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

“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.”

“I raised another shot. "That sound you hear is the heads of moral conservatives spontaneously exploding in the distance.”

“You're the little spoon, aren't you?”

“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.”

“What're you still doing up? You know all good little ninjas should be in bed, visions of homicidal sugarplums dancing in their heads.”

“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. ”