For The Rest Of My

You Might As Well Ask An Artist To Explain His Art, Or Ask A Poet To Explain His Poem. It Defeats The Purpose. The Meaning Is Only Clear Thorough The Search.

I Concentrated Hard And Snapped My Fingers. "you Don't See The Sword," I Told The Girl. "it's Just A Ballpoint Pen." She Blinked. "um . . . No. It's A Sword, Weirdo.

Christmas In The Underworld Was Not My Idea. If I'd Known What Was Coming, I Would've Called In Sick. I Could've Avoided An Army Of Demons, A Fight With A Titan, And A Trick That Almost Got My Friends And Me Cast Into Eternal Darkness. But No, I Had To Take My Stupid English Exam.

Which Meant His Only Assets Were One Whiny Imprisoned Goddess, One Sort-of-girlfriend With A Dagger, And Leo, Who Apparently Thought He Could Defeat The Armies Of Darkness With Breath Mints.

I Hoped They Couldn't Run Very Fast With Those Stubby Little Legs And Flippers, But They Waddled Along Pretty Well.