[Abby to Tommy and Jody who are hugging]
So I'm like, "Cold-faced killers on the clock, bitches, we don't have time for your bonery right now."
--The Chronicles of Abby Normal

Christopher Moore

Mots clés christopher-moore bite-me



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So, like, the master needed a hand, if you know what I mean, so I was like, "Oh chill, it's a stress thing, everyone does it. I'm flicking the bean under the table right now just to dial the tension back a little. Yes. Yes. Yes! Oh-zombie-jeebus-fuck-me-Simba-lion-king-hakuna-matata! Yes!"
--The Chronicles of Abby Normal

Christopher Moore

Mots clés christopher-moore bite-me



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Will there be heinous fuckery, Pocket?

Christopher Moore


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He, Jeff, and Troy Lee carried Super Soakers loaded with Grandma Lee's Vampire Cat Remedy, other Animals had garden sprayers slung on their backs, except for Gustavo, who thought that making him carry a garden sprayer was racial stereotyping. Gustavo had a flame thrower. He wouldn't say where he got it.
"Second Amendment, cabrones." (The guy who sold Gustavo his green card had included two amendments from the Bill of Rights and Gustavo had chosen Two and Four, the right to bear arms and freedom from unreasonable search and seizure. [His sister Estrella had had seizures as a child. No bueno.] For five bucks extra he threw in the Third Amendment, which Gustavo bought because he was already sharing a three-bedroom house in Richmond with nineteen cousins and they didn't have any room to quarter soldiers.)

Christopher Moore

Mots clés humor



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This Roberto. He no like the light.

Christopher Moore


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I fear you may become a lonely man, even in the company of others.

Christopher Moore


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Normally if I met a guy who was unemployed and illiterate who hadn't bathed in a couple of weeks, I'd be standing in a puddle with excitement, but I'm sort of in a bad mood tonight, so take this bag and give me the fu**ing paper before I pop your head like a zit.
He said, you're a lesbian, aren't you?

Christopher Moore


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You can only eat so much white cake.

Christopher Moore


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Like looking down on a lubricious chess set, isn't it? The king moves in tiny steps, with no direction, like a drunkard trying to avoid the archer's bolt. The others work their strategies and wait for the old man to fall. He has no power, yet all power moves in his orbit and to his mad whim. Do you know there's no fool piece on the chessboard, Kent?" "Methinks the fool is the player, the mind above the moves.

Christopher Moore


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Love needs room to grow. Like a rose. Or a tumor.

Christopher Moore

Mots clés love fool christopher-moore rose tumor



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