I will destroy you. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me. I won’t sleep, I won’t eat. I won’t do anything but plot your downfall. I will mow down your men like they’re weeds. I’ll kill so many of them so viciously, so brutally, so horribly that no one will dare to work for you. And sooner or later, I’ll get you too.

Don't you agree, fuzzball?

All I'm saying is that I understand if the novelty's worn off and you want to get off the carousel ride now before it kills you.

The panther prowled around me in a loose, wide circle. Its mouth turned down, almost in a pout, and it seemed disappointed that I wasn't going to run away. Or scream, at the very least. Its tail, which was at least three feet long, twitched back and forth in what seemed to be annoyance. Or maybe anticipation. I didn't know. I'd always been more of a dog person. I cleared my throat, and the panther stopped and flicked up one of its rounded ears. Listening. "Um, nice kitty?

They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.

Don’t make it a challenge. You know how much I like those.

You bruised my ego, you see, and there’s just not enough money in the world to soothe my ego when it gets bruised