I think the Peace Corps is a fine thing, don't you?" he said.
"Well," I replied, "it's certainly better than War Corps.

But what does he do to qualify as a sonovabitch?” Jenny asked.
“Make me”, I replied.
“Beg pardon?”
“Make me”, I repeated.
Her eyes widened like saucers. “You mean like incest?” she asked.
“Don’t give me your family problems, Jen. I have enough of my own.”
“Like what, Oliver?” she asked, “like just what is it he makes you do?”
“The ‘right things’”, I said.
“What’s wrong with the ‘right things’?” she asked, delighting in the apparent paradox.

What term do you employ when you speak of your progenitor?"
I answered with the term I'd always wanted to employ.
"Sonovabitch."
"To his face?" she asked.
"I never see his face."
"He wears a mask?"
"In a way, yes. Of stone. Of absolute stone.

No love is greater than that of a father for His son.

Min­nie Four-Eyes.

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