Seems like these days whenever I drink, the next day I look like Myra and feel like Fritzl (too embarrassed to move the folder off my face, that is).
— Laura Rosten for STORY
As the clap grows steady, a bull is let out of a pen on the far side and rushes out, twisting its head side to side, a white froth of angry sweat on its neck. It jumps frantically, kicking its hind legs back, kicking up dirt. The clown checks an imaginary watch, tapping his foot.
- Citizens of Nowhere
- Daniel Fishwick in STORY