You have the Super Soaker filled with holy water?” “Yeah. I sucked it out of the church. You know that bird-bath thing they got right up front?” “The baptismal font?” “That’s it. They got it filled with holy water, free for the taking.” “Brilliant,” I said to Lula. She tapped her head with her finger. “No grass growin’ here.

Howie's doctor told him to lose ten pounds, and since Howie's been on a diet he's gained three.

I took the stool next to him, raising an eyebrow at the coffee and cruller on the counter. "Thought you weren't into internal pollution," I said. Lately Ranger'd been on a health food thing. "Props," Ranger told me. "Didn't want to look out of place." I didn't want to burst his fantasy bubble, but the only time Ranger wouldn't look out of place would be standing in a lineup between Rambo and Batman.

Ranger declined the butterscotch pudding, not wanting to disrupt the consistency of his blood sugar level. I had two puddings and coffee, choosing to keep my pancreas at peak performance. Use it or lose it is my philosophy.

My Spanish is limited to burrito and taco.

Lula's borderline too much of a good thing in lots of ways. It isn't exactly that Lula is fat; it's more that she's too short for her weight and her clothes are too small for the volume of flesh she carries.

On the bright side, I'm sure this isn't the last time you'll ever get firebombed, so maybe you'll have better luck next time.