Yes and I appreciate it. But this is going to be difficult enough without running my words through a filter of illiteracy.

Awesome! I'd just bullied Jesus into doing a shot with me. Nobody would ever believe it, but I didn't care. We ordered the insanely expensive stuff, seventy-five dollars for a 1.75-ounce pour of premium Irish whiskey, because if you're doing a shot with Jesus, you don't buy him scotch.

She switched from ecstasy to embarrassment at about Mach five.

Ye know what me Sean used to say, God rest his soul? He said, 'A friend will help ye move, Katie, but a really good friend will help ye move a body.

How would you take care of it?” I asked. He shrugged. “I know some ghouls. I make a couple calls, the guys come over for dinner, problem solved.” “They can put away nine whole giants? There’s that many ghouls in town?” “Probably not,” Leif admitted. “But whatever they do not eat tonight, they’ll take the rest to go.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You mean like a doggie bag?” The vampire nodded with a thin trace of a smile. “They have a refrigerated truck, Atticus. These are practical guys.

Anyone who's ever tried to tangle with a teddy bear cholla knows there's a whole lot more bear than teddy to it.

Gods can screw anything and anybody. For reference, see history. Atticus O'Sullivan