“And so the Afternoon Weekday Date Scorecard went like this: gay boys, 3. Bedsheets, below zero. Vatican-enforced check on virginity, 10. Sometimes life just plain sucked beyond the suckiest of suckage. And I was out of clean bedsheets, too.”

“Al's voice was faint but resolute. "Stand up. Try to look sexy.""In a bedsheet?" I complained, running my hands down it. "How can I look sexy in a bedsheet?" He cleared his throat, and I grimaced. "Never mind.”

“The heat made people crazy. They woke from their damp bedsheets and went in search of a glass of water, surprised to find that when their vision cleared, they were holding instead the gun they kept hidden in the bookcase.”

“...Logically, I know I'm being controlled by my emotions. But my logic is just 2 percent right now. I feel emotionally raw." [Mystery] clenched his bedsheet in his fist. "I feel strange and empty, like after a shit.”

“Hey, Bogart. You and the wonder twins back off or the bedsheet gets it."Harry Dresden, Death Masks.”

“I don't care if you wear white to your coming-out party and pretend to be a virgin, but you're gay, Kit. G-A-Y. Gay! So gay, fairies everywhere will weep that your machismo avoided their gaydar for so long.”