I have three words for you," EMT Guy said. "Possible internal bleeding." I turned back to him. "Don't you think if I was bleeding internally, I'd know somewhere deep inside? Like, internally?

You totally need to watch the news." "Can't." "Why?" "It's too depressing." "Right, because hanging with dead people isn't.

After searching for a space, I parked behind the tattoo parlor in front of a sign that said NO PARKING. Since it didn't specify to whom it was referring, I figured it couldn't possibly be talking to me.

You can’t have him, okay,” she said from behind the wire barrier. “Mm-hmm,” I whispered. “This is certainly a beautiful neighborhood.” “Yeah, I guess.” “I will scratch those eyes out of your ugly head.

You take everything onto your shoulders like that guy who holds up the world, and you shouldn’t. You’re not nearly as muscular.

I have them a few minutes to absorb everything while I teased Ubie, who only had to recover from his near-death experience. I was so glad Reyes hadn't ripped him to shreds. I liked him much better un-shredded. Unlike, say, my preference for lettuce or heavy metal guitar solos.

He bombarded me with words, of all things, apparently clueless to the fact that the predawn hours rendered me incapable of coherent thought.