“shane: so is world war fifteen over out there?claire:i think so”

“As he filled the mug with coffee, Michael waited for Shane to make some sense. Which Shane finally did, holding up the cheaply printed white flyer. It curled around the edges from where it had been rolled up to fit in the mailbox. “What have I always wanted in this town?” he asked. “A strip club that would let in fifteen year olds?” Michael said.“When I was fifteen. No, seriously, what?”“Guns ‘R Us?”Shane made a harsh buzzer sound. “Okay, to be fair, yeah, that’s a good alternate answer. But no. I always wanted a place to seriously train to fight, right? Someplace that didn't think aerobics was a martial art? And look!”

“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”

“I think so,” she [Claire] said. “Just watch your back, okay?” “Nah, Michael’s got mine.” He [Shane] looked straight into her eyes.“I’ve got yours.”

“At least you left out the oh-my-God sauce this time.""Made myself a batch with it," Shane said. "It's got the biohazard sticker on it in the fridge, so don't bitch if you get flamed.”

“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.”

“Cliare: "You know what? I need you right now."Shane:"Now?"Claire: "Right now."Shane: "Oh, that's so exactly what I was going to say." *dropping C. to the bed.*Claire: "Jinxies”