“Lunch is served!" I shouted.The brothers wasted no time. Kishan reached for the chicken, and Ren, the cookies. I smacked their hands away and handed each one a bacterial wipe.Kishan grumbled, "Kells, I ate my food raw off the ground for three hundred years. I really don't think a little dirt's going to kill me.”

“Breaking the cookie in two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was...it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.”

“I was just slipping my pajama top over my head when I heard Ren bellow, “YOU ate ALL of my peanut . . . butter . . . COOKIES?”

“My one and only chicken, bequeathed to me by Robinson, dreaded the noon hour the same as I did, he'd go back in with me. For three weeks the chicken lived with me like that, following me like a dog, clucking constantly, seeing snakes wherever he went. One day of extreme boredom, I ate him.”

“...my little blurb wasn't going to win me any speaker-of-the-year awards, but at least I hadn't tripped and fallen off the stage, crushing and killing three elderly jazz fans.”

“The day they came to tell me, I was in one of the gardens with Kiernan, trying to decipher a three-hundred-year-old map of the palace grounds.”