“. . . And so Charlie Asher . . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.”

“Charlie Asher: I accidently shagged a monk last night.Minty Fresh: Sometimes, in times of crisis, that shit cannot be avoided.”

“Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, is that duck wearing trousers?Mrs. Ling: Could be . . . . You hear of paper-wrap chicken? This duck in pants.”

“Mr. Fresh looked up. "The book says if we don't do our jobs everything could go dark, become like the Underworld. I don't know what the Underworld is like, Mr. Asher, but I've caught some of the road show from there a couple of times, and I'm not interested in finding out. How 'bout you?""Maybe it's Oakland," Charlie said."What's Oakland?""The Underworld.""Oakland is not the Underworld!""The Tenderloin?" Charlie suggested.”

“Mr. Asher, you can resist who you are for only so long. Finally, you just decide to go with fate.”

“Charlie had Sophie strapped to his chest like a terrorist baby bomb when he came down the back steps. She had just gotten to the point where she could hold up her head, so he had strapped her in face-out so she could look around. The way her arms and legs waved around as Charlie walked, she looked as if she was skydiving and using a skinny nerd as a parachute.”

“. . . You seem upset, Charlie. Is something wrong?Charlie: No, no, I’m okay, I just had to take directions from a mute beaver in a fez to get here, it’s unsettling.”