This Book Is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It (John Dies at the End, #2)

by David Wong

For Carley, who was a better person than I am even though she was a dog

You know how sometimes when you’re drifting off to sleep you feel that jolt, like you were falling and caught yourself at the last second? It’s nothing to be concerned about, it’s usually just the parasite adjusting its grip.

Man, I did not want to be here. In this office, in this town, in this life. I wanted to just walk out.

There was a pair of couples that looked college age—all four of them drunk off their asses, celebrating the fact that they would be young and pretty forever and ever.

If you ever see more than two helicopters over you, you can be sure that something terrible has happened.

That is why we fear the zombie. The zombie looks like a man, walks like a man, eats and otherwise functions fully, yet is devoid of the spark. It represents the nagging doubt that lays deep in the heart of even the most zealous believer: behind all of your pretty songs and stained glass, this is what you really are. Shambling meat. Our true fear of the zombie was never that its bite would turn us into one of them. Our fear is that we are already zombies.

“So, so many kidnappings begin this way.”

Falling in love with a house or a car or a pair of shoes, it was a dead end. You save your love for the things that can love you back.

I said, “How did we screw this all up so badly, John?” He shook his head. “We always find a way.”

It had the tangled floor plan common to all hospitals, seemingly designed by someone who believed in the healing power of watching confused visitors aimlessly wander around hallways.

All moral choices seem easy when you don’t actually have to make them.”

Martyrdom isn’t something you choose. It is thrust upon you.”

“I’m not saying you imagined it all, obviously.” “That’s exactly what you would say, if you also were imaginary.”