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

by Jason Pargin

“The way I figure it, when you’re given multiple choices with no way of knowing which one is right, you just do the easiest—that’s called ‘efficiency.’

“Don’t you worry,” said John as he soaked the eggs. “Fire and I are old lovers. You treat her with respect, give her room to breathe, and everything will be juuuuust fine.”

It was a noise like a beast the size of a planet had accidentally stuck its dick into the sun.

All wives have secrets. All wives learn how to navigate their husbands’ rage.”

“I promise you that before the sun rises, the three of us are gonna punch this mother right in his fucker.”

The devil is real, but he doesn’t turn up in a red suit with hooves. You have to imagine him as like a disease that you get—you pass it on and you don’t even know it. Educated people don’t call it the devil; they call it trauma. It rewires your brain and tries to spread itself down to the next generation and the one after that, the pain rolling down through time.

Amy said, “I don’t know if anybody is born a monster, but some people are born with a potential monster inside them. It’s not fair, nothing is fair, but you play the cards you’re dealt. I have chronic back pain; you have the soul of a tyrant.” John said, “The good news is, you tame that monster and you can put it to work for you. Achieve great things.”

“It’s the tarry, hot semen from the balls of Satan himself,” said John. “We call it Arby’s Sauce.”

From within the tangle of limbs, Dave said, “John, if we die here, I want my last words to be this: Our life together was da filthy.”