I always know it's Sunday because I wake up feeling apologetic. That's one of the cool things about being a Catholic . . . it's a multifaceted experience. If you lose the faith, chances are you'll keep the guilt, so it isn't as if you've been skunked altogether.

I hung my head. Ranger was next on the list. “Yo,” Ranger said when he answered. “Small problem.” “No kidding. Your car just went off the screen.” “It sort of burned up.” Silence. “And you know that keypad you gave me? It was in the car.” “Babe.

Omigod,' I said on a sudden flash of sleep-deprived insight. 'You're the big bad wolf.' There are some similarities.

Almost everybody I know has died,” Grandma said. “Bunch of wimps.

Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked. "Not right now." "There will come a time," Ranger said. "Let me know when." And he disconnected. I opened the freezer and stuck my head in to cool off. If there'd been any more innuendo in that conversation, I could have fried an egg on my forehead.

There's me and then there's you, and you aren't ever going to be as good as me, Sweet Thing." Ranger

I shot that sucker right in the gumpy." Grandma Mazur