Quotes from Kevin Wilson

C'mon, now," yelled Arden, "that was off by a mile." Kenny sidled up to Buster, holding the beer can that Joseph had obliterated with the potato gun. The can looked like a piece of shrapnel pulled from an unlucky body, jagged edges and splattered with warm pieces of potato.

Joseph reloaded and missed again. And again. "I guess I'm trying to aim a little high because I'm afraid that I'm going to shoot him in the face," he said. "You should ignore that fear," said Kenny, who began to urinate in full view of everyone.

She was, for the foreseeable future, unemployed. She had lost her role in one of the biggest blockbuster series in movie history. Her tits were on the Internet. She had slept with a reporter. Her ex-boyfriend, who was fast becoming one of the most powerful people in Hollywood, probably did not care for her right now. Buster whistled when she finally finished reciting the particulars of her unpleasant situation. "Not bad," he said. "Thank you," she replied.

Again," he said and, without waiting for an answer, ran into the growing dark without fear, every single part of his body overwhelmed with the task of being alive. When Buster awoke from unconsciousness, he saw, with some degree of difficulty, Joseph's face hovering over him. "Oh god," Joseph wailed, "I thought for sure that you were dead.

Being rich, of course, meant it was easier to just keep getting what you wanted. It took less and less effort to keep it.

I'm not trying to be rude," he said, so effortlessly rude that he didn't have to try.

After thirty minutes, he began to wonder if Annie had simply forgotten about him, returned to the house after the movie, and got drunk on vodka tonics. "Come get me," Buster whispered, hoping to create a psychic link to his sister.

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It seemed like anything more than two kids was resigning yourself to a life of food in bulk and lack of funds.

You want to put up posters in Graceland?" I asked. I thought that if there was one place in the entire world where devotees would kill you for desecrating the sanctity of a holy space, it would be the mansion where Elvis played racquetball.

Where are our parents?" the Fang children asked in unison, inching closer to Hobart. Hobart sighed deeply and then pointed toward the living room and said, "Let's sit down and talk." Hobart took nearly five minutes to find a comfortable sitting position on his George Nelson–designed Kangaroo chair. Buster and Annie sat side by side opposite Hobart on a black leather sling sofa, feeling as though they were waiting for a bus that was very, very late.

I lived a life where I had less than I desired. So instead of wanting more, sometimes I just made myself want even less. Sometimes I made myself believe that I wanted nothing, not even food or air. And if I wanted nothing, I'd just turn into a ghost. And that would be the end of it.

I wondered if this was a sign that, whatever happened this summer, I'd be the one with a scar.

he tested his newfound abilities by guessing the time without looking at the clock. The numbers flickered in his head, just behind his covered eye, and he said out loud, "Three forty-seven P.M." He then looked over at the nightstand clock, which read 9:04 A.M. The ESP, he determined, came and went.

The phone rang three times before either of them even heard it, was able to tease the sound out of the tangle of noise that surrounded them. Annie reached the phone in the kitchen just as the answering machine was saying, "The Fangs are dead," and Annie said, out of breath, "We're not dead! Sorry, we're here. Sorry.

You are going to have such an amazing life, Frankie," he told me. "If this is how it starts? It's almost breathtaking how good your life will be.

Slowly, the fire rolled down to her hands, and there was this jittery flame and she was holding it. She was holding it in her hands, cupped together. It looked like what love must look like, just barely there, so easy to extinguish. ? Kevin Wilson tags: nothing-to-see-here

Wonderful," Lucas Kizza exclaimed. "Wonderful," Buster repeated, just to hear what it sounded like coming out of his own mouth.

But I also think it's not so bad if you never quite feel right in this world. It's still worth hanging around. You just have to look harder to find the things you love.

By this point, the contractions were so intense that Izzy was making a low, moaning sound like a grizzly bear, and she was hobbling toward the entrance like someone who'd learned about walking from YouTube videos.

Buster admired the skill, loved any action that seemed to be purely muscle memory, disconnected from the brain, which was something he could hardly fathom. His brain always interrupted the actions of his body, interjecting questions and concerns.

Who would judge you? Who do you know who's done a good job? Name one parent that you think made it through without fucking their kid up in some specific way.

It was the only thing he could control, the world he had made, and he made it bend to his will, feeling the satisfaction of saying something was a certain way and having no one tell him differently.

Slowly, the fire rolled down to her hands, and there was this jittery flame and she was holding it. She was holding it in her hands, cupped together. It looked like what love must look like, just barely there, so easy to extinguish.