Something happened to me several nights ago, I must have been brain dead or drunk beyond humanly possible, because honestly, I don't know what I was thinking when I picked this up. There's only so much teen angst and drama I can handle; and to top it off, there it was:
'[…]she smelled like cinnamon and sugar fresh out of the oven.[…]'
Like somebody once said: Well, you know me. Bright ideas just pop into my head, and I keep thinking…Mrs. Lovett's meat pies are also fresh out of the oven, yet she doesn't go around annoying people with her melodramatic outbursts.
Destroy this book, let your cat use it for a bed, burn it, do whatever you want with it. Just don't waste time reading it. Better go watch Sweeney Todd and…have a little priest.