None of the Latinos liked him. So now he's dead. So go talk to the other ten thousand people could've juked him.

Don't touch that – who knows where it's been?

So it wasn't a hotel, as I said in my novel, just a measly motel. But to me it was like the First measly motel, and I remember laughing about the things I was saying straight from my unconscious to both his and God's ear.

I'm pretty good at tennis but only mediocre at racquetball.