Kirt J. Boyd

And there it is! Bravo! I knew it was only a matter of time before Byron realized he had an audience. That man is simply incapable of keeping his shirt on when there are spectators. One Christmas Eve, he stripped his shirt off right in the middle of the choir's rendition of Oh Child of Bethlehem. Coincidentally, the next song was Come Let Us Adore Him and the imbecile actually launched into some interpretive dance.

Now, my intention was to drink just enough to dull the senses, but intentions should never be mixed with alcohol.

That's the thing with Holy Moses: big as a house and scary as heck if you don't know him, but Charley Manson and his whole family could come parading through here and he'd give them you room key for a slice of sharp cheddar." --Ms. Fisher, The Last Stop

Everything I tell her reminds her of some cute anecdote about one of her previous jobs, or previous boyfriends, or previous lives, or her cat, Sparkles, who is mitten-toed and sleeps on her head and can't be trusted on catnip.