“News flash, lady. There are no queens anymore,” Shane said. He loaded shells in a shotgun and snapped it shut, then searched for a place to strap it on that didn’t interfere with the flamethrower. “No queens, no kings, no emperors. Not in America. Only CEOs. Same thing, but not so many crowns.”

“Shane settled his flamethrower more comfortably on his shoulders. “Ladies? After you.”“Rude,” Claire said.“I was being polite!”“Not when you have a flamethrower.”

“Shane: "Bro," he said, in an injured tone, "I had to go out with a flamethrower, and you weren't there to see it." Michael: "Pics or it didn't happen." Shane: "Dude, little busy for pics. You know, throwing flame.”

“Another thing I don't want on my tombstone," Shane said.You have others?" Claire asked.He held up one finger. "I thought it wasn't loaded," Shane said. Second finger. "Hand me a match so I can check the gas tank." Third finger. "Killed over ice cream. Basically, any death that requires me to be stupid first.”

“I only need to know one thing. Am I going to need the flamethrower?”

“In this whole screwed up town, you're the only thing that's always been right to me," He whispered. "I love you, Claire" said Shane.”

“Things that Shane doesn't want on his grave: (1.) I thought it wasn't loaded.(2.) Hand me a match so I can check the gas tank.(3.) Killed over Ice Cream”