David Joseph Darke
Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
She hopes I’m cursed forever to sleep on a twin-sized mattress
The Front Bottoms
I hope you take a piece of me with you