Once again, sometimes authors talk on Twitter. And when they do, the results are, uhh, well. The results are something else, boy howdy, whistle-dee-doo. Like, how can you forget the endearing tale of Spider Pals, with Maureen Johnson? Or that time when Sam Sykes became a camp counselor and it didn’t go so well? Or how about now, a tale of skulls and bread and sinfulness and old VHS tapes, with Sam Sykes once again?
