. . . And so Charlie Asher . . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.

Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, is that duck wearing trousers? Mrs. Ling: Could be . . . . You hear of paper-wrap chicken? This duck in pants.

She hugged me and I could feel the heat rise in my face, either from shame or love, like there was a difference.

He has the attention span of a hummingbird.

Inside, I was like: "Ha, suck my spiky rubber strap-on, vampyre hunter!

Wet towel under the door,' said Barry. 'It's what you do when you're smoking weed in a hotel and you don't want everyone calling security. You're always supposed to have a towel. I read about it in a guide for hitchhiking through the galaxy.

I was seven before I realized that you could eat breakfast with your pants on.