“Men are the fleas in the gray beard of God, and I’m just itching to meet Him.”

“I enjoy scratching itches on my body with my beard stubble. The worst though is when my lower back itches.”

“I stitched an itch to my side. As far as surgeries go, I’m just barely scratching the surface.”

“Margaret looked up at him from where she sat by the window."Oh, Brother Gregory, what's wrong with your hand""I'm just scratching it; it itches.""Really, is it red?""No, it's just a bite. You gave me a flea.""I don't have fleas, Brother Gregory," insisted Margaret."Everyone has fleas, Margaret. It's part of God's plan.""I don't. I wash them off.""Margaret, you haven't any sense at all. They just hop back. You can't wash enough to keep them off.""I do.""Aren't you afraid your skin will come off? It could, you know. That's much worse than fleas." Brother Gregory spoke with an air of absolute certainty."Everyone tells me that. It hasn't come off yet.""Margaret, you're too hardheaded for your own good. Now take for your next sentence, 'Fleas do not wash off.'""Is this right?" She held up the tablet, and Brother Gregory shook his head in mock indignation."I despair of you, Margaret. Flea is not spelled with one e--it's spelled with two.”

“So who gave him his name?" I asked."Kerrick," Belen answered.Not who I'd expect. "Why 'Flea'?"A full-out grin spread across Flea's face. "Cause I'm fast and hard to catch.""Because he's a pest and hard to squash," Belen said."Because he jumps about three feet in the air when you scare him," Loren added."Because he's annoying and makes us itch with impatience," Quain said."Thanks, guys. I love you too." Flea made exaggerated kissing noises and patted his ass.”

“My beard has started growing a beard of its own, and I’m stuck having to take it for a walk.”