“three out of four demons prefer barbeque sauce over hemoglobin”

“And just remember, kids, three out of four demons all prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin." (Simi)”

“The Simi gots some barbecue sauce in her bag. It kind of looks like blood if you squint at it the right way. And it don’t coagulate between your teeth like blood or give you them funky burps, not to mention it tastes a lot better too. Especially over that type A stuff. Bleh! I’d rather eat my shoes. But that O-flavored blood…yum! (She straightened and held one finger up in a gesture that strangely reminded him of Smokey the Bear.) And just remember, kids, three out of four demons all prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin. (Simi)”

“You’re a demon. I thought your motto was ‘spoils to the victor.' (Aimee)No, our motto is ‘everything tastes better with hot sauce.' (Xedrix)”

“You're three or four different men but each of them out in the open. Like all Americans.”

“That’s a federal crime,” I told him. “Punishable by three to five years in a minimum-security prison. You’ll get passed around like condiments at a barbeque.” “My hole is already quivering,” he said.”