“We went to a Barnes and Noble, where I picked up an unauthorizedbiography of M.C. Hammer, and not wanting to overload her on her firstbook, I steered Dumb Dumb toward a Choose Your Own Adventure.”
“You dumb-ass," I crooned, kissing her on the forehead. "You don't share me. You own me.”
“Music took her somewhere, and I used to wonder where. I thought it was dumb, the way she lived for a collection of sounds, for someone else's words and notes.”
“Her problem wasn't she was a dumb blonde, it was she wasn't a blonde and she wasn't dumb.”
“That's a dumb-ass idea." She was too angry to curb her mouth. "You're a dumb-ass." She tried to kick and got nowhere. "Even Jesus thinks you're a dumb-ass.”
“How did I get where I am.” If your answer is anything but dumb luck then you are sadly deluding yourself.”