forth the intoxicating aroma of hot apple pie.

He smiles. I sit a few feet away and watch as he unpacks the linen bag. “Torin packed this, not Rayna, so who knows what we’ll find.” “Eye of newt and toe of frog,” I mutter. “Wool of bat and tongue of dog.” He smiles, waiting for me to pick up the next verse. “Sorry. That’s all I know.” He props his arms on his knees. “‘Adder’s fork and blind worm’s sting,’” he continues, affecting a macabre tone, “‘lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth, boil and bubble.’” “Yum. Breakfast of champions. Is howlet an owl?” “It is indeed.” “And blind worm must be a snake?” “No. Blind worms are lizards with no legs.” “That makes sense. That’s why those were added separately—the lizard legs.” “No respectable brew is complete without them.” “There should be some soft ingredients in there for flavor balance, like butterfly wings and dove’s feathers.” His eyebrows rise. “You’d eat butterfly wings?” “Never. I don’t know why I said that. I love butterflies.” “A symbol of rebirth and resurrection, I might add.” “Subtle, Samrael. Real subtle.” I catch myself smiling. But if he’s good—if he’s really changed—then smiling is fine. Right?

Qwilleran, never an early riser by choice, now found himself routed out of bed at dawn when the birds convened for their morning singsong and the Siamese wanted to join them. Koko and Yum Yum would station themselves outside his bedroom door, the one yowling in an operatic baritone and the other uttering soprano shrieks until he got up and transported them to the gazebo. Yum Yum simply wanted to bat insects on the screens, but Koko was fascinated by the chorus of trills, chirrups, whistles, warbles, and twitters. The cacophony reminded Qwilleran of the Pickax high school band tuning up for Pomp and Circumstance.

When I slip back into the kitchen, the smell of soy sauce, vinegar, savory pork, and buttery dough hits my nostrils. "Holy yum," I say as I gawk at the tray of croissants cooling on the metal rack against the wall. The phantom flavor of salty, vinegary, fatty pork with the buttery, flaky croissant has my mouth watering.

up and got out the ’greedients. ’Greedients is the stuff you mix together. Like the bowl. And the spoon. And the cereal. And the milk. Except for the milk carton was very too heavy for me. And so I just got the orange juice, instead. I put my bowl of cereal on the floor. Then I poured orange juice to the tippy-top of it. I took a giant bite. “Yum,” I said. “This is the most delicious breakfast I ever ate. Except for it doesn’t actually taste that good.