Maybe in the morning, sunlight would to turn him back into a statue; then I could take Stone out to the forest where he could frolic among the ferns, gurgle at streams, and make friends with the other interesting rocks.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you’re curious about?” “Hockey? Polo?” “Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates.

Hey, rock dude, are you destroying the house? Causing mayhem? Who’s a ferocious gargoyle? Stoney’s a ferocious gargoyle.

... he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing. Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.

Since I didn't have a spork handy, I leaned over the sink and scooped up a palmful of cold water and pressed it against my face. There had to be a better option than a violent sporking. There had to be a way to get rid of my dad.

But it is clear to me that our survival—both yours and mine—will be dictated by how well you and I can work together.” “So we’re screwed?

Don't know about my knives, but my gun's made of pain.