Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum, #25)

by Janet Evanovich

“Yes,” Stretch said. “I’m Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I can do anything because I ate the magic whiteness.”

“I am Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Stretch said. “I know because I can see inside my head, and it’s rainbow colors.” He pulled two cutlets out of the under-the-counter fridge. He put his nose to the cutlets and sniffed. “They smell like pink and green happiness,” he said. “Pink and green is the best kind of happiness.”

“Daddy watches sexy movies,” Angie said to her mother. “Is he a perv?” “No,” Valerie said. “He’s a Taurus.”

“You going to hell,” Bella said. “You never go to church, and you got this slut in your car. Her grandma cheats at bingo. God don’t like bingo cheats and sluts.”

“A penis in a hot dog bun,” Lula said. “That’s sick. Did it fill the whole bun?” “Yes.” “That’s a good-size penis. What about condiments?” “There weren’t any.” “Hunh,” Lula said. “Everybody knows it’s all about the condiments. Who wants to eat a naked penis? If I’d been on the sandwich station that penis would have had mustard and relish on it, at the very least. Or it could have been a chili dog penis. Mustard and chili and chopped onion. That’s the way to serve a penis.” Connie and I exchanged glances. We didn’t know where to go with this. “Um, it’s a penis,” I finally said. “All the same,” Lula said. “I’m just sayin’.”