| | | My connection's so slow right now, I feel as though you're all the Flash and I'm stuck being stupid old Mirror Master. With the brown tights. God, I hate Mirror Master's tights.
Oh, and the V.C. Andrews book was probably for an old, white-haired lady with purple lipstick in tight circles like a 17th Century Infanta, with an ugly daughter locked up in the attic where her burgeoning urges build up until she's made crazed and lunatic and murderous. |
|
|
