The Golden Years Are For Pussies. We

Opening My Door To Dillon Ruddick, My Bulding Super. I Handed Him A Cup Of Coffee. "sorry About The Blood." "what Was It This Time?" No One Reported Gunfire." "i Hit A Guy In The Face With A Hair Dryer." "whoa." Dillon Said. "it Wasn't My Fault," I Told Him. "maybe We Should Lay Down Some Linoleum Here. It Would Make Things Easier For Clean Up.

I'm Telling You, It's Fu**ing Hard To Be Classy

Am I To Assume You Would Rather Not Have Us As Clients?"
 "let Me Think About That For A Nanosecond," Dickie Said. "yes! Last Time You Were In My Office You Tried To Kill Me."
 "that's An Exaggeration. Maim You, Yes. Kill You, Probably Not."


The 'barnaby' Books Were Always Intended To Be Graphic Novels.

Mooner Was Walking Around Laying His Hands On The Cars, Divining Karma. "this Is It", He Said, Standing By A Small Khaki-colored Jeep."this Car Has Protective Qualities" You Mean Like A Guardian Angel?" I Mean, Like, It Has Seatbelts