“Whatchoo want?” “I'm looking for 251 Durham Avenue,” Rosie said. “It's a place called Daughters and Sisters. I had directions, but I guess—” “What, the welfare lesbians? You ast the wrong chicken, baby girl. I got no use for crack-snackers. […]

Eir sentences would sound smoother since ey wouldn't clutter them with the old sexist pronouns. And if ey should trip up in the new usage, ey would only have emself to blame.

On their mysterious shores were the improbable homes of impossible peoples. The Great Sea, the Broad Sea, the Boundless Sea; the Ethiopians, dwelling far away, the most distant of men, and the Cimmerians, covered with darkness and cloud, where baleful night is spread over timid mortals.

a plungerless syringe