Does he ever eat cotton candy for breakfast?”He stepped around the counter to face us, lowered his gaze, and took a sip from the black mug in his hands.”No,” I said. “He’s very much like the Big Bad Wolf. He eats little girls for breakfast.”He spoke from behind the cup, his voice deep and as smooth as butterscotch. “She’s wrong. I eat big girls for breakfast.

Does he ever eat cotton candy for breakfast?”He stepped around the counter to face us, lowered his gaze, and took a sip from the black mug in his hands.”No,” I said. “He’s very much like the Big Bad Wolf. He eats little girls for breakfast.”He spoke from behind the cup, his voice deep and as smooth as butterscotch. “She’s wrong. I eat big girls for breakfast.

– Darynda Jones –

The Curse of Tenth Grave

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