“It’s a fun playtime. Please, don’t kill it with big words.”
“Did someone just call me the wine dude?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “It’s Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don’t-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus.”
“Please don’t get sentimental,” said Jerome. “It’s nauseating.”
“It’s entirely up to you, Artie. He lives or dies by your word. (Acheron)No, akri! Don’t ask her that. She never let me have no fun. She a mean goddess! (Simi)”
“You can’t kill me with a gun. (Thanatos)I know, but it’s fun as hell just shooting you. (Zarek)”
“Dear 2600: Please help me to learn how to become an elite one day. The first thing to learn is never to use the word elite as a noun. In fact, don’t even use it as an adjective. It’s radically lame.”