“Spartacus," I called, "how's it hanging?" Probably not too well. Once you're dead, had your organs removed, and are resurrected as an undead mummified cat, your testicles probably looked like old raisins that had rolled under the couch. Raisins didn't tend to...hang.”

“No, you're not like me. You're better. A better person, a better goddamn everything. Now, eat your breakfast. And if you open your mouth to say you aren't everything I know you are, I'll stuff that bagel in it. Plain. Without cream cheese.Healthy food--the ultimate threat.”

“Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can. ”

“The front door had been secure at some point in time, I suppose, but now it usually hung ajar by a few inches, the gap‐toothed grin of a dirty old man.”

“You're so very good at that. The temper, the scowl. You must drink shots of testosterone in your morning coffee.”

“It's true. Goodfellow is monogamous. he's become a freak. A pervert. Depravity on the cloven hoof.""Or his balls fell off," suggested another puck who came to the bar. "Or his dick. Anyone who would hang out with Bacchus is bound to get a catastrophic genital rotting illness at some point.”

“And he had it all over Octavian, let me tell you. Hung like a Pegasus, he was.”