Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter, #2)

by Jeff Lindsay

What kind of predator would leave the meat lying around and still wiggling like that?

And a man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else's box of matches.

Curses on you, Doakes. You're driving me normal.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.

I did not think I would make a very good yodeling potato.

Animals do not like me, but this one seemed to have formed an extreme and violent hatred.

“They don't need to know that somebody wants to convert them to squealing pillows?”

What a wonderful idea, to inject his patients with some kind of psychotropic drug to increase their sense of helpless terror. I wished I knew how to do that.