“Sex," the driver said, "Has no one ever told you about it?"I took the New York Times from my carry-on bag and pretended to read, an act that apparently explained it all."Ohhh," the driver said, "I understand. You do not like pussy. You like the dick. Is that it?" I brought the paper close to my face, and he stuck his arm through the little window and slapped the back of his seat. "David," he said, "David, listen to me when I am talking to you. I asked do you like the dick?""I just work," I told him. "I work, and then I go home, and then I work some more." I was trying to set a good example, trying to be the person I'd imagined him to be, but it was a lost cause."I fucky-fuck every day," he boasted. "Two women. I have a wife and another girl for the weekend. Two kind of pussy. Are you sure you no like to fucky-fuck?" If forced to, I can live with the word "pussy," but "fucky-fuck" was making me carsick. "That is not a real word," I told him. "You can say fuck, but fucky-fuck is just nonsense. Nobody talks that way. You will never get ahead with that kind of language."Traffic thickened because of an accident, and, as we slowed to a stop, the driver ran his tongue over his lips. "Fucky-fuck," he repeated. "I fucky-fucky-fucky fuck.”

“Okay, you need to eat something. Before we do anything else, you have to eat." "I just did."I gave him a hard look, but his face was entirely innocent. He was fucking with me, right? He had to be. "Man cannot live by pussy alone," I said.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.…“Language in front of the girls,” I snapped.“Baby, they hear it all the time,” he returned and I felt my eyes get wide in motherly affront. Cal looked at my face then over the seat to the girls and asked, “You gonna say fuck because I say fuck?”“No,” Kate answered immediately.“No, ‘cause Mom doesn’t like it,” Keira replied waspishly. Cal looked back at me and raised his brows.”

“I was in Washington State, at a small-town YMCA, when a boy wandered into the lap lane and popped his head, seal-like, out of the water. I would later learn that he was nine, but at the time he was just this kid, slightly pudgy, with a stern haircut. It's like he went to a barbershop with a picture of Hitler, that's how severe it was. We got to talking, and when I told him I wasn't a very good swimmer, he challenged me to a race. I think he assumed that, like most adults, I'd slow down and intentionally let him win, but he didn't know who he was dealing with. I need all the confidence I can get, and one victory is just as good as any other. Thus I swam for my very life and beat the pants off him. I thought this was it - he'd accept his defeat and move on with his life - but five minutes later he stopped me again and asked me if I believed in God. "No," I told him. "Why?" I thought for a second. Because I have hair on my back, and a lot of other people, people who kill and rob and make life miserable, don't. A real God wouldn't let that happen.”

“It [the trip] captured five very long hours. If you want to know why, it is because Grandfather is Grandfather first and a driver second. He made us lost often and became on his nerves. I had to translate his anger into useful information for the hero. "Fuck," Grandfather said. I said, "He says that if you look at the statues, you can see that some no longer endure. Those are where Communist statues used to be." "Fucking fuck, fuck!" Grandfather shouted. "Oh," I said, "he wants you to know that that building, that building, and that building are all important." "Why?" the hero inquired. "Fuck!" Grandfather said. "He cannot remember," I said.”

“Georgie: I feel stupid.Andrew: What are you talking about, you feel stupid? You just walked in here and insulted me for ten minutes.Georgie: That was different. I was mad.Andrew: You have to be mad to talk?Georgie: No, come on—I don't know—Andrew: I could make you mad.Georgie: No, you couldn't. You're too nice.Andrew: Fuck you.Georgie: —Andrew—Andrew: Fuck you. Come on. Fuck you.Georgie: Yeah, fuck you too.Andrew: Fuck you.Georige: Fuck you.Andrew: Fuck you.Georgie: You look really stupid saying fuck you—Andrew: Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck you.Georgie: Andrew, stop it. Cut it out. It sounds weird when you say it. You shouldn't talk like that.Andrew: You talk like that all the time!Georgie: I'm different. I mean, I know how to swear. You don't. It's like, fuck you. Fuck you. Or, you know, fuck you. It's just—you know. You got to know how to say it.Andrew: Fuck you.Georgie: Forget it. You look really stupid. You look the way I look when I try to talk like you.Andrew: You've tried it? Really? I must have missed that day.Georgie: Oh, fuck you.”

“You already made your point,” I say with a mouthful of fruit. “Did I?”“Oh, for the love of dick, yes. Now leave me alone.” “Never. If you want, I’ll fuck you now.” The gall. I wouldn’t fuck him now if my clit was on fire and needed to be doused with nub-saving cum. I roll my eyes at him. “No thanks, we have a lifetime of fucking ahead of us,” I say mockingly. He shrugs and starts to walk away as if it makes no difference to him one way or the other. He’s such a jackass sometimes. Before I can stop myself I throw my half-eaten banana at him and it hits him on the back of his neck. He spins around, wipes his neck and looks down at the banana on the floor. “Did you really just fruitally assault me?”He thinks he’s so damned funny with his wordplay.”