At the perfect moment, Romero fired into the barrel, leaving the monster in a bloody pile of gibs
Don't stick that screwdriver into the live electrical outlet, you knucklehead!
Or will you to the cooler cave succeed, / Whose mouth the curling vines have overspread? […] […] And snakes, familiar, to the hearth succeed, / Disclose their eggs, and near the chimney breed— […] To his rough palate his dry tongue succeeds;
Reader have your Christmasses hitherto been marked with happiness? Thank God for it. […] Then mamma died—and later in your college days, dear Herbert, when you were both as tall as men, but as fond of play as ever—and we used to spend such happy Christmasses, till our dear father died, /“[…] Herbert darling, Lawrence has left the last impression of happiness on my memory—he, who has since broken up our domestic peace, and for a long time spoilt our Christmasses—Heaven bless him![…]”
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