“Death is a lot like prom - loud, overdone, and although the guy you came with was cool, you never know who'll end up taking you home.”

“Are you insane?""Never diagnosed," the guy said.”

“Looks like you could use a hand," he observed. "Or maybe a bucket.""A bucket?""Of water. I hear that's what they use on fire." The guy smirked. "Unless you've got a better idea.”

“What have you done?""Sir," Jack held up his hands in surrender. "I know how this looks. You have every right to be upset.""Upset?" he fumed. "Do I look upset to you?""You look upset to me," I noted.”

“Just because a guy wears glasses and smiles at you doesn't mean he's nice." Lisa dug around in her purse for a tube of lip-gloss. "Maybe he's a visually impaired cannibal. Did you ever think of that? Like one of those serial killers you love so much.""I don't love serial killers," Katie argued, defensive. "Not romantically, at least.”

“Don't you remember? We swore never to go to these things without each other.""That was second grade, Lisa.""Like that makes it okay to ditch a pinkie swear?”

“Lots of things are impossible. Doesn't mean they don't happen every day.""Actually that is what impossible means. You should Google it," I suggested. "Wait, does Google qualify as an impossible thing?”