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“What was normal, indeed? Especially for a girl raised in a little yellow house by a divinity, a girl the cats talked to, a girl who was dressed by Coco and who danced with Jay, a girl who took a ride in a flying van, or a low-slung black car driven by a god of gangsters and thieves? A girl who had basically told Officer Friendly, with the fleshy bulbs on his forehead and his big pink nose, to fuck off? A girl who had played Scrabble with the god of cowboys and ridden a big black horse-motorcycle to this magical fucking desert too. Couldn't forget that.” — Lilith Saintcrow
What was normal, indeed? Especially for a girl raised in a little yellow house by a divinity, a girl the cats talked to, a girl who was dressed by Coco and who danced with Jay, a girl who took a ride in a flying van, or a low-slung black car driven by a god of gangsters and thieves? A girl who had basically told Officer Friendly, with the fleshy bulbs on his forehead and his big pink nose, to fuck off?
A girl who had played Scrabble with the god of cowboys and ridden a big black horse-motorcycle to this magical fucking desert too. Couldn't forget that.