Pfft Quotes

Love conquers all," Aphrodite promised. "Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them?" "Didn't they start the Trojan War and get thousands of people killed?" "Pfft. That's not the point. Follow your heart.

She wanted me to betray you guys, and I was like, 'Pfft, right, I'm gonna listen to a face in the potty sludge'.

Maybe we should go on lots of double dates,” Cath said, “and then we can get married on the same day in a double ceremony, in matching dresses, and the four of us will light the unity candle all at the same time.” “Pfft,” Levi said, “I’m picking out my own dress.

At that, the initial mrowr pfft pfft I'd felt transformed into I will cut a bitch.

Aphrodite: Pfft. That's not the point. Follow your heart. Percy: But... I don't know where it's going. My heart, I mean.

There's the guy who trained me, you sexy son-of-a-bitch. I knew you could do this. I told the assistant, I said, 'Do you even know who you're dealing with here? Pfft. Pfft.'" "You definitely didn't say that." "Nope. I sure as hell didn't...

Jackson snorted. And Selena play-slapped his chest, like he was her mischievous boyfriend. At that, the inital mrowr pfft pfft I'd felt transformed into I will cut a bitch.

Why you in a dark hole, Astrid? Did you fall? (Simi) We’re hiding Simi. (Astrid) Hiding? From what? (Simi) Thanatos. (Astrid) Pfft. Why you hiding from that loser? He wouldn’t even make good barbecue. Barely take the edge off my peckishness. Hmmm…How come there’s no food here? (Simi)

Pfft,” I scoffed. “Feelings. I don’t have feelings.” I had so many feelings. None of them were good.

Pfft.” Dad turned to her. “What do you know about picking husbands? Last time you tried that, you got stuck with me.” She smiled and hit his arm. “You two are so gross, you ruin everything.” I spun and headed toward the door.

People want view of beauty. Pfft. I say, do not give me lies.

Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace, we got Teras incoming?” He levels angry blue eyes on me. “You’re a hex, lady, dark luck, powerful bad juju, ken?” “Only to people who try to kidnap me,” I tell him sweetly, and March snorts, so I feel obliged to add, “Or rescue me…” And then Dina makes a pfft sound. “Or who travel with me…” My gaze sweeps around the darkened interior, trying to find an ally, but nobody will hold my eyes more than two seconds, it seems. “Fine, frag you all, I’m dark juju, bad luck, and you’re all doomed.

Pfft. Wine is the greatest invention. Next to the vibrator, of course. They’re equally fabulous.

Love conquers all," Aphrodite promised. "Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them?" "Didn't they start the Trojan War and get thousands of people killed?" "Pfft. That's not the point. Follow your heart

You’re one crazy chick if you think you’re gonna get off that easy.” “What do you mean?” “‘Make me come’—pfft. Gidget, I can make you come anytime I want. Tonight you’re not gonna just come, babe. I’m gonna blow your fucking mind.

I don’t know if she’s completely unkillable,” he said, “but she cannot be defeated by toilet seats. I can vouch for that. She wanted me to betray you guys, and I was like, ‘Pfft, right, I’m gonna listen to a face in the potty sludge.

I need to check your ankle.” “Ask.” “If you object, I—” “Giving me a chance to object is not the same as asking permission. You’re used to telling people what to do. That works with those guards you’re in charge of. You aren’t in charge of me. You have to ask.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s more efficient my way.” “If your primary goal in life is efficiency, you should just die.” That startled him. His head actually jerked back. “What?” “The most efficient way to live a life is to die a couple seconds after you’re born. Pfft. Done.” She dusted her hands to demonstrate that. “It’s too late for you to achieve optimal efficiency, but you could still . . .

Why are all gay men understanding and compassionate?” “Pfft.” I arced an eyebrow at her. “They're not, trust me. Its a myth.” “A straight man wouldn't understand cramps, mood swings, backaches, not to mention the price of tampons...

Hi there! You’re cute. Do you have any girlfriends? ‘Cause Gran says Momma needs a man in her life. Then Pops says, ‘Pfft, Martine, the last thing Elise needs is a man!’ But I think my Gran is right.” “Rennie, for tonight, let’s play the think-about-what-we-say-before-we-say-it-game.

Maybe I should know the rules,” he says softly. “Pfft. I’m not a game.” I reach out to poke his shoulder, and unexpectedly he catches my finger. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.

Fae can’t lie, you know. But they can, and do, manipulate the truth.” “What’s the difference?” Mina asked. “Like, if you asked me if you were ugly, I couldn’t say yes, but I might tell you that you’ll probably never be prom queen.” “Pfft. Like I’d want to be.” “Only if Brody Carmichael were king.” Mina threw a stick at him, feeling the heat rush into her face.

Hey." Lon said to Kar Yee, towering over her. "Hanging in there?" "This? Pfft. It's nothing." Kar Yee said with a silly grin. "How's my favorite pirate captain? Did you come to give me something nice to look at? A little pirate booty?" She snorted a laugh at her own joke.

We all have a role in life. Maybe we’re someone’s sibling or spouse, a teacher or a parent, a ruler or a warrior. And with that comes a duty to show up for the situations life throws at you! After that, you do your best and let everything else go. The outcome? Pfft. Not your problem. People’s opinions? Not the point! When you go home and look in the mirror, it’s your face you’ve got to look at. No one else’s.

Her eyes traveled down the black T-shirt he wore. Pfft, he might as well be naked. It clung to him like a second skin giving her a clear view of lean, hard muscles. She licked her lips. Gods, what it would feel like to be his T-shirt. She was positive if he turned around his ass would be considered a lethal weapon in those jeans.

Oh, sorry, am I being difficult?” Rich asked. “I’m not good with people. Sometimes I’m difficult. I wish people would just tell me. Anyway, the Taiyang Shen is critical. In fact, my idea won’t work without it. But a Mars probe? Pfft. C’mon.” “All right,” Venkat said. “What’s your idea?” Rich snatched a paper from the desk. “Here it is!” He handed it to Venkat with a childlike smile. Venkat took the summary and skimmed it. The more he read, the wider his eyes got. “Are you sure about this?” “Absolutely!” Rich beamed. “Have you told anyone else?” “Who would I tell?” “I don’t know,” Venkat said. “Friends?” “I don’t have any of those.” “Okay, keep it under your hat.” “I don’t wear a hat.” “It’s just an expression.” “Really?” Rich said. “It’s a stupid expression.” “Rich, you’re being difficult.” “Ah. Thanks.

Moi je suis comme un cerf-volant, si quelqu’un ne tient pas la bobine, pfft, je m’envole… Et toi, c’est drôle, je me dis souvent que tu es assez fort pour me retenir et assez intelligent pour me laisser filer…

That’s the ceremonial uniform,” I said. “I mean a duty uniform. Light shirt, dark pants with a yellow stripe?” “Oh, Han Solo pants. Yeah, he had those on.” “Okay, thanks.” Pfft. Han Solo’s pants have a red stripe. And it’s not even a stripe—it’s a bunch of dashes. Some people have no education.

Fae can’t lie, you know. But they can, and do, manipulate the truth.” “What’s the difference?” Mina asked. “Like, if you asked me if you were ugly, I couldn’t say yes, but I might tell you that you’ll probably never be prom queen.” “Pfft. Like I’d want to be.” “Only if Brody Carmichael were king.” Mina threw a stick at him, feeling the heat rush into her face.

Pfft,” a male said. “I can kiss on a single breath for at least three minutes.” “Yeah? How about you show us?” “Or are you all words and no action?” The heavily built bear spread his arms. “Which lovely lady wants to volunteer to be the object of my lusty affections?” His gaze landed on Silver. “Ms. Mercant? I could show you— Never mind, I like my head on my neck.

When do you leave?” she asked. His fingers paused. “Labor Day weekend.” So soon. Only two and a half weeks away. She nodded, going for a joke. “Good. That’s about when I was planning on getting sick of you, anyway.” “Pfft. I’m already counting down the minutes until I can make my escape from this room.” “It’s your room.

A painter,” he said, as though the word were an insult. “I’m a writer.” “You’re a writer? I’m a writer.” “What do you write?” “Stories. Books. A book. Fiction.” “Fiction. Pfft. That’s not writing.” “What do you write?” “I write the truth.” “Fiction is true. It doesn’t have to be factual to be true.” “Says you. Have you been published?” “As a matter of fact I have. My novel sold over 65,000 copies.” “All to your mom.” “My mom didn’t even know about it.

Pfft, gentle. Yeah, Ash, you're gentle alright." "Don't make me cut you!" she snapped.

Pfft, right, I’m gonna listen to a face in the potty sludge.

Oh, pfft. I manage. With any paper one sticks under their nose and plenty of self-possession, one can get through, Especially a woman. Sometimes I take an armload of parcels and bags and drop every single one as I try to find my identity cards, chatting all the while, and they wave me through out of sheer irritation.' Lili exhaled a long steam of smoke. 'To tell the truth, much of this special work we do is quite boring. I think that's why women are good as it. Our lives are already boring. We jump an Uncle Edward's offer because we can't stand the thought of working in a file room anymore, or teaching a class full of runny-nosed children their letters. Then we discover this job is deadly dull as well, but at least there's the enlivening thought that someone might put a Luger to the back of our necks. It's still better than shooting ourselves, which we know we're going to do if we have to type one more letter or pound one more Latin verb into a child's ivory skull.

Classic. Contemplative Cancer.” How the hell? “Run a background check on me, didya then?” “Pfft. I just did the math. Besides, this”—Lark gestured to my entire form—“screams crustacean. I had you pegged as a water sign from the first time we met.” “I don’t believe in that. And refrain from suggesting you’ve pegged me, please.” “Would you let me run your natal chart? You’re a Scorpio moon, I bet.

Jai pointed at the car. "Get in the car. I'm pissed at you for getting out of it in the first place." Outrage lit through her. "Hey, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions." "Get in the car, Ari!" Charlie yelled now, his own eyes glittering with anger. Her mouth fell open, her cheeks blazing with indignation as the two men in her life stared at her, their expressions implacable. She made a 'pfft' sound and whirled around, stomping like a child towards the car. "Too much testosterone, infuriating cavemen, need someone else to boss around, stupid jerks..." she kept muttering insults under her breath until Charlie and Jai had cleared the road.

Jackson snorted. And Selena play-slapped his chest, like he was her mischievous boyfriend. At that, the initial mrowr pfft pfft I’d felt transformed into I will cut a bitch. -Evie/Evangeline/Empress The Poison Princess

Nicole: You're a funny looking creature. Larfleeze: Pfft! I'm not the one without a snout! Nicole: I can sense the empty void within you. Larfleeze: You must mean my stomach! I haven't eaten in two hours! Nicole: No. There is a pit inside you that you have been trying to fill for centuries. I am here to give you hope. Larfleeze: You know where I can find my lantern?! Nicole: Your parents are still alive. And they still miss you. Larfleeze: They... do?

From me to you. You got to be crazy. You know what I’m talking about? Full goose bozo. ’Cause what is reality? You got to be crazy. You got to! ’Cause madness is the only way I’ve stayed alive. Used to be a comedian. Used to, a long time ago. It’s true. You got to go full-tilt bozo. ’Cause you’re only given a little spark of madness. If you lose that, you’re nothing. Don’t. From me to you. Don’t ever lose that, because it keeps you alive. Because if you lose that, pfft. That’s my only love. Crazy.

His mate keeps him in line.” “Pfft.” Hades waved his hand in dismissal. “She knows who rules the roost.” Lilliana laughed. “Cat does.” Hades’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.” Suddenly, he grinned and waggled his brows. “But she has sex with me, so it’s all good.

 It’s weird being alone in the museum. It’s dark and eerily quiet: Only the after-hours lights are on—just enough to illuminate the hallways and stop you from tripping over your own feet—and the background music that normally plays all the time is shut off. I quickly organize the flashlights and check their batteries, and when I don’t hear Porter walking around, I stare at the phone sitting at the information desk. How many chances come along like this? I pick up the receiver, press the little red button next to the word ALL, and speak into the phone in a low voice. “Paging Porter Roth to the information desk,” I say formally, my voice crackling through the entire lobby and echoing down the corridors. Then I press the button again and add, “While you’re at it, check your shoes to make sure they’re a match, you bastard. By the way, I still haven’t quite forgiven you for humiliating me. It’s going to take a lot more than a kiss and a cookie to make me forget both that and the time you provoked me in the Hotbox.” I’m only teasing, which I hope he knows. I feel a little drunk on all my megaphone power, so I page one more thing: “PS—You look totally hot in those tight-fitting security guard pants tonight, and I plan to get very handsy with you at the movies, so we better sit in the back row.” I hang up the phone and cover my mouth, silently laughing at myself. Two seconds later, Porter’s footfalls pound down Jay’s corridor—Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! He sounds like a T. rex running from Godzilla. He races into the lobby and slides in front of the information desk, grabbing onto the edge to stop himself, wild curls flying everywhere. His grin is enormous. “Whadidya say ’bout where you want to be puttin’ your hands on me?” he asks breathlessly. “I think you have me confused with someone else,” I tease. His head sags against the desk. I push his hair away from one of his eyes. He looks up at me and asks, “You really still haven’t forgiven me?” “Maybe if you put your hands onme, I might.” “Don’t go getting my hopes up like that.” “Oh, your hopes should be up. Way up.” “Dear God, woman,” he murmurs. “And here I was, thinking you were a classy dame.” “Pfft. You don’t know me at all.” “I aim to find out. What are we still doing here? Let’s blow this place and get to the theater, fast.

Just in time, Evie,” Selena said. “I’ve got everything ready.” I surveyed the outdoor table, immaculately set with nice silver and crisp napkins. Covered dishes steamed with mouthwatering aromas. “We’re having quail, asparagus, and mushroom risotto. Hot apple cobbler for dessert.” I smiled thinly. Martha Stewart called, wants her shtick back. “Can I help?” Jackson snorted. And Selena play-slapped his chest, like he was her mischievous boyfriend. At that, the initial mrowr pfft pfft I’d felt transformed into I will cut a bitch.

[A]s Norman Mailer pointed out decades ago, and Philip Roth not long afterwards, niceness is the enemy. Every soft stroke from society is like the pfft of an aerosol can as it eats up a few more atoms of our brain’s delicate ozone, and furthers our personal cretinization.

What the hell is going on here?" Ash immediately released her and whirled on him. "Don't take that tone of voice with me Conall William Brannock! This is a girl thing and you don't get to march in here and make us feel bad for being gentle creatures." "Pfft, gentle. Yeah, Ash, you're gentle alright." "Don't make me cut you!" she snapped.

I heard a rumor that an e-mail went out to people about the bachelor party,” Simon was saying. “Sure did,” Vaughn said. “On a scale of one to ten, how worried do I need to be about whatever you have planned?” Vaughn dismissed this with a wave. “Pfft. Like a two.” Simon raised an eyebrow. “Your idea of a two or mine?” “I guess you’ll find out.

That’s Hades. He sometimes forgets basic manners.” “Don’t need ‘em where I live.” Razr snorted. “Don’t believe him. His mate keeps him in line. “Pfft.” Hades waved his hand in dismissal. “She knows who rules the roost.” Lilliana laughed. “Cat does.” Hades’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.” Suddenly, he grinned and waggled his brows. “But she has sex with me, so it’s all good.

So how do you talk to your crushes?” Chloe asks, hot on my heels. “Pfft.” I wave a dismissive hand, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “That I can’t help you with. I can confidently say I’ve never had the time.” But even then, my laugh at Oliver’s text lingers in the back of my throat the rest of the way home—and for the first time in the history of ever, I fall asleep looking forward to seeing him the next day.

Now that we know Dylan's gonna live,” Evan speaks up, “I think we should leave these two alone.” He and Cole help me stand, though there's nothing wrong with my legs. “Yeah, so they can practice experimenting on that connection thing I mentioned earlier,” Barry says with a chuckle. “The man's hurt,” Evan says. “What's your point?” Willy asks. “His side is hurt, not his co-” “Willy,” Randy cuts him off. “Pfft! Like they don't know what I'm talking about.

Dottie: I miss being across the hall from you. Jason: Words I never thought you’d say. Dottie: I know, I surprised myself, but despite your annoying tendencies and non-stop chattering, I miss it. Jason: You’re making my heart soar like a fucking falcon. A goddamn FALCON, Dottie. Dottie: Falcon. That’s pretty serious. Do you know what would have been more serious? An albatross. Jason: Pfft, no way. They might have a ten-foot wingspan, but they’re seabirds, so they shit in the ocean. Where’s the fun in that? Dottie: As opposed to . . . Jason: Shitting on people’s heads, of course. If I was a bird, that would be my main purpose in life, shitting on unsuspecting people’s heads. Think about it, being targeted by a bird bowel movement is detrimental as a human being. You’re just going about your normal business when all of a sudden, WHACK, white goop drips from your forehead down your cheek. What is that, you think? You carefully touch it, your fingers immediately wet with semi-warm liquid. And when you realize it’s an anal secretion from a flying vertebrate, all hell breaks loose. The horror! The disgust! The SHAME OF BEING SHIT ON. There’s no coming back from that. #DayRuined And as the maniacal bird, there you are, floating around in the peaceful skies, watching idiot humans running around in circles, trying to get rid of the poo-poo. With one flip of the feather—or the bird, hey-o—you’re off to the bird feeder, filling up so you can drop turd once again. A vicious cycle of humans feeding birds only to get shit on unsuspectedly, I AM HERE FOR THAT! Dottie: I was wrong. I don’t have to be across the hall to be annoyed by you.

But at least the voices are sexy, not twangy.” “So it’s not what someone says, it’s how they say it?” “Exactly.” My head bobbed in an exaggerated nod. “So I could call you a whore, and tell you to bend over while I snort a line off your sweet ass with a hundred dollar bill before I fuck you, and if I said it in the right voice it would sound sexy to you?” “Pfft … no.” I rolled my eyes. Then, of course, I wondered if the “sweet ass” comment was literal or just a lyrical example. Okay, it might have sounded sexy to me. I wasn’t going to ask him to actually say that in his sexiest voice, but it sure left me thinking about the songs I liked. Then I focused on the actual lyrics … yeah, he could have said that to me and made me want to let him do it. The religious sector was right: music was corrupting young minds, and I was one of them. A unique and catchy beat could make people dance and celebrate some really terrible shit.

I might have said you'll pay for the wild & reckless hour, pay in the currency of sweat and shiver, the future squandered, the course of years reconfigured, relinquishment so complete it's more utter than any falling in love. Falling instead in flames, burning tiles spiraling to litter the courtyards of countless places that will never be yours, the fingerprints, tossed gloves & glittering costumes, flared cornices & parapets, shattering panes, smoked out or streaked with embers, the tinder of spools, such a savage conflagration, stupid edge-game, the way junkies tempt death, over & over again, toy with it. I might have told you that. Everything you ever meant to be, pfft, out the window in sulphured matchlight, slow tinder & strike, possession purely ardent as worship & the scream working its way out of your bones, demolition of wall & strut within until you’re stark animal need. That is love, isn’t it? Everything you meant to be falls away so you dwell within a perfect singularity, a kind of saint.

I won’t know where we’re going until we get there.” Skylar was completely unfazed by my snapping. “And once we get there, I probably won’t know why until you guys tell me what’s going on.” “You’re the psychic,” Bethany muttered. “Shouldn’t you be able to figure it out for yourself?” If anything, Skylar seemed enthused by the pointed question. “Reading your minds on command would require being significantly psychic, and I’m not. I never know when I’m going to pick up something, and it comes in pieces and feelings, not in words. So who wants to clue the sophomore in?” Not me. I didn’t want to drag Skylar into this. There was just something about her that screamed protect me! Whoever the men looking for the “anemic cheerleader” were, I was fairly certain I didn’t want them anywhere near the Little Optimist That Could. Unfortunately, Bethany had no such predilection. “Sometime in the past week, I got bitten by a chupacabra. Somehow—no idea how—Kali lured it out of my body and into hers. She’s already far enough gone that medical science can’t do a thing to save her, and she’s got some kind of plan—probably a risky, unreliable one riddled with holes—to get the bloodsucker out.” Bethany blew out a long breath and then glanced back over her shoulder at Skylar. “There. You know what I know about the current situation. So, any time now, feel free to do your whole ‘psychic’ thing and tell me where the bedazzler we’re going, or I might be forced to physically hurt you.” Skylar made a pfft sound with her lips. “Five brothers,” she said, pointing to herself. Then she pointed to Bethany. “Only child. I could totally take you. Turn left.” Bethany slammed on the brakes. “Seriously?” “Please?” Skylar smiled winningly, and after a long moment, Bethany turned left onto an access road that dead-ended into a large parking lot. 

What about you? I know you’re not married. Are you seeing anyone or anything?” An image of Brooke sleeping in his bed popped into Cade’s head. Then a second image came to mind, of her giving him the “text me” speech at his front door. “Nothing serious.” “Really? ’Cuz you paused there.” If one more person commented on these damn alleged pauses . . . “Just eat your lunch,” Cade said. With a grin, Zach threw Cade’s words back at him. “If you’re having trouble talking to some girl, maybe you need to find another way to tell her how you feel.” “I know how to talk to her just fine.” “Maybe you’re not saying the right things, then.” “Can we change the subject?” Cade ran his hand through his hair. “You’re sixteen years old. Trust me, relationships get a lot more complicated when you’re an adult.” “Is this a friends-with-benefits situation?” “Aren’t you a little young to know about friends-with-benefits situations?” “I didn’t say I was partaking in them myself,” Zach said. “But shockingly, yes, I have heard of scenarios in which adults engage in intercourse without riding off into the sunset together.” Cade tried to decide how best to sum up the situation with Brooke. “There is a woman. We are friendly. There have been benefits.” “Do you like her?” Cade gestured with his burger. “Of course I like her. She’s, like, the smartest, wittiest, woman I’ve ever met. And hot, too.” “Yeah, I can see why you’d be confused about that,” Zach said. “Smart, witty, and hot. Sounds like a real complicated situation to me.” Okay, fine. To youthful, unjaded ears, it probably did sound odd. Cade tried a different way to explain. “She and I are on the same page. We’re just keeping it casual.” “Hey, you’re an intelligent guy, you obviously know what you’re doing,” Zach said. “But casual or not, if this girl’s that great you probably need to follow your own advice.” “What advice is that?” “Up your game.” That said, Zach took a big bite of his cheeseburger. Cade thought about that. Up his game? Pfft. If he had been thinking he might want to try to change Brooke’s mind about their just-having-fun situation—which obviously he did not, since no man of sound mind and body ever messed with a just-having-fun situation—maybe then he’d worry about upping his game. He scoffed. “You’re a teenager. What do you know?” “I’m wise beyond my years,” Zach said, his mouth full of burger

You’re ballsy, Nats. Jeez.” “Pfft. Why do men say that? Balls? If you kick them or bump them or they get cold or too warm, you guys go down for the count. I say I have vagina. Way tougher than balls. Though it does hurt to get kicked there.

Pfft.”  Helga’s eyes twinkled.  “A little snot never hurt anything well made.

Pfft. Why do men say that? Balls? If you kick them or bump them or they get cold or too warm, you guys go down for the count. I say I have vagina. Way tougher than balls. Though it does hurt to get kicked there.

seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack.” “Pfft,” I say in dismissal. “You’re fine. It’s a good thing you didn’t have any cupcakes, though.” “Helen...” she begins saying softly. Her voice is breaking like she might cry. A knock sounds on the bathroom door. “Miss Winters, we really need to get back to doing your hair and makeup,” says the makeup artist. “We’re running out of time before

So that started this thing, and Paddy never really thought about it much until the guitar. He wanted that guitar so bad, and he went to Ed and made a case to Ed but Ed told him to fuh—go away. How’d you do it?” “At first, I tried logic. I came at him head-on, and he blew me off. Because I was a woman he was mannerly enough, but it was clear he had no interest in selling the guitar. So I started calling him a few times a week. Then I sent him Sweet Hollow Ranch CDs. He got mad at me at first. And then I drove down there and showed up at his house.” “You did what? Christ! I told you not to go down there alone. He could have been insane or a serial killer or something. Paddy is going to kill me.” “Hush. You didn’t tell me that until after I’d already gone down there. So technically, once you told me not to, I didn’t. But anyway. I showed up, and I followed him around pretty much all day until he finally agreed to listen to one track if I’d leave him alone. So I played him ‘Be There.’ And I said, ‘Don’t you think your guitar would make magic with this man playing it?’” “You’re ballsy, Nats. Jeez.” “Pfft. Why do men say that? Balls? If you kick them or bump them or they get cold or too warm, you guys go down for the count. I say I have vagina. Way tougher than balls. Though it does hurt to get kicked there.” He sputtered and then laughed and laughed. “We need to think of another term, though. Vagina up? No. I’ll think about it and get back to you.

I used to be normal. Then, I met you.” “Pfft. There you go, blaming me for your mental hang-ups again,” she said. “Besides, normal is boring.” “Yeah. You’ve shown me that, too.

Cook yourself some bacon or something.” “Pfft. Rather have the beer.” “Not while I’m standing here,” I said. “You’re underage.” She puffed air up against her fallen bangs, making them flutter. “Aren’t you, like, a thief or something?” “Or something, sometimes.” “But you won’t let me have a beer,” she said. “Nope. A man’s got to have standards.” Melanie pulled a sealed package of turkey bacon out of the fridge and reached for a frying pan. “Ooh,” she said sarcastically, “the code of the criminal underworld, just like in the movies. Like you won’t shoot women or kids, right?” I shrugged. “I try not to shoot anybody if I can help it. If I’m put in a position where I have to, though, their gender or their age doesn’t have a whole lot to do with it.” “And let me guess, you never steal from your boss?” “Depends.” “Depends?” she said. “On how much of an asshole he is.” “That happen a lot?” “Working for assholes?” I said. “You have no idea.” She laughed.

Only 30 percent of English words are verbs, but in Potawatomi that proportion is 70 percent. Which means that 70 percent of the words have to be conjugated, and 70 percent have different tenses and cases to be mastered. Pages blurred and my eyes settled on a word—a verb, of course: “to be a Saturday.” Pfft! I threw down the book. Since when is Saturday a verb? Everyone knows it’s a noun. I grabbed the dictionary and flipped more pages and all kinds of things seemed to be verbs: “to be a hill,” “to be red,” “to be a long sandy stretch of beach,” and then my finger rested on wiikwegamaa: “to be a bay.” And then I swear I heard the zap of synapses firing. An electric current sizzled down my arm and through my finger, and practically scorched the page where that one word lay. In that moment I could smell the water of the bay, watch it rock against the shore and hear it sift onto the sand. A bay is a noun only if water is dead. But the verb wiikwegamaa—to be a bay—releases the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive.

Well, how about the Lennon Sisters then? They can’t be much older than you are.” I lied and told her one of her precious Lennon sisters—Diane, the oldest, her favorite—was having an illegitimate baby. “Pfft,” she said, flicking away the possibility with the flap of her wrist. But her lip quivered and she left my room making the sign of the cross.

their belts – or at least Leo thought they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and Leo realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped towards the hotel’s tower. Leo turned to his friends. ‘I love these guys. Follow them?’ Jason and Piper didn’t look eager. ‘I guess,’ Jason decided. ‘We’re here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn’t been kind to visitors.’ ‘Pfft, he just hasn’t met us.’ Leo whistled. ‘Festus, after those flashlights!’ As they got closer, Leo worried they’d crash into the tower. The Boreads made right for the green gabled peak and didn’t slow down. Then a section of the slanted roof slid open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles like jagged teeth. ‘This cannot be good,’ Jason muttered, but Leo spurred the dragon downward, and they swooped in after the Boreads. They landed in what must have been the penthouse suite, but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall had vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back of the room led up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branched off to the left and right. But the ice made the room’s beauty a little frightening.

Un tajā naktī pēc glāstiem un elsām viņam man teica: ‘’Vai varu tev ko jautāt?’’ ‘’Jā.’’ ‘’Tu man atbildēsi?’’ ‘’Jā.’’ ‘’Tev nešķiet, ka mēs labi saderam kopā?’’ Es biju vīlies, es biju gaidījis kaut ko… hmm… kvēlāku nekā jautājumu. ‘’Jā.’’ ‘’Tev arī tā liekas?’’ ‘’Jā.’’ ‘’Man, man liekas, ka mēs labi saderam kopā… Man patīk būt ar tevi, jo es nekad negarlaikojos. Arī tad, ja mēs nerunājam, arī tad, ja nepieskaramies viens otram, arī tad, ja mēs neesam vienā istabā, es negarlaikojos. Es negarlaikojos nekad. Man šķiet, tas ir tāpēc, ka es tev ticu, es ticu tavām domām. Tu spēj to saprast? Visu, ko es no tevis redzu, un visu, ko neredzu, es mīlu. Tomēr es apzinos tavus trūkumus. Bet tur jau tā lieta, man liekas, tavi trūkumi labi iet kopā ar manām labajām īpašībām. Mēs nebaidāmies no vienām un tām pašām lietām. Pat mūsu dēmoni ir saderīgi! Tu, tu esi vairāk vērts, nekā izrādi, un es – gluži pretēji. Man vajag tavu skatienu, lai iegūtu vairāk… substances? Kā saka franciski? Pastāvības? Lai pateiktu, ka cilvēks ir interesants iekšēji?’’ ‘’Dziļuma?’’ ‘’Jā! Es esmu kā papīra pūķis, ja kāds netur spolīti, pfft! – es aizlidoju… Un tu, tas ir dīvaini, es bieži sev saku, ka tu esi pietiekami stiprs, lai mani noturētu, un pietiekami gudrs, lai ļautu man lidot…’’ ‘’Kāpēc tu man to visu saki?’’ ‘’Es gribu, lai tu to zinātu.’’ ‘’Kādēļ tagad?’’ ‘’Nezinu… Vai tas nav neticami – satikt kādu un sev sacīt: ar šo cilvēku man ir labi.’’ ‘’Bet kāpēc tu man to saki tagad?’’ ‘’Tāpēc, ka reizēm man liekas, tu neaptver, kā mums ir paveicies…

Never use buckshot at close range. Why do you even own a shotgun?” “I don’t. It’s yours,” Troy answered. Eddy stepped closer. “All my guns are locked up in a safe.” “Pfft,” Troy rolled his eyes. “Any two year old with an acetylene torch can break into that safe. Oh, that reminds me. You’re running low on acetylene.

Fair enough, no more sexy talk tonight. But one night of decency won't clear your reputation, Matt. Sorry." "Hey, I'm not usually like this. I usually play my depravity a little closer to my chest." "Pfft, you're not depraved." "Tell that to my dick. I swear, it's like a dog lately—show it the slightest scrap of attention and it gets all excited." I giggled, then blinked. Did I just... giggle?

Damn.” I slumped back into the seat of the car as Rene drove, worrying like crazy despite the reassuring presence of Drake beside me. “You do not have the look of a bride,” Rene commented, watching me in the rearview mirror, narrowly missing plowing down a group of schoolgirls crossing the road. “You have the look of one carrying the load of many burdens upon her shoulders.” “Ack!” I yelled, pointing out the front window. He glanced at the large truck against which we had, by some miracle, escaped smashing ourselves to smithereens. “Pfft. I was nowhere near that lorry.” “Had to be a good two inches of space between us,” Jim commented, peering out the window at the truck as its driver screamed and clutched his chest while slamming on his brakes. “You’re losing your touch, Rene.” My friend, chauffeur, and fate extraordinaire just grinned and gave his particularly Gallic shrug. “I will do better the next time, hein?” “My money is on you, my man,” Jim replied.

Oh shit!” Day snapped his fingers at his recollection of something very critical. Why do I always forget about this? “I know exactly where he is…or at least I will in a second.” Day hung up without another word. He pulled up his track-your-lover app on his phone. He never did tell God how he’d found him in that alley in Buckhead. It took a few seconds for the app to open fully before he saw the red dot beeping on the map of their city. You call yourself a detective, God. Pfft. He immediately called his brother back. “Jax, he’s at the Fairfield Lodge in East Point. Please go check on him.” Day didn’t want to sound so pathetic. God had thrown him around and tossed him out like old luggage, but Day loved him and would never want to see God hurt or in need of help but too proud to ask for it.

Pfft, aren’t you optimistic,” my mouth twists into an ugly grimace as I clench my fists. My throat dries from the rushed breathing as my vision blurs, tears drying, my blood pounds in my ears. “Thinking as if this shit storm will ever blow over. Everyone’s got their scars and stories. This is yours.” Though I’ll always be haunted, memories always resurface.

Seriously. What’s with the face?” Jordan asked. “You’re scaring my cabernets with that scowl.” “I’m just working through some stuff,” he said vaguely. Jordan raised an eyebrow, studying him. “Prison stuff?” “More like post-prison stuff. Nothing we need to talk about.” The last thing he needed his super-perfect twin sister with her super-perfect FBI boyfriend knowing was that he was in another dispute, of sorts, with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He was cranky enough about the situation without Jordan laying into him about it. He’d left prison several weeks ago and was supposed to be moving on with his life, yet the vestiges of the place still clung to him. Like bad BO. He picked up four of the wine bottles Jordan had unpacked. “Where do you want these?” She pointed. “In the empty bin over there, with the other cabernets.” She looked over when Kyle came back to the bar. “So what kind of post-prison stuff?” Now he was getting suspicious. “What’s with the twenty questions?” “Sue me for trying to open a dialogue here. Geez. I’ve just been a little worried about you, since I’ve heard that it can sometimes be difficult for ex-inmates to reenter normal life.” Kyle shot her a look as he grabbed more wine bottles. “Where, exactly, did you hear that? Siblings of Ex-Cons Anonymous?” Jordan glared. “Yes, we have weekly meetings at the YMCA,” she retorted. Then she waved her hand vaguely. “I don’t know, it’s just…something I saw on TV this past weekend.” Ah. Kyle suddenly had a sneaking suspicion about the cause of his sister’s concern. “Jordo…by any chance were you watching The Shawshank Redemption again?” “Pfft. No.” She saw his knowing expression and caved. “Fine. I was flipping through the channels and it was on TNT. You try turning that movie off.” She looked at him matter-of-factly. “It’s very compelling.

Pfft.” Alara returned to the chair and sat. “Bóhjetien isn’t the one who went to seminary. Listen to me.” She stared at him until he looked her in the eyes. “A wife and daughter dying in childbirth is not the will of Telshi. That is the work of the Adversary.” “Is your god not omnipotent, then?” “Yes, Telshi can do anything. That doesn’t mean Telshi will do anything.

Pfft to your technology," Gramps said. "I have a spell that can change your appearance." I rolled my eyes. "Like that potion from Harry Potter?" "It's no potion," he snapped. "And what’s a Harry Potter?

Love conquers all,” Aphrodite promised. “Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them?” “Didn’t they start the Trojan War and get thousands of people killed?” “Pfft. That’s not the point. Follow your heart.” “But…I don’t know where it’s going. My heart, I mean.” She smiled sympathetically. She really was beautiful. And not just because she had a pretty face or anything. She believed in love so much, it was impossible not to feel giddy when she talked about it. “Not knowing is half the fun,” Aphrodite said. “Exquisitely painful, isn’t it? Not being sure who you love and who loves you? Oh, you kids! It’s so cute I’m going to cry.

Devlin inspected my leg wounds closer. “Whoa… you took an arrow to your knee. Are you going to be okay? Are your adventuring days over now?” I laughed. “Pfft… I’m gonna walk it off,” I said as I limped off slowly. “Such a beast…” Devlin whispered. I grinned as I made my way home.

Good luck, noob. I hope you come back alive. If you die, don’t come back to haunt me. That’s just not nice.” “Me, die? Pfft! Not with this full set of leather armor I got on.

The final person’s pretext had been taken by the person before him, and he was left at a loss for words. Chu Wanning’s frosty gaze swept toward him, and he rambled out in a panic, “Yuheng Elder, Mo-shidi once helped me dual cultivate—” “Pfft.” Someone failed to hold in their laughter.

It’s on like motherpucking Donkey Kong now. “Pfft. It’ll happen, baby.

Pfft,” Fergus said, and pulled the cork. “In these times, there’s little one can do that isn’t dangerous. If I’m going to be killed for something, I should like it to be something that matters. If it’s entertaining, so much the better.

Even when it was really difficult to write a song, when it came down to it, I went, “Pfft, whatever! Just do it!” Whether the song would get released or not, I decided to write it first and think about that later.

Even beyond believing what your Elven friend said, the visions you described are . . . well, entirely unprecedented. Furthermore, the Bloodletter would only tell you what you want to hear; it is not an all-knowing being. It thrives on your own weaknesses and desires, Greg.” “Pfft!” Ooj shouted loudly. “That’s assuming it revealed anything to him at all! I highly doubt an artifact of such significance would select this Dwarven impostor as its next owner. It’s preposterous!

Pfft, everybody should fall in love when they don’t remember anything.

I fucking exploded when you did that last night. Your body twisted into some fucked up position, your nails dug into my skin, and your entire body orgasmed. And blow jobs. Pfft, you’re a dirty, bad girl, and I fucking love it.” “I’m not a dirty, bad girl.

Dinner? Oooh. I do so love a man who likes to eat.” She winked. He fought a blush. Him. A blush. What the hell? “Shouldn’t you return to your friends?” Before he did something crazy like invite her back to his place for dessert. “They can wait while I have dinner with my Pookie. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be rude on our first date.” “This is not a date.” “And yet, there’s you, me, and food!” She clapped as she exclaimed the last word, probably because the server arrived bearing a massive platter laden with a ridiculously large steak and all the fixings. Before he’d finished saying thank you to Claude for being so prompt with his meal, she’d sawed off a piece of his porterhouse and popped it in her mouth. As she chewed, eyes closed, she made happy noises. Noises that should not be allowed in public. Noise she should make only while he touched her. Noises that made him snap, “Do you mind? This is my supper.” “Sorry, Pookie. That was so rude of me. Here, have a bite.” The next piece of steak she cut she offered on the tines of her fork, a fork that had touched her lips. Refuse. We don’t share. We— He devoured it, the bite an absolute delight. Juicy, a slight hint of salt and garlic, butter-soft to chew. His turn to sigh. “Damn, that’s good.” “Make that noise again,” she growled. He glanced at her and noticed she stared at his mouth, avidly. Hungrily… It was both flattering and disturbing. He needed to stop this. Right now. “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to eat alone.” “Alone?” “Yes, alone. While I am complimented by your interest in me, I’m afraid you’re mistaken about everything else. We are not on a date. We are not mates. We are nothing. Zilch. Nada.” No point in sugarcoating it. Best to lay it all out now before she got any further with this crazy idea they belonged together. But we do belong to her. Leo ignored his inner feline as he waited for her outburst. Women never took rejection well. Either they resorted to tears and wailing, or they resorted to screaming and ranting. But honesty was best. However, Meena didn’t react as expected. Her lips stretched into a full grin, her eyes sparkled, and she leaned forward— pressing her breasts together, causing her neckline to droop and give him a peek at the shadowy valley they created. “Resistance is futile. But cute. Think of me later when you’re masturbating, I know I’ll be thinking of you.” With a last stolen bite of his dinner, she popped up from her seat and sashayed to the bar. Don’t look. Don’t look. Pfft. He was a cat. Of course he looked, and admired the hypnotic swish of her ass.

Pfft." She waved a hand at me. "I've seen plenty of penises, thank you. I married a man, and I raised two sons. For years, I couldn't go a day without seeing at least two penises. Years, Magnolia.

You’re ballsy, Nats. Jeez.” “Pfft. Why do men say that? Balls? If you kick them or bump them or they get cold or too warm, you guys go down for the count. I say I have vagina. Way tougher than balls. Though it does hurt to get kicked there.” He sputtered and then laughed and laughed. “We need to think of another term, though. Vagina up? No. I’ll think about it and get back to you. So did he agree, then? To sell you the guitar, I mean?

Her blue eyes meet mine. “What’s the first physical feature you look for in someone you’re attracted to?” Dimples. Tits. Long, dark hair. “Height.” “Really?” She’s taken aback, and it’s obvious from her wide eyes that she doesn’t believe me. “Huh. That surprises me.” “Why?” “I don’t know, I thought you’d say big boobs or something.” Pfft, like I’d admit that shit out loud.