“If women could ejaculate, I would have exploded hot jizz all over my manager's face. Instead, I hugged him. (about getting the SNL gig as a writer)”

“I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way.”

“I could have spent my time hugging you or I could have spent my time telling you not to touch hot stoves or take candy from men. Which did you want?”

“…I have all these questions in my head. Like, Could we write? Before you go, could we do something? I mean, is this honestly the last time I see you? But I don’t ask. Because Who knows? Instead I hug him. and I am hugged. Hard. And for a long time we stay that way. I feel his chin on my hair, the weight of his head on mine. I think, this is Jonathan. I know Jonathan. And he knows me.”

“I suppose a better sister would have set about weaving him a shirt from nettles and throwing it over his furred-over body so that he could be released from his enchantment and resume his human form. I give him some cat food instead.”

“I imagine Hunter sitting at a poker table in a Vegas casino. He's resplendent in black jeans, a black shirt, and a Stetson. His poker face is beautiful; intriguing. I feel my body heat again as I think about kissing his lips. I wonder if the women there fall all over him. I bet the escorts would pay him to take a tumble.”