Out of nine so far, one’s a psycho who killed four others, one committed suicide, one is a bloody soccer mum, and then there’s you. My crazy sister is sane by comparison.
One of the great things about this country, hunting’s not just for the rich.
Okay, look where it got Alison, yeah? She smoked her husband with a golf club on a hunch that he was her monitor and, now, they’re away at a couple’s retreat, trying to repair their marriage.
Normally I’d say don’t do anything rash, but rash seems to be a genetic trait.
Love is imperfect. Love is imperfection itself.
Last time I checked, human cloning was illegal, let alone impossible.
I’m beginning to realize crazy is genetic.
I need to change. Fetch me something gay.
I have a friend who needs a piece… maker.
I don’t leave prints when I burgle.
I don’t do backup! I don’t even know what backup is!
How’s Vic the d*ck?