“And Lord knows I’d pissed off enough people in my life that ‘friendly fire’ was always a personal concern of mine.”
“Five inches! That’s awesome!” I said with jubilation. “Maybe where you come from,” BT said. “Did he just make a dick joke?” Alex asked.”
“I’m going to make this slow, Talbot,” Durgan said while grinding his fist into his palm. “The slower the better,” I told him. “You’re fucking nuts!” he yelled to me, clearly confused at my answer. “Nucking futs,” I said. “What is wrong with him?” Durgan asked BT as if he was going to get a valid response. “Hopped up on bath salts,” BT said. “What are you talking about?” Durgan asked. These were not the responses he was expecting to receive and it was throwing him off his game. “Bath salts,” Gary said. “They’re all the rage in Paris, haven’t you ever tried them?” “Paris is gone you idiots!” Durgan screamed. “Oh, my poor pet,” Eliza said coming up behind Durgan. “So strong in body, yet not in mind.”
“This soul has no inherent stain except for the one you have bestowed upon it, as the Book of Revelations states, you have no claim on this soul and will relinquish all rights to it.”
“A pissed-off woman was always a good ally.”
“I know my imagination can be like a three-year-old on Red Bull and still I feed it.”
“If the shit hits the fan, unplug it before it gets all over the place.”
“Pretty lady. Why are you crying? My mom says crying makes your asscarrots run,” Angel said.”
“I’d rather go out like the Bon Jovi song.” I looked at him questioningly then asked, “What? Livin’ on a Prayer?” “No, dumbass…Blaze of Glory.”
“Michael?” Eliza asked again. “What?” I said testily. “Oh. No, there are no surprises, our original agreement is in effect.” “You won’t mind then if I send some of my army in to verify that?” she asked. “You sound awfully frightened for being the Lord of All You Survey,” I rang out.”
“I was in the midst of a very uneventful guard watch when I first heard the shuffling noise. It was so faint I thought I might be imagining it. It could have been a rat or even one of our party with a particularly nasty itch. That was, of course, until I saw a shadow play under the door to the apartment. Something was out there. Now the true question, was it alive or dead? There was no peephole through which to look, and if somehow Sir Licks-A-Lot had made the journey I might have finally slipped over the edge I was holding onto so precariously.”
“I read this in a book about hauntings.” “I thought you said this wouldn’t be scary?” “It’s not really,” Gary said. “But by its definition ‘haunting’ is a scary thing.” “It’s not.” “You know, because I’m pretty maxed out already with this whole zombie thing. I don’t need another genre to keep me awake at night.”
“I have come to learn that there is no great manifest destiny, there is no universal order. Chaos will always reign supreme. There is no more order to the world than the falling of a leaf in a stiff fall breeze. That it will fall eventually is a truth, but which route it will take and where it will land are the great mysteries that evade us all. ”
“I know my imagination can be like a three-year-old on Red Bull and still I feed”
“Day One – T-Minus four hours before departure – Talbot Journal Entry 2”
“I am not a perfect man; I do not claim to be. I am rife with shortcomings and my own sets of insecurities, but somehow Tracy has always been able to bring my better qualities to the fore. For twenty-three years she has been the vital piece that allows me to function correctly in a dysfunctional society.”
“She’d look at me, and I’d stop dead in my tracks, never wanting to leave that moment. Do you know what that’s like?” I scanned the audience. “Day in and day out, you’re thrilled to be alive and experience a million moments of love and happiness that constantly compete with each other. Every day was better than the last.”
“Life is short. It's God's fault. Sorry.”
“The people of Cody like you to think that Buffalo Bill was a native son. In fact, I’m awfully proud to tell you, he was an Iowa native, born in the little town of Le Claire in 1846. The people of Cody, in one of the more desperate commercial acts of this century, bought Buffalo Bill’s birthplace and re-erected it in their town, but they are lying through their teeth when they hint that he was a local. And the thing is, they have a talented native son of their own. Jackson Pollock, the artist, was born in Cody. But they don’t make anything of that because, I suppose, Pollock was a complete wanker when it came to shooting buffalo.”
“I focused on the gun. I would show what him what needed to be done. Like you even know what to do with that, mocked Tucker.
I glanced dwon, flicking the safety off. It's a nine millimeter, isn't it. I just pull back the slide, aim and fire. With a steady hand, I chambered the first round. Click.”
“I don't believe your theory that "readers never notice that sort of thing." I'm sure I should.”
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