Oh, hey, Claire,” she said, and blinked. “Where are you going?” “Funeral,” Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely. “Yeah? Cool! Whose?” “Hers.” Shane said.

It's a good thing I've got to live with you two or I'd be putting this on YouTube later. And mocking you

My vampire boss, who would like to maybe be my boyfriend, just dropped in to tell me he was running away because Morganville’s too dangerous.

THTL— too hot to live

Look, I hate good-byes, too. But sometimes, we need them just to survive.

He sounded harassed more than anything else, like mass home invasion was just something standing between him and morning coffee.

Claire was struggling through last summer’s diary volume when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it. And, on his lapel was a button that said, If you can read this, thank a teacher.