“When I am alone, my table manners are rather piggish, but i suppose that's because I don't eat at a table, I eat at my desk. Which could be considered a table, except we tend to define things by their function, and this particular surface is a desk, so perhaps piggish is unfair.”

“There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it's always a desk. There's always someone at a desk, except when it's a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you're supposed to be there, and that you're doing something that involves your brain. It's an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don't matter.”

“I want to screw him on the table and make him eat in my bed.”

“I am like a table that eats its own legs off because it’s fallen in love with the floor.”

“I am single because I am allergic for cursing words and bad table manners”

“I want to be strapped to a table, while a family of chickens argues over who gets to eat my legs.”