"good, bad...i'm the girl with the gun"

Ruby Soho, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Ru-bee-so-ho: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Ru. Bee. Soho.. She was Ru, plain Ru, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Ruby in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Ruby Soho. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Ruby Soho at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Ruby Soho was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

Nisuh Hegel-uh oniichan!

”ははっ、横綱かと思ったんでよ。 お前のお袋さんだったとはな！” (Haha, I thought I saw a pro sumo wrestler. Didn't realise it was your mother!)

gib gems

I WANT TO RUB A RUBY