“No wonder I'd always felt lost. I actually was. The knowledge felt terrible, but in a strange way, it also felt good. Now I knew why I'd never connected to anything. Why I felt like I was outside the world around me, moving at a different speed from everyone else. That amputated piece of me explained everything, even why I'd failed at college. But that kind of blanket excuse can be dangerous. Crutches usually are.”

“Most people felt lost after high school. Sometimes I felt like I'd never really been found in the first place.”

“I slid back into our booth. My pie was still there. For some reason, that seemed like it shouldn't be. Hadn't I been gone a long time? I felt like a death should resonate, like the whole diner should have felt it. The pie should have crumbled into dust by now. People should be somber. But the Goth kids still laughed over their coffee, the drunks were still drunk, and my pie refused to mourn.”

“Hey, you called me Sam. My actual name. Not Master or dumbass—” “I have never in my life called anyone dumbass.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Now, focus.”

“Essentially, the whole time I’d been here, the security staff hadn’t been paid. I would have been harassing the management too, though I probably would have started with a discussion and not so much jumping straight to peeing on someone’s bed. You have to work up to that sort of thing. Still, I had essentially staged a hostile takeover, which did kind of explain why they’d been going on the offensive.”

“I stared at the pictogram of a burger nestled between similar representations of shakes, sodas, and fries, on the front of my register. I wondered why humankind seemed so dead set on destroying all of its accomplishments. We draw on cave walls, spend thousands of years developing complex language systems, the printing press, computers, and what do we do with it? Create a cash register with the picture of a burger on it, just in case the cashier didn't finish the second grade. One step forward, two steps back-- like an evolutionary cha-cha. Working here just proved that the only thing separating me from a monkey was pants.”

“Ramon looked closely at the little guy as he ate. "Maybe he's Jewish. I mean, if Sammy Davis Jr. could convert to Judaism, why not a chupacabra? We should name him Harry Mendelbaum."I held up my arms in protest. "You're all racist. Now shut up. We'll call him Taco von Precious of Svenenstein. There, everybody happy?""Isn't von the same thing as of?" Frank asked. "Wouldn't that be kind of redundant?""You're redundant," I said.”