Kate Ryan

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.