“Sorry. i just can't seem to help myself. My brain is freaking out. Two predawn mornings in a row. It doesn't know what to think, how to act. I'll have a talk with it later. Perhaps get it some counseling.”

“She shook her head then took off again, and I found myself struggling to keep up with her in my bunny slippers. With a sigh, I realized I was getting way too much exercise. I'd just have to counteract it later with cake.”

“You hit me again," I said, growing oddly annoyed."Ya think?" Evil Riggs said. Smart-ass."Part of my brain hurts. I demand to know what that part of my brain is called and what its job is.”

“I'll call if I break a leg or get eaten by a bear.""Play like a rock.""Now?""No, if a bear starts eating you."I thought for a moment before replying. "Do they have screaming, sobbing rocks, 'cause that's probably what I'll be doing if a bear is gnawing my arm off.""It would be difficult to just lay there and be eaten alive, huh?""Ya think?”

“Since I didn't have a candy wrapper to help me with the bad connection I was about to have, I resorted to using vocal sound effects. When Agent Carson picked up, I started my performance. "Agent... Agent Carson," I said, panting into the phone."Yes, Charley." She seemed unimpressed, but I wasn't about to stop now."I--I know who the kshshshshshsh are.""I'm a little busy right now, Davidson. What is a Ksh, and why do I care?""I'm sorry. My kshshsh... is kshshsh... ing."I repeat. What is a Ksh? And why do I care if it is ksh-ing?"She was a tough one. I knew I should have waited and bought a Butterfinger at the Jug-N-Chug. Those wrappers crakled like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning. "You aren't listeni--kshshsh.""You're really bad at this.""Bank ro-ksh-ers. I know who they kshshsh.""Charley, if you don't cut this crap out."I hung up and turned off my phone before she could figure out what I was trying not to tell her and call back.”

“Can I jump in your body and make out with my wife through you?” I fought a grin. “It doesn’t really work that way.” “Then can you just make out with my wife and pretend I’m in your body?” “No.” “I can pay. I have money.” “How much we talking?”

“Where have you been?"I stepped into my apartment and met Uncle Bob's glare with one of my own. "Out trying to pass myself off as a movie producer to get hot guys to sleep with me. Where have you been?”