Here are 7 lines from the 7th page of a novel I am currently writing called Oh my God.
“Even his name was not right. Guardian Angels were supposed to have names like Gabriel and Raphael; all succulent, timeless names that filled the mouth with fruity stodge, like Christmas cake. This one had a sharp, disapproving, spitting sort of a name. A name marinated in acid so that whenever I was compelled to speak it, my suddenly razor sharp teeth would wilfully chew the tender flesh of my cheeks.
Sizzasnip! My Guardian Angel was called Sizzasnip! No one with a right mind would ever suggest the name Sizzasnip had a celestial ring to it.”