His shirt hung off of him like he was 17 years old. He graspedthe waistband of his jeans to keep them from collecting down his ankles.He stared in hor...or as he felt another buzz, this time shifting about inhis mouth.Right before his eyes, his lips trembled. As if he was puckering up, fatraised around his mouth like dough in an oven. His skin stretched overhis ballooning lips, diving him a distinctly ethnic-looking pout."I look like a clown!" howled Issac, feeling the extra mass of his thicklips. Then Béla started to weave it together. They were both disappointed with the results.First, it took a lot of grass to make a very short rope, and, second, when they pulled on it to test its strength, it came right apart."Well, maybe I can't make rope!" Béla whined, disgusted and sucking on yet another cut on her fingers. She had seen it done before. She simply didn't know what she was doing wrong. "I guess I spent too much time being a goddess and not enough time learning earth craft." Being a. More

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