Fine. Everybody wears seatbelts. No radio. No distractions.” Ben shot Hi a stern look. “No running commentary.” “Your loss,” Hi said. “To the pimp ride!

You'd be naive if you think you are going to retain any control once you option a character to TV.

Why do all your brilliant ideas involve felonies?

Today he wore a burnt-orange shirt, black pants, and a tie that looked like a street fight at the south end of the color wheel.

An elite confederacy of nerds. My peeps

Hiram!' Shelton ran to Hi's side. 'Aren't you you bleeding? I thought she shot you!' 'Red wine. When I saw it running everywhere, I played dead.' He winced as Shelton poked his belly. 'But I'm not leaping off any more shelves. That was pretty stupid.

Everyone’s gone mad, typing to themselves all day long like mindless robots.