It is accepted science that God himself gave the French the gift of their cuisine, and while he was downstairs, cursed the English with theirs.
They are the fallen gods. The new gods are producers, creators, doers. The new gods are the chinless techno-children who would rather eat white sugar and watch science-fiction films than worry about w...
She was twentysix and pretty in a way that made men want to tuck her into flannel sheets and kiss her on the forehead before leaving the room; cute but not beautiful.
It was an eight-harlot inn, if that's how you measure an inn. (I understand that now they measure inns in stars. We are in a four-star inn right now. I don't know what the conversion from harlots to s...
The key to retaining their respect was to find out what they wanted to do, then tell them to do it.
No. Tommy turned and headed toward the door. As he reached it he turned and said, I'm not fucked. The Sartre reader looked up from his book and said, We all are. We all are.
Will smack that bitch up and take her bag of quarters! I will not be fucked with!
It's hard for me, a Jew, to stay in the moment. Without the past, where is the guilt? And without the future, where is the dread? And without guilt and dread, who am I?
When your best friend is the son of God, you get tired of losing every argument.
It’s French, she said. They designed it like a zoo—you know, keep ’em in, but give everyone a good look at ’em...
Out came an extraordinarily complex network of plastic, brass, and stainless-steel tubing, which in seconds Kona had assembled into what Quinn thought was either a very small and elegant linear partic...
It’s a yeti, said Gaspar from behind me, obviously having been roused from his trance. An abominable snowman. This is what happens when you fuck a sheep!? I exclaimed. Not an abomination, Josh said, a...
You should never pass up an opportunity to be kind. You should never not thank someone. You should never not say something nice when you think it. I don’t.
The constable lit the bong and lost himself in the scuba bubbles of sweet comforting smoke.
I’m Asian. She wasn’t Asian, but there would be a metric fuckload of Asian girls on the bridge for him to think were her. Ten minutes. Don’t jump, okay?
This is a bawdy tale. Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as non-traditional grammar, sp...
The City of San Francisco is being stalked by a huge, shaved vampyre cat named Chet, and only I, Abby Normal, emergency backup mistress of the Greater Bay Area night, and my manga-haired love monkey,...
Leathery bar girls worked the charter booths at the harbor, smoking Basic 100s and talking in voices that sounded like 151 rum poured into hot grease—a jigger of friendly to the liter of harsh.
Yeah, that's right, Lash. Because I'm Chinese I have a deep-seated need to nosh house pets. Now why don't you let him in before my inner Chinaman forces me to kung-fu your bitch ass.
[...] Y'know, the Duchess Regan is living here at the tower now? I took your advice about not talking about her boffnacity [footnote], even with the duke dead and all, can't be too careful. Although,...
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