Why was the blind guy playing with matches, you ask? Because he's good at it. Anything to do with fire, igniting things, exploding things, things with fuses, wicks, accelerants . . . Iggy's your man. It's one of those good/bad things.

Why, the little Voice inside my head, of course. You mean you don't have one? I did.

Yes, I sounded like a pathetic weenie. I prefer to think of it as showing my softer side.

Popcorn for breakfast! Why not? It's a grain. It's like grits, but with high self-esteem.

Please, I begged silently, please do not let my last moments on earth be me crammed into a tiny boat in the dark, surrounded by mechanical singing pirates.

you plan to fail if you fail to plan

You know, I guess I just don't like to talk a lot about sad things. Now you know my flaw. What good does it do to talk about sad things in the past?