Saint FOR WENDY DAVIS At seven I asked to name my new sister Wendy so I could fly with Peter Pan. One Wendy friend here A second one there; she came she went until two thousand thirteen in June. A Bethlehem teardrop wet my cheek when a Texas Wendy rose in stature to an icon. Here stood an unwed mother in a race for justice the world watched another Mary. -- Sydney McQuoid
Best Damn Girl In The World The engine of my Harley Davidson roared through the streets of the secluded neighborhood as I moseyed on over to my second date of the week's house. I was 45 minutes late. My armpits were sweaty and I could feel my button down sticking to my skin. Curse the summer weather that we all say we adore, but can't stand by its end. My entire get up for the evening was sabotaged by mud puddle water that a garbage truck assaulted me with when I was picking up flowers at the shop. They were utterly destroyed. They were dead before, but even more dead after the tsunami hit. Perfect. Every girl loves it when her sweaty dirty date says “These are for you” and hands her a bouquet of death. That really screams “I want to get to know you” on a personal level. When I pulled up to her mansion, there she stood on the front steps waiting for me. Looking like a prize in her sundress smiling at me. Every girl smiled at me before I got to the starting line...
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