They say revenge is a dish best served cold. This isn__ correct. Revenge is a dish best served lukewarm or at room temperature (depending on the room) with a side of sauerkraut lightly sprinkled with pepper, a generous helping of golden brown roasted potatoes, and a large loaf of marble rye, washed down with any kind of unfiltered wheat beer.But whatever you do__nd remember this, as it can be a matter of life or death__on__ put any sort of fruit in the beer. Fruit doesn__ belong in beer.

Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

Clear skin, a manicure, a couple dead zombies, and then fame!

You know what__ worse than burying your own child? Not burying your own child.

...seeing the way his trousers clung to those most English parts.

What__ that supposed to mean, __ passin_ hunger?_ I ATE my fuckin_ girlfriend! An_ we ain__ talkin_ little fuckin_ love bites or a bit of a chew__ went wild kingdom on her ass! It was like a pig pickin_ after fuckin_ Lent-FUCK!