“Dear Mr. Gibbon. Sorry I was absent. Here is some salted food. Please grade it the way you would a jenti piece of beef jerky.”

“I was stealing salt shakers again. Ten, sometimes twelve a night, shoving them up my sleeves, smuggling them out of bars and diners and anywhere else I could find them. In the morning, wherever I woke up, I was always covered in salt. I was cured meat. I had become beef jerky. Even as a small child, I knew it would one day come to this.”

“Kaia darling, Willaim said, nearly leaping over a stand of beef jerky in his haste to reach her. Are you here to fight the strippers who just enjoyed hours of my company? Hardly, she said, tossing her glorious mane of hair over her shoulder with a single flip of her wrist. I'm here to thank them for keeping you occupied. Please tell me they're still with you.”

“ Dear rabbis, I'm so sorry, I nuked your circle dude. Here is his head as a souvenir. Yeah, that would fly.”

“Dear Literary World, Sorry for breaking down your door...I'll pay for that!!! Since I'm here and planning to stay a while, let me tell you some stories!!”

“Please forgive me, my dear Mr. Lightwood--I mean Gideon-- but I must go and murder the cook. I shall be directly back.”