Extraits

“Are you ready to put the ‘fun’ in Fall Fun Fest?” he says as I slap his palm.

“I can at least put the ‘trip’ in ‘Triple F.’” A pause. “By being clumsy, I mean. Not by, like, sharing drugs with the group.” Three sets of eyes are on me, and I can’t stop myself from talking. “I don’t have any drugs. In case you were worried. Or, in case you were … expecting me to have drugs.…”

Gideon grins.”

“So I do what I do best, or what I do worst, I suppose—my greatest strength is also my greatest weakness. I break it.

“I had the faucet on,” I say. “Really loud. And I pee pretty loud. I’m surprised you guys didn’t hear me, it was like Niagara Falls in here. Just really … very loud in volume. A lot of … liquids … flowing in a … noisy fashion.”

“This was possibly the first time anyone had used the phrase "too cerebral" when describing Pinky's advertising. Because someone somewhere in the Pinky's marketing scheme had made the brilliant connection that sub sandwiches are vaguely phallic. And from that, all the penis-related Pinky sub campaigns were born.

Like the commercial where you see the guy standing from the back, and then a woman in front of him, and she says, "Nine inches????" in this insane lusty voice, and then they pan to the side and show he's holding a Pinky sub right at groin height? It's the worst. It is literally the worst. I'm a cog in the world's dumbest corporate sandwich machine.”

“It's like a snort," I say. "Like a snort chortle. It's a snortle."

He moves a little closer. "Is that a Pokemon?”

“It just feels like..." Her voice small. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm faking."

"Maybe everyone feels that way.”