The greatest opening line I’ve read in years: “Summer here comes on like a zaftig hippie chick, jazzed up on chlorophyll and flinging fistfuls of butterflies to the sun.”
At no point could I predict the next word in that line, and the image it created was simultaneously new and familiar. That’s the kind of prose that makes me this zaftig hippie chick happy to stay up late reading, .@SneezingCow.