Quotes About Lassiter

Rhage raised his hand. Pastor Ass-hat, I have a question. Yes, my son, you ARE going to hell. Lassiter made the sign of the cross and then looked around.

You love it right? Lassiter asked, holding his Bible high. I mean, you told me to go on the internet. I did. I even printed out my diploma or whatever the hell it's called. Opening the cover of the King James version, he took out a piece of paper and waved it around. See? Nice and legal-like Beth leaned in Wow. I know right? Just like Harvard Impressive I'm totally framing that shit, wha-what.

Our boy looks impressed." "Should be," Rhage muttered as he jacked the belt on his robe. "We are awesome." Multiple groans at that point. Rolled eyes. "At least he didn't pull out the 'totes amazeballs,'" somebody muttered. "That's Lassiter," came an answer. "Man, that son of a bitch has got to stop watching Nickel-fucking-odeon.

Rhage's stare narrowed, but he refused to look at the angel. "Isn't there a Saved by the Bell marathon you have to go watch?" "Don't hate on Zack. He's like your little fucking brother, beauty queen." Lassiter wandered over, the gold he had on creating an aura around his blond-and-black head and his long body—or maybe the glow actually was an aura.

You can stay home," V muttered. "You really can totally f-in' stay the f home, you f'ed-up mother-f'ing f-twit." Lassiter clasped his breastplate, and swooned like Julie Andrews. "Don't you love it when he can't swear? Warms my cockles—it's like watching a drunk on roller skates try to play dodgeball in the dark—

Rhage raised his hand. "Pastor Ass-hat, I have a question." "Yes, my son, you are going to hell." Lassiter made the sign of the cross and then looked around.

And suddenly it wasn't a joke. The further she went, the more serious Lassiter got, and the shakier Wrath's shellan became, as if the words she were speaking were ones of great value and meaning. This was tradition for her, he realized.

He looks like a bumblebee caught under a glass," Lassiter remarked. Butch glanced over at the angel. "I know you're immortal and shit, but you better run like a motherfucker when you let him out." "You know, I'm inclined to agree with you.

Goddamn Lassiter. Dinner invite. Sal's. WTF. The last thing he wanted to do was sit across from that angel and listen to a Reservoir Dogs opener about dick symbolism in Deadpool. The problem? His brother, iAm, did make the best Bolognese anywhere, and besides, if Trez didn't show? Lassiter was just the flavor of asshole to turn up here in a clown costume and honk his nose until Trez lost his mind.

Please," Eddie implored. "Not Lassiter. Anybody but Lassiter—he could be anywhere on the planet, doing anything.

Lassiter," Ad and Colin said together. At the sound of the name, even Devina rolled her eyes. "Oh, Christ. Him again.

I already checked, Rhage muttered. They have the DVDs--they're probably watching the extended, uncut versions. So the strippers aren't circumcised? Lassiter put his palms up again before the growling got even worse. Jesus, you guys are so damn touchy.

Nope, it was the Great Immortal Agitator: Lassiter

And no, I don't need to go to the range. Well, unless Lassiter has a target on his ass—" "I'll volunteer the angel right here, right now." V parked it on the far side of the desk. "And can I be the one with the stapler, pinning the tail on his donkey? 'Cuz I'll tell you right now, I'ma hit that Stanley until the thing jams.

Tell them," Lassiter demanded from behind. "Tell them he comes with a roommate." As one, the Brothers' heads snapped up. "Fuck. Me," Vishous breathed. "I will so pass on that," Lassiter muttered.

V was sooo stuck. "You know," Lassiter murmured, "I really wish I had brought my cell phone right now. Your face is such a picture. It's the kind of thing I'd like to have as my lock screen.

Okay, now he knew why humans with mother issues went on Lassiter's talks shows. Every time V got around this female, he came down with a case of womb-induced-psychosis.

Dearest Virgin—um, Oversexed Lassiter

Mr. Lassiter, you know better than that," the judge said icily. He turned to the jury box. "The jury shall disregard Mr. Lassiter's last statement." I didn't mind the instruction. In my experience, jurors forget most everything I say, except what the judge tells them to disregard.

After a moment, Wrath turned to John. "This is Lassiter, the fallen angel. One of the last times he was here on earth, there was a plague in central Europe-" "Okay, that was so not my fault-" "-which wiped out two-thirds of the human population." "I'd like to remind you that you don't like humans." "They smell bad when they're dead." "All you mortal types do.

What do you think it's worth, Lassiter, finding and returning the priceless heritage of a nation?" "How about a Boy Scout merit badge and a thank-you note from Yeltsin?" Above us

Mr. Lassiter, next week, you shall be permitted to do an autopsy if you wish. At least we know you won't kill the patient.

have rights, too." Lassiter nodded at this pearl of tight-assed wisdom. "And you will not be swayed by sympathy for the injured person?" "Absolutely not." Lassiter smiled. Bingo! Marvin the Maven leaned toward Saul the Tailor and whispered, "Fatso saves his sympathy

Damn poachers! And damn lawyers! Everybody wants something for nothing. But nothing worth having is free. Not water. Not mangoes. Not nothing. I've worked for everything I've got, Lassiter." He fingered his earring with one hand and held the gun with the other.