The possessions of these Abbies were each a sort of Goshen, enjoying the calm light of peace and immunity.

She's getting a little old to run to her mother every time she gets in a fight with her friends.

[…] my Pirate of Penzance, my lilac love lance, my ramrod, my wad, my schlong, my tube, my tonk, my Jimmy, my Johnny, my tarse, my verge, my honk, my bishop, my pawn, my rook, my king, my knight, my Gonzo, my Kermie, my Bert, my Ernie, […]

What felt like a fly crawling down my cheek was a solitary sweatdrop.