“I found Waldo. He was in a strip club. He was hard to spot, because he’d already stripped off his red and white striped sweater and was all sweaty.”

“It turns out, my suitcase was vibrating on departure from Dulles, according to the security task force guy, so the police took it off the flight. Everything was in that bag. My contact lens stuff. One red tie with blue strips. One blue tie with red stripes. These are regimental stripes, not club tie stripes. And one solid red tie.”

“Look, Nik, I know you don't like public scrutiny lately. If you stand off to the side, all mopey and such, without a date, you'll stick out like a nun at a strip club." He leaned in. "Trust me, I've seen one. A nun at a strip club, that is. Everyone was staring at her.”

“The rest of what she wanted to say was lost in his mouth. A red mist rose in his head. Fast as lightning, he picked her up, stripped her, pulled off his sweatshirt, pushed his sweat pants down—he deliberately hadn’t put on underwear, either—and embedded his c#ck in her. Just shoved it in because he’d die if he didn’t have his c#ck in her now.”

“If you stand off to the side, all mopey and such, without a date, you’ll stick out like a nun at a strip club.”

“I want to find myself as a person, and I’ve enlisted the help of my clone to aid me in this. It’s like finding Waldo, except I’m only half wearing the red and white sweater, because I’m only half-finished knitting it.”