I have a folder in my office with about 400 ideas in it. So it will take me another 40 years to get through those.

Fang: When do I get out of here? Max: They say a week. Fang: So, like, tomorrow? Max: That's what I'm thinking.

Fang, fang. I love you. I looooove you. I love you thiiiiiiiiiis much!

Am I tough? Am I strong? Am I hard-core? Absolutely. Did I whimper with pathetic delight when I sank my teeth into my hot fried-chicken sandwich? You betcha.

Look, we're trying to explore other options to your retirement," the whitecoat said. "You might be useful to us in other ways." Because we're not that useful dead,"Nudge said thoughtfully. No," I agreed. "Well, maybe as doorstops." The whitecat made an "eew" expression. Or those things in a parking lot that show where the cars should stop," suggested Iggy. He closed his eyes and went stiff, to demonstrate what it would look like. Also an option.

Lots of women are gifting themselves with diamonds for their right hand.

NOOOO!" On the screen, a woman's eyes bugged almost out of her head, and I tried not to scream. Tried not to scream in exasperation, I mean. The serial killer was right in front of her, wide open! Clearly, instead of weeping like a moron, she could be lunging forward and administering a swift uppercut to the chin. Then this entire pointless ordeal would be over with, and I could go home.