I saw their production of ‘Giselle’ in 1890. I wept like a baby, and I was evil! Boy, when they were handing out school spirit, you didn’t even stand in line, did you?¹

Bonnie and Clyde, they wanted fame, notoriety, and boy did they get it. They also got dead. Anyone in this much pain prays, or at least curses. Okay, uh, I’m lost. I’m angry. And I’m armed. So we’ll integrate non-progressional evolution theory with God’s creation of Eden. Stay with me. Forever. That’s the whole point. I don’t think Buffy’s going to be too broken up over a pylon. I, Anya, promise to love you, to cherish you, to honor you, but not to obey you, of course, because that’s anachronistic and misogynistic and who do you think you are, like a sea captain or something? I’m a comfortador also. Anya! How is your money?

You could, uh, could have, like, a world without shrimp, or with, you know, nothing but shrimp. They’re a little bit bison. You can’t take the sky from me. And what’s with all the carrots? Why not default them with ninja skills or whatever? Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet.

I like to think of myself more as a ‘guest-age’. Hey, no, we’ll just set course for Planet of the Lonely, Rich, and Appropriately Hygienic Man. Now you can luxuriate in a nice jail cell, but if your hand touches metal, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet: I will end you. And what’s with all the carrots?