“Holy shit, did they just kill off that fish’s wife?” I blurted in shock.“Yep,” Gavin replied. “That big, mean fish ated her.”He said it so calmly – like it was no big deal that a sweet, loving cartoon fish just got murdered. What the fuck was wrong with this movie? This couldn’t be appropriate for kids. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me.”

“Have you talked to Lindsay about me?""Not really. But the night of that charity thing, when I was driving her home, she told me I should wait an appropriate amount of time out of respect for Paul Wheeler and then ask you out.""She did?""Yeah. But I told her I was in no rush because I'd already fucked you, so--""WHAT?"He looked across at her and grinned. "Just kidding.”

“I continued, “The painting shows this fish with a big eye and a halo, floating in air, and underneath the fish are all these Native Americans having sex.” “What? What does that have to do with Custer’s Last Stand?” “Well, the painting is titled, Holy Mackerel, Look at All Those Fucking Indians.”

“Did you just smack me in the face with a fish?”“I did.”“Why did you just smack me in the face with a fish, Danny?”

“Granana doesn't understand what the big deal is. She didn't cry at Olivia's funeral, and I doubt she even remembers Olivia's name. Granana lost, like, ninety-two million kids in childbirth. All of her brothers died in the war. She survived the Depression by stealing radish bulbs from her neighbors' garden, and fishing the elms for pigeons. Dad likes to remind us of this in a grave voice, as if it explained her jaundiced pitilessness: "Boys. Your grandmother ate pigeons.”

“I don't think murder is an appropriate reaction to disappointment.”