Sullen monosyllabism, a sure sign of sleep deprivation.

We are not going to die."

Butters stared up at me, pale, his eyes terrified. "We're not?"

"No. And do you know why?" He shook his head. "Because Thomas is too pretty to die. And because I'm too stubborn to die." I hauled on the shirt even harder. "And most of all because tomorrow is Oktoberfest, Butters, and polka will never die.

I’ve had a tense couple of days. And I’ve got to tell you, burning someone’s face off sounds like a great way to relax.

I died. I died and someone made a clerical error and I am in Heaven.

It came charging toward me, several hundred pounds of angry-looking monster, and I did the only thing any reasonable wizard could have done.
I turned around and ran like hell.

Thank God for wisecracks.