“Do you think you’re special, Perry?” he asked seriously.I winced. “A little bit. Maybe more in the Special Olympics kind of way.”

“Do you think you're special, Perry?" he asked seriously.I winced. "A little bit. Maybe more in the Special Olympics kind of way." He smiled and turned his eyes to the road. "You are special, kiddo. ...And not entirely in the Special Olympics kind of way.”

“I want you to stay with me,” he said. “And that’s the problem. Every time you leave me, I need you a little bit more.”

“Perry, when I fuck you, you’re going to want it. And you’re going to be sober. I don’t want just your body in all of this. I want everything. Your soul too.” “That’s a pretty tall order,” I said breathlessly…“I know,” he said determinedly. “And it’s something I am willing to work for.”

“To cement my point, Dire Straits came on and after Perry proclaimed her sudden (and surprising) love for the band, the douchefucker stood up and asked her to dance like he was a Cajun Rhett Butler.”

“The Dex Foray special involves two lubed fingers, a lot of tongue and a cigarette for afterwards.”

“you, Perry, you deserve a lifetime of servitude. Eons of groveling.”