“I crossed my arms on my stomach. A psychologist would have said I was closed off, uncommunicative. Fuck them.”

“--Tell them to drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.--Allow him to--I clamp my arm tight.--That's not what I said.She gets it right this time.--Drop your guns and fuck off out of his way.They drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.”

“My mother's psychologist says I have an overactive anger switch, but people just keep pissing me off.”

“Decent is the last way I want you," she said, skimming her fingers over my stomach, my lower stomach. My lower lower stomach, AKA the last part of exposed skin that, had my towel been hanging any lower, would have been considered indecent.”

“I planted a tree. You’d think my neighbors would be happy for the shade it would provide them, but no, they said I planted it too close to their house. Since when is six inches too close?”

“I want you to take note, Commander, that turning in my badge would be like cutting off my arm. But if it comes down to a choice between the job and my marriage, then I lose the arm.”