“I know a plastic surgeon who put the gun/ in his mouth, fired, and lived./ Thing of the echo. The brain in its great hall/ banqueting, then besieged.”

“Give me the gun." Ranger said.I extracted the gun from my pants and handed it over.Ranger held the gun in the pulm of his hand and smiled. "It's warm," he said. He put the gun in the glove compartment and plugged the key into the ignition.Am I fired?"No. Any women who can heat up a gun like that is worth keeping around.”

“For the briefest instant, his brain was the only thing that reacted. Mistake, thought his brain. Then the mouthful of water, mixed with what remained of the almond toffee crunch, fire hosed out of his mouth, arced across the table and hit Mary Turlington just above her bosom.”

“No, I say, it's fine.Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. Just great, I say. Really.”

“A Russian cosmonaut and a Russian brain surgeon were once discussing Christianity. The brain surgeon was a Christian, but the cosmonaut wasn’t. ‘I have been in outer space many times,’ bragged the cosmonaut, ‘but I have never seen any angels.’ The brain surgeon stared in amazement, but then he said, ‘And I have operated on many intelligent brains, but I have never seen a single thought.”

“Put the gun to my head and paint walls with my brains.”