“You may stay. But Jessica, please watch what you say and do. Don't look them in the eyes for long. Speak only when spoken to. Yes, sir; yes, ma'am.""Sit up. Arf," I teased."What about her?" Jessica cried, pointing in my general direction. "She's more in need of an etiquette lesson than I am.""Yeah," I said, "but I'm the Queen. With a capital fucking Q. Hey, you're looking me in the eyes for too long! Eric, make her stop!”

“Crying's okay while it lasts, but you can only do it for so long. And it's weird to do it when you apparently can't make tears anymore (did this mean I wouldn't pee or sweat, either?). Anyway, eventually you're done, and you have to figure out what to do next.”

“You know, they did let you have that room,” I said. “In fact, I think they’re assuming you’ll use it, as opposed to lingering in strange hallways.”She responded to me with, “Girl, I am bored outta my tits.”“Can we have one cross-country quest without talking about your tits?”Her pretty dark eyes went narrow and thoughtful, and she caressed her cheek with a long fingernail colored jack-o’-lantern orange. After a thoughtful pause, she shook her head. “I don’tsee how.”“I figured.”

“My my Laura Goodman. I must say that is a charming name for a charming young lady.""Eric's old." I broke in. "Really really old.""Er— really?" Laura asked. "Gosh you don't look even out of your thirties." "Tons of face-lifts. He's a surgical addict. I'm trying to get him help." I added defensively when they both gave me strange looks.”

“I—I adore you, too. Well, I don't know if I adore you. That's not really the word I'd use. But I—I—" I managed to wrench it out. God, this was hard! "I love you.""Of course you do," he said, totally unsurprised."WHAT? I finally tell you my deepest, most personal feelings and you're all, 'Yeah, I already got that memo'? This, this is why you drive me nuts! This is why it's so hard to tell you things! I take it back.”

“Then she (Queen Christina) stood with the Prince and grinned like a monkey and waved like a fucked-up prom queen while about a thousand flashbulb went off in her face.”

“Fredrika Bimm, what do you think you're doing?""Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I had died at childbirth.""Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms.”