The day of my wedding, I got a FedEx in the mail. It was my termination papers. I was fired... on my wedding day.
I tend to foster drama via bleakness. If I want the reader to feel sympathy for a character, I cleave the character in half, on his birthday. And then it starts raining. And he's made of sugar.
It’s a cruel jest to ask a bootless man to lift himself up by his own bootstraps.
Though there is something cruel about being in Hawaii and you have a computer in front of you the whole time.
What a cruel irony of fate, to pair together, like Siamese twins united by the shoulders, scientific adversaries of such contrasting character!
I bought a box of animal crackers, but there was nothing inside. They'd eaten each other.
Life sure has a sick sense of humor, doesn’t it?
Could there be irony crueler than this? How, upon his rescue, the truth had brought him here, to a house for the mad, for only a madman believes what every child knows to be true: There are monsters that lie in wait under our beds.
