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“An image flashed across her mind of two rams flinging their heads against each other on a rocky mountainside. What did the girl rams do? Faint with pleasure? Clap their cloven hooves? Lean against some nearby boulders, with little tubs of mountain grass, discussing the battle?”
― Edward St. Aubyn, Lost for Words

“Coach spun toward us with a nimble step he should have lost years ago. “Sprint ladders, ladies! I want Grandma Taps in increments of ten and then do that shit backward until you hit fifty!â€� Noah groaned and Watkins smile sharpened into something that confirmed my suspicions.
He was made of evil.
“And now you all can thank Trindale for making this Ladder Day! Right and left Twizzlers, front, back, and sideways! Hopsquats, Jack Dogs, Skip to My Lous, and…Twinkies.�
“Dear God,� Adam whispered. “Not the Twinkies.�
Dylan squirmed in his pads. “Sir, these names are� Well, half of us can’t remember how to do them. Why can’t we call them Ickey and Heisman shuffles, like, other coaches do?�
There was a sound in the back of Watkinsâ€� throat that suggested he was making way in his gut for a piece of Dylan. “Because you shit stains haven’t earned the right to utter the names of those gods!”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“Good. How about you find the balls that are attached to your dicks, draw them out of your abdominal cavity and show me.â€�
“You want to see our testicles, Coach?� Mike asked, making his way backward down his ladder.
“Maybe when I find my magnifying glass, Mr. Brown! I won’t be able to tell the difference between what you call testicles and raisins.�
Mike gasped for air. “My balls are sweeter, sir!�
Lids narrowed over his black marbles. “Glad to know how flexible you are, Mr. Brown. That’ll come in handy for the rest of my practice.â€� Watkins added with a growl, “If you are still alive.”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“From the front, Coach Zawasky booted up his computer. “We’re missing Ryan and Hale.â€�
That elicited a grunt. “I’ll bet those poor sons of bitches won’t miss my divine wisdom ever again after the Wolverine Special Drill I have in store for them.�
“Shit.� Matt swallowed and shrunk into his chair.
“Dare I ask?� I whispered.
Cam’s head tilted toward mine, pure fear reflecting in his eyes. “Pray you never know.�
Matt slid the playbook out of his messenger bag and I could have sworn his hand trembled. “Watkins used to be a drill instructor for the Marines and he really misses his old job—�
“I sure as fuck don’t miss it when you pissants screw up. Because you will. Eventually.� Beady eyes glinted at me from across the room. I could have sworn that was a gleam of hope aimed my way. Like he was hoping to consume my soul.
I blinked at the man sipping his coffee—or the devil’s tears—at a distance much too far for a human to have caught that. “How did he hear us?�
Cam’s chest shuddered with an unsteady breath. “There are theories. And they all involve Satan.�
“I knew it.”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“Adam inclined his head toward Owen. “Two questions. Was I Fabio in that scenario? And who is Fabio?â€�
Brown eyes rolled. “Yes, and Google that shit.�
And he did. “Ho! My nose is way smaller!�
Cam grabbed the smartphone out of Adam’s hand. “Look at those baby blues, though. Piercing. Erotic, even. You could totally be related.�
A grin tipped Adam’s mouth. “Really?�
Cam slapped the phone against Adam’s chest. “Dude. No. Not really.”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“It’s just a shirt. I have no emotional connection to it or the band. I just didn’t feel like coming to work topless today.â€�
Camden’s hand slammed down on the counter. “Shit, are there days that you come topless? I would like to make sure I’m here for that.”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“I’ll let you get back to sweating and grunting.â€�
“You probably shouldn’t leave then.”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie

“I’m only sensitive in the area that counts, Sticks.â€�
“The soft spot on your skull that never hardened?”
― Donna AnnMarie Smith, The Silent Cries of a Magpie