my cats when I don’t feed them in a timely fashion
owing to recent events I will be moving to the big duck in Long Island
Arthur Conan Doyle: I have invented the greatest detective of all time
Agatha Christie: hold my tea
Doyle: … why does this tea taste funny
it amazes me that people still say they want a “fairy-tale marriage” when most fairy-tale marriages end with the lady getting angry and returning to the sea from whence she came.
when people make fun of me for reading fiction, I don’t get mad. I simply invite them down into my cellar for a glass of fine vintage. they have never read Poe; they have no idea what’s coming.
me: I’m stuck in my home with unlimited free time
my bookshelf: you can finally read all the books you’ve been meaning to read
me: absolutely not
getting really tired of taking a girl out for drinks, then dropping by her house on the following day and being told by her mum “you must have the wrong house” [motioning to a black-and-white photograph of my date from the night before] “Sarah died thirteen years ago last night.”
my new favorite genre of photography is “cats who are auditioning for the role of the body in an Agatha Christie novel.”
reading Agatha Christie has ruined me for all other books. there are no murders in the first chapter? a child isn’t offed at a Hallowe’en party? nobody falls in love on a train? rewrite this please
old ladies always walking past you like “you are glued to your phone, can’t even look up to see the beauty around you” Pam this is a Dollar Store not Notre Dame