No headboards were broken.

What the hell is that?" I laughed.
"It's my fox hat."
"Your fox hat?"
"Yeah, Pudge. My fox hat."
"Why are you wearing your fox hat?" I asked.
"Because no one can catch the motherfucking fox.

I brought you a snack," Takumi said, dropping an oatmeal cream pie onto my book.
"Very nutritious," I smiled.
"You've got your oats. You've got your meal. You've got your cream. It's a fuckin' food pyramid.

Was it animal pee or human pee? Someone asked.
How would I know? What, am I an expert in the study of pee?

You were with Margo Roth Spiegelman last night? At THREE A.M.? I nodded. Alone? I nodded. Oh my God, if you hooked up with her, you have to tell me every single thing that happened. You have to write me a term paper on the look and feel of Margo Roth Spiegelman's breasts. Thrity pages, minimum! I want you to do a photo-realistic pencil drawing. A sculpture would also be acceptable. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write a sestina about Margo Roth Spiegelman's breasts? Your six words are: pink, round, firmness, succulent, supple, and pillowy. Personally, I think at least one of the words should be buhbuhbuhbuh.

She has enough black eyeliner on to outline a corpse, and her skin's so pale she looks like she's just broken dawn.