“I paused for a light at Hamilton and TWlfth and noticed the Nissan was running rough at idle. Two blocks later it backfired and stalled. I coaxed it into the center of the city. Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! A Trans Am pulled up next to me at a light. The Trans Am was filled with high school kids. One of them stuck his head out of the passenger-side window. "Hey lady," he said. "Sounds like you got a fartmobile." I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead. (Three to get Deadly)”

“There was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind, for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: I am not long for this world and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.”

“You could just run over him," I said. "He's already dead, and it's not like you haven't done it before.""Yeah, but I don't want bloody bits of dwarf stuck on my wheels for the next two weeks." Finn sniffed. "This is an Aston Martin, Gin. You don't run over dead bodies in an Aston Martin.""Tell that to James Bond."Finn shot me a dirty look as he pulled out onto the street.”

“The man who pulled my winning raffle ticket out of the hat said I was one lucky guy. I guess he didn’t see me standing next to my clone, so I replied, “I am two lucky guys.”

“The kid pulled a Buck knife out of his pants pocket. "How about giving me your purse, bitch?" Sally hiked up his skirt, reached into his briefs and pulled out a Glock. "How about using that knife to slice off your balls?" Lula whipped a gun out of her red satin purse and Grandma hauled out her .45 long-barrel. "Day my make, punk," Grandma said. "Hey, I don't want any trouble," the kid said. "We were just having some fun." "I want to shoot him," Sally said. "Nobody'll tell, right?" "No fair," Lula said. "I want to shoot him." "Okay," Grandma said. "On the count of three, we'll all shoot him.”

“He took a breath, then proclaimed, 'Lady Shaselle of Hytanica, I am in love with you.' I burst into laughter, pulling my legs up to ease my aching stomach muscles. He rolled onto his side to look at me, propping his head up with his hand. 'I'm serious,' he insisted, grinning foolishly at me. 'You're drunk.' 'True, but even drunks can be in love.”