“I leaned across the table towards the crumb-thrower. "Do that again," I said, loud enough to be heard over the opera singer, Dolly, my mother, and the smell of the breadsticks, "and I will sell your firstborn child to the devil.”
“If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers," said Tyrion, too loudly.”
“It's in my genes. My mother was an opera singer. I'm clearly dramatic.”
“Do I have clueless tattooed across my forehead?" Narrowing my eyes,I leaned toward him. "Yeah,I think maybe you do.”
“This one looks good,” said Chong over breakfast the next morning. Benny read out loud from the paper. “‘Pit Thrower.’ What’s that?” “I don’t know,” Chong said with a mouth full of toast. “I think it has something to do with barbecuing.” It didn’t.”
“I’ll name my firstborn child Squiblob, after his mother.”