My toes are a total wreck, my fingernails worse, and god knows my hair could use a registered nurse.

The stark evening sun at the far edge of the town had just unzipped the sky and finally gone down.

This was the kack’s cradle, icky-poo’s bassinet. It was Death and Diarrhea, singing duet.

Life is like a fondue: the best fruit ain’t the best till it’s been through some goo.

He was cut from the scene like a case of the runs from a can-can routine.