I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain.
Dear God," said Nudge under her breath, "I want real parents. But I want them to want me too. I want them to love me. I already love them. Please see what you can do. Thanks very much. Love, Nudge." Okay, so I'm not saying we were pros at this or any...
The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.
Well, that's an evil smile...
Popcorn for breakfast! Why not? It's a grain. It's like, like, grits, but with high self-esteem.
Some people just don't have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.
Iggy. This is not a democracy," I said,(...)"It's a Maxocracy.
Man, you weigh a freaking ton," he told me. "What've you been eating, rocks?" "Why, is your head missing some?" I croaked. His mouth almost quirked in a smile, and that's when I knew how upset he'd been
I didn't know a van could go up on two wheels like that, for so long." -Nudge
The Gasman leaned over and examined the tangled pile of stereo guts spread out on the kitchen table. “It looks like a robot came in here and threw up,” he observed
It's okay, Ig." said Fang. "Just give it your best shot." Sometimes the Fangster is incredibly supportive, just not with me.
I want to be able to see stuff," Iggy said. "Like I used to, when I was little. And I want to be able to totally kick Jeb's butt.
Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?
