“SHANE:WANT SOME SHANE ASKED.COME AND GET IT BAT BOYMICHAEL:YOUR NOT MY BLOOD TYPE BRO”

“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.”

“Hell,' Shane spit in disgust. 'I can't hit a girl. Here, Claire. You hit her.' He tossed her the bat.”

“Don’t!” Lillian yelled, and put up her arms when Shane pulled back the bat.“Hell,” Shane spat in disgust. “I can’t hit a girl. Here, Claire. You hit her.” He tossed her the bat. Claire grabbed it and came to a clumsy batting stance, wishing she’d paid more attention in phys ed. Lillian screamed again and ran into the open doorway of Eve’s room. Eve, coming up the stairs, screamed, too, for different reasons.“Hey! That’s my room, bitch!” And she flew in to grab Lillian by the hair, swing her around, and throw her out into the hall, then shoved her toward the stairs. “Michael! This one needs to go out!”

“Sam talking to a frat boy - "You. O Positive. How many exits?" "What?....Oh shit, did you just call me by my blood type?”

“Shane - who knows about Shane? Planet Shane is a lovely place a long way from here.”

“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.”