Dearly Devoted Dexter (Dexter, #2)

by Jeff Lindsay

There are still very few laws against thinking, although I'm sure they're working hard on that in Washington.

The key to a happy life is to have accomplishments to be proud of and purpose to look forward to,

In fact, from what I had observed it was quite possible for one to actively dislike one's girlfriend, although of course true hatred is reserved for marriage.

If everyone else in the world were to mysteriously disappear, I would feel irritated about it only because there would be no one to make me doughnuts.

Still, it's always nice to be around somebody who thinks I am wonderful. It confirms my low opinion of people.

Beer really is amazing stuff, isn't it?

most of the board games were uninteresting or incomprehensible to them, and too many of the card games seemed to require a lighthearted simplemindedness that even I could not fake convincingly. But we finally hit on hangman; it was educational, creative, and mildly homicidal, which made everyone happy, even Rita.

Still, it was very comforting somehow to see the predatory zest Cody and Astor brought to something as harmless as hangman. Their enthusiasm for hanging the little stick figures made me feel a bit more like we might all be part of the same general species. As they happily murdered their anonymous hanged men, I felt a certain kinship.

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.

Was this what it was like to be human? Were people actually so miserable and brainless that they looked forward to this—to spending Friday night, precious time off from wage slave drudgery, sitting in front of a television with a can of beer? It was

mind-numbingly dull, and to my horror, I found that I was getting used to it.

Curses on you, Doakes. You're drivi...

One drop from each of my small adventures. There had been First Nurse, so long ago, who had killed her patients by careful overdose, under the guise of easing pain. And the very next slot in the box, the high-school shop teacher who strangled nurses. Wonderful contrast, and I do love irony.

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. Oh, Dexter, a savage inhuman monster has taken my boyfriend! Well damn it, I'm a savage inhuman monster, too—didn't that entitle me to some rest?

I have always felt that it was preferable to think with my brain, rather than with certain other wrinkled parts located slightly south. I mean, seriously, don't people ever see themselves, staggering around drooling and mooning, all weepy-eyed and weak-kneed and rendered completely idiotic over something even animals have enough sense to finish quickly so they can get on with more sensible pursuits, like finding fresh meat?

I AM NOT SHY ABOUT ADMITTING MY MODEST TALENTS. For example, I am happy to admit that I am better than average at clever remarks, and I also have a flair for getting people to like me. But to be perfectly fair to myself, I am ever-ready to confess my shortcomings, too, and a quick round of soul-searching forced me to admit that I had never been any good at all at breathing water.

I felt a little bit like Bugs Bunny trying to talk Elmer Fudd into something lethal, but the man had it coming. “Sergeant Doakes,” I said, “Deborah is my only family, and it is not right for you to question my commitment. Particularly,” I said, and I had to fight the urge to buff my fingernails, Bugs-style, “since so far you have not done doodley-squat.”

It wasn't really perfect. Bugs Bunny would have made him think of it himself, but it was good enough. “As a matter of fact,” I said, “I do have an idea. But it's a little risky.”

Freedom is such a fragile, fleeting thing, isn't it?