Quotes from Richard Kadrey

We have these meetings every couple of days. We're rebuilding Hell after it went up in flames like a flash-paper bikini when the original Lucifer, the real Lucifer, blew out of town after sticking me with the job. The trouble for the rest of the Council is that I don't know how fast I want Downtown back in working order.

Eight floors of the kind of consumer garbage that L.A. is famous for. Need a Ferrari jacket? Sure. You're a race car driver. Vroom vroom. Need silk designer socks that cost more than neurosurgery? We have that too. Come on down to the Beverly Center for something bright and shiny and leave feeling poorer, puzzled, and dead inside.

Remind me not to get on your bad side." "You still think I have a good side?" "There's a search party out for it but I'm optimistic they'll turn up something.

You were going to say 'You don't know what Wormwood is like. Crossing them is worse than horseradish on ice cream.' I've been hearing that from you assholes for days. Worry about Wormwood later. Right now, I'm the only monster you should be concerned about.

The Bad Dad thing usually works. Hellions are big on pecking orders and I have to remind them regularly who's at the top. Now they need a pat on the head from Good Dad before things go all Hansel and Gretel and I end up in the oven.

When she shocks me this time, it's on the inside of my thigh, close enough to my balls to make them consider finding work elsewhere.

What if you get eaten?" "You won't let that happen." "Honestly, I'm annoyed. I just might.

I sit on the end of the bed, trying to look as nonlethal as an extra from Night of the Living Dead can.

Look at my face. I didn't get these scars in pillow fights." That seems to convince her. Never doubt the power of ugly.

I might be dead and damned for all eternity but I'm not addle-brained. I remember.

You're going to protect me, right?" "Define 'protect.'" "You're not going to let it eat me." "Not all of you. That's a promise.

I take a long drag on the Malediction like maybe it'll start a tornado and carry me back home like Dorothy.

Pale vines follow me as I walk, cooing and sighing, hoping I have oatmeal for brains and will get close enough that they can drag me off and eat me at their leisure. And at the center of all this treacherous merriment is a skeleton tree. It's sturdier than the others we've seen. Taller and thicker. Its branches are as big around as my leg.

I mean, if we're just a mistake it means that anything nice we do is special. Any music or paintings or movies or people we love. They're all special because we're not even supposed to be here.

give Death a look. "You had to wait till now to bring this up. You just took a massive shit all over our feel-good moment." "I know," says Death. "I'm somewhat famous for that.

What's a shvitz?" he yells. "Really? You're driving up Hell's asshole with these Grease rejects and that's the first thing that falls out of your skull?

If Jesus, Jesse James, and a herd of pink robot unicorns strolled in walking on water, this bunch wouldn't even look up.

I actually feel kind of bad for the little curs. It's not their fault they're a cannibal florist shop.

I say, "How do I look?" "Like a pail of manure dragged down a bumpy road and dumped into a river of puke," says a familiar voice from behind me.

A few grumpy horns and hoofs types and a petting zoo full of rabid Pokemons? I'm Satan. I can deal with that and play "Smoke on the Water" while getting a lap dance on a runaway train all at the same time.

Goddamn nature. All it wants to do is hitch a ride, kill you, or sting you. Sometimes all at once.

I'd really like to keep it for a while and play with it, but there's a bunch of grumpy killers and angels and a soon-to-be-dead messiah waiting for me.

Quiet as a baby bunny, I come up behind him and slam his head into the wall.

If you're going to get shot, a gold .45 is the classy way to do it.