Agent Dan Lazar wearily rubbed his temples. She’d started off his headache again, like a dozen helicopter blades whirling inside his skull.
How could Miss Snark do this? Expose his name to the snarkling hordes? “If I ever find out who she is and how to reach’er, she’ll be sorry,” he muttered.
The pain was worse. He was on the verge of another of his blackouts.
A moonbeam glinted off something in the corner, snazzy red stilettos big enough to fit a griffin… or his own feet. To Dan’s horror, the countless lost hours of the blackouts suddenly made sense.
Oh this is hilarious!
Dan Lazar IS Miss Snark!!!!!