“...he smelled like somebody trying to smell like somebody else.”
“What does he smell like?” “Smell like?” I scrunched up my face. “You know, he looks like he’d smell good.”
“The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.”
“I feel like I’m somebody else tonight.”
“What is that?"..."Why do you smell like that?"..."Smell like what?""You smell delicious."..."You smell like food. Why do you smell like food?”
“Although he, like all people, secretely enjoyed the smell of his own farts, the smell of his shit was somethig else. It was so bad as to seem evil in a moral way.”