If This Book Exists, You're in the Wrong Universe (John Dies at the End, #4)

by Jason Pargin

solving a complicated problem by shooting it is just about the most American thing I can imagine.

Depression means expending all your energy to avoid having to expend energy. I wish someone would invent a pill that would give me the motivation to go pick up my Lexapro refill.

Dave squealed out of the driveway in his Impala, tearing down the street like he had just spotted Satan in his rearview mirror sporting a lustful look and a white-hot erection.

waves of heat waft across his chest, like puffs of Lucifer’s horny, trembling breath.

Florida seemed like a terrifying place.

at that level of fatigue where reality is like a rerun you’re half paying attention to while working a sudoku.

one in five people are living in some kind of chronic pain;

As for how I can reconcile this with my Christianity, I would note that the Old Testament does not assert that the bloodthirsty gods of rival nations, such as Ba’al or Moloch, were imaginary, only that they were cruel and unworthy of worship. Of course, my atheist friends are fond of reminding me that Yahweh Himself ordered His followers to punish rival tribes with total annihilation, specifying that, yes, not even their children were to be spared. I can assure you, I have spent more time pondering this than you know. I am also aware that when the Spanish were forcibly converting the indigenous peoples of Mexico to Christianity five centuries ago, they told worshippers of Tlaloc the story of God demanding Abraham sacrifice his son Isaac. For you see, this was how they reassured them that their gods were not so different after all.

I resigned myself to being accidentally exploded

the intellectual equivalent of a hot dog stand,

I have tolerated you, but I have decided to do so no longer. And that decision is final.