Erika

“The audience is super-wowed too but also freaked out as hell, all Oh my! What the hell? Is this supposed to be happening? So it’s the perfect time to follow my heart and do what overcomes me, which is grab the mic from Bozo and make sure the WGN cameras are on me when I say: I hereby declare Molly Sibly the winner of this stupid fucking contest as she’s more talented than all the other fuckers on this stage. If you want a piece of her she’ll be at the Reanimation tonight, motherfuckers! She’s making a portal, she’s having a séance, she’s bringing back the motherfucking dead!”
― Holly Wilson

“For forty -five minutes I let my brain shuffle, the outside-sitting riffling thoughts and memories loose. At first it’s the basics : Jeanie, you bitch, how I fucking hate you, you’re not as badass as you think you are; dead Mom, what will I even say to you when I necromance you? And where the fuck has your ghost even been? Also, should I major in theater when I go to community college? Do you think I look like you?”
― Holly Wilson

“One time before the fire when Dad was still blind he thought when I came down the basement stairs I was Randy the mute plumber. He said Randy, it’s one of those days I’d kill for some blow. That plus the three-ring binder of X-rated cake photos under his bed is how I know we haven’t always been holy rollers.”
― Holly Wilson

“No one now will ever fuck with me! I’m the ghost-friended badass who snuck into Mombie’s dressing room, I’m a preteen hellion who emits her own scent : the awesome stink of a girl who bites, the blood-muddied funk of the bramble cats! In Grandpa Hack’s Horror Mirrors each mirror shows you killed a different way, but no matter the mirror, no matter the wound, no matter stabbed all over, tractor-crushed, or drowned, I look wild and dirty always, a dirt bike gang’s kitten. Someone waiting to sink rabies into the steak of your neck.”
― Holly Wilson