The Hell You Say

A pause followed my greeting. Then “We’re watching you ” whispered the voice on the other end. “Yeah? Did you see what I did with my keys? ” Silence. Then dial tone. These younger demons. So easily discouraged.

I know that asshole you were with in college --” “Can we leave that asshole out of it?” Please, gentlemen, one asshole at a time.

A Pause followed my greeting. Then, 'We're watching you,' whispered the voice on the other end. 'Yeah? Did you see what I did with my keys?

I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?

Like true philosophers I've come to believe that religion is an illusion of childhood, outgrown after proper education.

He was right. I knew the score. He’d never pretended it was other than it was--whatever the hell that was. I’d never kidded myself there was any chance for us. Well, not often anyway. I guess my mistake had been in believing he was too smart and too honest not to eventually realize… Not his feelings for me--because I didn’t think what he felt for me was that significant--but his own true nature. How could he deny what he was? How could he choose to live such a profound and cancerous deception?

I thought they expected you to be controversial at UCLA?” “I believe the Board of Regents draws the line at sacrificial murder.

Snowden said carefully, 'I've been unable to get in touch with the person I thought might know about our mutual friend's difficulty.' The guy sounded like he worked for the CIA. Or Charles Dickens.

It’s more believable that a cop would get involved in solving these murders. I mean, you’re talking about writing a series. How believable is it that this Hollywood gossip columnist is going to keep stumbling on all these murders?

Wanda's sole interests are getting high and getting laid. I can't picture her wasting valuable stoner hours on murder.

My existence threatens you." He shoved me back. hard. I crashed into the hall table, knocking it over, smashing the jar of old marbles I had collected. Glass balls skipped and bounced along the corridor. I landed on my back, my head banging down on the hardwood floor. I lay there for a second, blinking up at the lighting fixture, taking in the years of dust and dead moths gathered in the etched-glass globe. The silence that followed was more startling than the collision of me and the table and the floor. I heard Jake's harsh breathing and a marble rolling away down the hall — which seemed pretty damned appropriate, since I'd apparently lost all of mine.

High school, college, the office, evil cults, everywhere you go, there’s that social hierarchy to contend with.

We sat in silence for minutes more before Guy said abruptly, “We’re wasting our time. Did you want to grab dinner?” He started the Miata’s engine. Stakeout Rule #1. Bring your own car or rent your own car. Do not rely on other people and their dwindling patience for your ride.

Not that I believe throwing money at a problem solves the problem — unless the problem is lack of money.