“Cat's friends seemed like very sweet girls," Dad says."They were the bomb," I say fervently, and he looks back at me with raised eyebrows."'The bomb' is a good thing? Like 'sick'?"Duh," I reply, and Dad lets out a sigh."Thirteen-year-olds should come with subtitles," he says, turning onto our street.”

“I turn to our father, searching for an ally. "So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species?"Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. "Date?" he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears."You're not funny," Bronte says to me."No, I'm serious," I tell her. "Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something?""Date?" says Dad.”

“As I speak, I’m reminded of the old saying that diseases go in through the mouth, disasters come out of the mouth, meaning that words can be like bombs themselves.”

“I’m reminded of the old saying that diseases go in through the mouth, disasters come out of the mouth, meaning that words can be like bombs themselves.”

“teenagers are never joking. when seeking to prove a point, principals and teachers should remember that teenagers are never, ever sarcasic or ironic. if they say "I wish someone would drop a bomb on this school right now," that means they have arranged for a nuclear arsenal to be emptied onto the school and should be immediately suspended and ridiculed. if they say they were merely coming up with a joking excuse to postpone a bio test, reply that all jokes are funny, and that since dropping a bomb on a school is not funny, it is therefore not a joke.”

“See it was like this when we waltz into this place.A couple of papish cats is doing an Aztec two-stepAnd I says Dad let's cutbut then this dame comes up behind me see and says you and me could really existWow I says Only the next day she has bad teeth and really hates poetry.”