“Dude you gota get over here Greg sounded more than a little freaked out but since Greg freaks out when he burns a Pop-Tart it didn't give me much to go on.”

“Hi, mom,” he said. “I’m fine.”“How are you? Are you still seeing . . .?”“Yep,” A.J. said. “Jamie’s sitting right here, next to me.”“Let’s freak her out, okay?” Jamie said, mischief glinting in his eyes as he popped away—which worked more to freak A.J. out.”

“Howie?” Arthur says. “What?” “Why do you want me to freak out?” He asks it sort of gently, which makes it worse somehow.“Because you make me freak out all the time.” Maybe I’m not so totally chill, but whatever, whatever, I’m sick of it. “Like, honestly, I’m pretty sure I’ve started doing it professionally. Maybe you should start considering paying me extra. ‘Cause seriously, dude, when it comes to freaking out about you, I am the master. I am friggin’ incomparable, I got mad skills all over the place. And I don’t think this is exactly mutual freaking out, like, I don’t get the sense that I make you want to wither and die and explode. And that’s okay. That’s cool. I’m kind of going through a thing here that you probably went through a long time ago, unless you didn’t go through it at all because you’re just all together, like, you popped out of the womb, all, ‘Thanks for squeezing me out, Mom; no more pussy for me.”

“I'm really going to freak out if I don't get into Histrionics 101. And if I get in, I'll also freak out.”

“Christ, don't go to the Haunted Houses with Ally and Indy. A few years ago, Indy went berserk and broke through the hay bales they had set up to make the haunted trail and headed into the cornfields. All the employees chased after her but since they were dressed like monsters, Indy lost her mind. They had to call the cops to settle her down." I lost him at "cornfields". "Cornfields?" I whispered. "Yeah." "They have a haunted trail through cornfields?" "Yeah, up in Thornton. Best Haunted House in Denver. Indy and Ally go every year. Why?" "Cornfields freak me out," I admitted. Hank was silent. Then, he said, "You're from Indiana. How in the fuck can cornfields freak you out?" "Cornfields don't freak me out. Cornfields at night freak me out. Haunted cornfields at night freak me out." "You been to many haunted cornfields?" "Dude," I said low. "All cornfields are haunted. Trust me. I know... They whisper to you.”

“It’s like my grandpa always used to say, ‘A butter knife would make a deadlier weapon than a melting stick of butter.’”
“Your grandpa never said that.”
“No, but he should have. He was a damn fool not to have uttered those words.”
“My grandpa was a janitor, in the Great Depression. The greatest thing he ever said was, ‘Greg, I just Gregged all over your floor. Do you have a mop I can use to clean it up?’”
“Who’s Greg?”
“I don’t know.”
“What the shit kind of story is that? That story is bullshit. Greg doesn’t exist. Nobody knows nobody named Greg. It’s a unicorn name—it’s complete mythology.”
“What about Lou Greg, the baseball player?”
“Lou who? Lou Gehrig?”
“Here’s a Lou for you. Greg Louganis.”
“Bah, Greg Louganis doesn’t exist. He was a myth created by the Soviets to push their divers to perfection. The Russians realized they couldn’t be the best until they deceived their divers into believing there was someone who was always better.”
“I’ve seen Greg Louganis, and he’s as real as you or me.”
“You’ve seen what they wanted you to see. They gave you a blindfold to wear and convinced you it would improve your eyesight.”
”