“Bombs Away!" he yelled, swooping low over StregaSchloss. He saw little figures on the ground fleeing from the large green projectile that was speeding their way. "And a direct hit, if I'm not mistaken," he observed to himself. With a tremendous slapping sound, Ffup's digestive overload landed on a human target. There was a scream, a ghastly choking sound, and then silence.”
“She’s mine, dipshit,” he yelled over his shoulder, wishing like hell that he didn’t like the sound of that.”
“I'm not saying he was, like, crying tears of man pain over the phone, but he sounded upset.”
“When he began to talk about Wyndham, it was almost with relief, as if his purpose in life was to tell that story over and over. To tell it until its last shard had been pulled from him. As he listened to himself, he realized that the story sounded practiced as it changed from event and recollection into language, as if each retelling were an attempt to scrub away the awfulness.”
“She would take him to faraway lands to observe foreign ways, so he could get closer to the strangeness within himself.”
“In an endless silence even screams sound silent.”