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“I don’t like what I don’t understand, and I just don’t get the human race. They do the weirdest fucking stuff. Dress their pets in little outfits. Lie that they walked on the moon. Vote for Donald Trump. None of that makes sense to me.”
“Well, some people need to have cans slung at their head. Boat-size cans. Or maybe just boats. Cruise ships would be better.” “It would be hard to pick up a cruise ship. Impossible, actually. Unless you’re Superman. You’re not Superman. You can’t fly and you don’t have a cape. You also don’t have x-ray vision or the ability to shoot red-hot beams out of your eyes—both of which would be cool.”
“You know, Cynthia, there are no guys standing around with their pants down, so I can’t help but ask myself why the fuck you keep opening your mouth.”
“Oh, I won’t deny you eat pussy like a champ.” He laughed. “Like a champ?” “Totally. But you know, over seventy percent of erectile dysfunction cases are caused by having too many blow jobs.” “They are not.” “They could be,” she said. “Besides, you really shouldn’t give to receive.”
Dante gaped. “Dude, do not let her go. Like ever. Seriously, a woman who doesn’t like the mall is a gift from God—accept that gift with gratitude and grace.”
Riley closed her eyes. “I’m getting that déjà poo feeling.” “Déjà poo?” Tao echoed. “The feeling that I’ve heard all this bullshit before.”
