“Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.”
“I stared at myself in the mirror. Okay, just ugh. I had to get some sleep tonight - the bags under my eyes had bags.”
“I have three sets of humor. One I keep in a bag of salt, because it’s the dry one. ”
“An empty bag of chips would make a great sleeping bag, if it were larger. Or if I were smaller, thinner, tastier, and with 33% less fat per serving.”
“I blinked at him. "What does salt have to do with any of this?""It protects you from evil.""Salt?" Disbelief all but dripped from my voice. I couldn't help it. "Table salt? How is seasoning myself going to help? This isn't a dinner party.”
“I'm tired, I'm hungry and I have a head in a bag," I warned him. "Do not fuck with me.”