By junior high, where every forty-one minutes the bell signaled a four-minute parade of hyper-hormoned bodies through sweat-scented halls, Gayle, with her long hair, clear golden skin, and high, tight curves, was, no contest, the finest girl.
The chickenry next door, which looked suspiciously small to house a thousand birds, was also a complete wreck.
The sheer graphicness of the violence is shocking.
At times he gets irritable, especially if he believes that something has been misplaced or lost: Piss oh piss! -- where in the hell does everything go around here!
Piss oh piss! -- where in the hell does everything go around here!
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