Butch tightened his grip on his cell and wished there were an app that let you reach through a phone and bitch slap someone.

Hey, even pencils can get the job done—I’ve heard the moaning from your room to prove it.

I am a rare species, not a stereotype.

I don’t switch much, don’t really want many people to fuck me, because there’s a whole code, unwritten but no less rigid than if it were chiseled in stone, about how Tops Must be, how...