Ferbus assumed a hyperventilating position, his hands on his knees. 'Oh no,' Skyla said, concern splashing across her face. 'Is he anemic? Clinically asthmatic?'
'No,' Uncle Mort said, thwacking Ferbus on the head as he started climbing the stairs. 'Just lazy.'
'Clinically lazy!' Ferbus wheezed.

Off flew his shirt, which landed on an outstretched arm of the ceiling fan. 'Beats me. God, is there a padlock on this thing?'
'It's not rocket science, Driggs. It's a bra.'
'It's a Rubik's cube of diabolical proportions, is what it - ha! Suck it, evil underwear!' Triumphant, he flung the unfastened conundrum across the room [...]

Lex was about to ask what in the dickens that was supposed to mean, but then Uncle Mort nodded at Wicket in a secretive manner, which roughly translated as 'Screw you and your curiosities, Lex. We're telling you NOTHING.

Uncle Mort glanced at Pandora, then back at the Juniors. "Okay, kids. Brace yourselves. And try not to yell too much."
Elysia's hand tensed on Lex's arm. "I hate it when he says that," she whispered.
Uncle Mort gave them a sympathetic smile. "Remember that old chestnut about the wickedest Grim of all time?"
He pounded on the roof. Grotton's head popped down through the ceiling, a snaky grin stretching from ear to ear.
The screams were so loud, Dora nearly drove into a tree

Then something happened in the next two seconds, but neither Lex nor Driggs would be able to recall exactly what. All they knew was that after it was over, their eyes met once again, this time in horror.
“Why did you just kiss my ear?” Lex asked nervously.
Driggs winced. “Because you turned your head.”
“I thought that tree . .  . moved.”
“Oh.”
Another moment of silence.
Driggs bit his lip. “Do you mind if I try again?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
Then something else happened, and this time both Lex and Driggs would remember exactly what it was.

That's okay. If we are attacked by zombies I don't have to run fast. I just have to run faster than you.