Prying people out of limbo takes more than a crowbar. You need skills, and a Crave Case of Slyders to toss like goals down the circular staircase. The plus-sized models are the first to extricate themselves from Ovid’s hot tub, nostrils to the increasingly heated igneous metamorphic.
“I’m so glad these stairs are going down,” the models remark to one another as they pass me. Every single one of them says it as if it is an original remark. I smack the last one on the bottom with my striped cane. Something is coming over me like a pink cloud that smells of aging cheese.
TYRA is the last to leave. She decided to try out her charitable debate skills on Plato in preparation for the inevitable talk show showdown. Looking at the flickering shadow of a Slyder is not nearly as delicious as sinking your teeth into one. Join the others! You might become something you never imagined.
I’m paraphrasing here. She went on and on about fear, and also loving yourself, and realizing that you are not the center of the universe. He rolled his eyes throughout. But she seemed to feel good about it.
She also looks good. Her weave shines becomingly in the firelight, her mouth pursed in determination. I stifle an urge to stand on tiptoe to kiss her danger space.
Ch. 1 here
Ch. 2 here
Ch. 3 here
Ch. 4 here
Ch. 5 here
Ch. 6 here
Ch. 7 here
Ch. 8 here
Ch. 9 here
Ch. 10 here
Ch. 11 here
Ch. 12 here
Ch. 13 here
Ch. 14 here
Ch. 15 here
Ch. 16 here
Ch. 17 here
Ch. 18 here
Ch. 19 here
Ch. 20 here
Ch. 21 here
Ch. 22 here
Ch. 23 here
Ch.24 here
Ch. 25 here
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