“She's a skank. He's a player. He's cute but almost OD'd last year, so he's a bad bet. She's a two-faced, lying, cheating witch. That's right, Trina, I'm talking to you," she shouted. "By the way," she added just for me, "Trina cusses, which means cussing is trashy, which means my golden rule is to never cuss. I have class. Unlike Trina, the skank of Birmingham." The last part was, of course, shouted.”
“Then the old man got to cussing, and cussed everything and everybody he could think of, and then cussed them all over again to make sure he hadn't skipped any, and after that he polished off with a kind of a general cuss all round, including a considerable parcel of people which he didn't know the names of, and so called them what's-his-name, when he got to them, and went right along with his cussing.”
“Why does she have to be such a...such a...""Go on," I said. "The truth is never cussing, Son.""Such a bitch!”
“Badger: The cuss you are.Mr. Fox: The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?”
“Trina stared into her open kitchen cabinets. She was two and a half days into her pre-date-night ritual fast, and she was about to crack. Technically, she wasn’t going out on a date Saturday night, but Juliet was determined to have a man in her bed by the end of the evening. To be honest, Trina wasn’t really looking forward to tomorrow night’s manhunt. Sure, she was desperate for some hot monkey sex, but the thought of a one-night-stand was quickly losing its appeal. She wanted more than just plain, old sex. She wanted romance -- preferably with someone for whom she didn’t have to fast for three days to attract.”
“How old are you, anyway?' she asked, squinting at him.There was a pause. At last he said, 'Why do you want to know?'I just wondered,' said Winnie.All right. I'm one hundred and four years old,' he told her solemnly.No, I mean really,' she persisted.Well then.' he said, 'if you must know, I'm seventeen.'Seventeen?'That's right.'Oh,' said Winnie hopelessly. 'Seventeen. That's old.'You have no idea,' he agreed with a nod.”