“The house was on fire," i greeted them tersely. "In case you're interested."they both glanced up overhead as if to make sure the house was still standing. Fang sniffed, smelling the smoke.It's out, right?" he said”

“Hey, honey,” I greeted. “What’s up?” “His filthy, rusted, beat up, in desperate need of a trade up truck is still in front of your house, that’s what’s up,” was Martha’s greeting”

“I mean, I may not hold the record in cleaning house either, but if I've got old milk cartons that smell like maggots I bundle them up and put them out.""I'm on a disability pension'" he said. "I'm socially incompetent.”

“Come on,” he said, and then dragged me toward the house.I stopped when we got to the porch. “What is that smell?”Ryan sniffed his shirt and with a smile said, “Armani. You like it?”“Not you,” I said. “It smells like someone is frying up dog vomit in your house.” This took Ryan by surprise. I guess it was pretty random. “You’rereally sick sometimes, Baker,” Ryan said. “You know that?”

“SHUT UP. Both of you. You're coming with me." To me he said, "Put some pants on.""Fuck you. This is my house. I make the rules. You take your clothes off. John, get the Twister mat.”

“We humans need one another. We live in a big house with many rooms. Right now our home is on fire. If you're going to try to put out the fire, you've got to first agree on one fundamental point--everyone in the house is worth saving.”